Could it be true that this lovely wax doll was her very own? Lucy's father had said so, but she was afraid she might rub her eyes and wake, and find it all a dream.
As for Beppo, he was equally delighted to find himself the owner of a jack-knife with four blades, a fine ball with which he could teach the American children his favourite game of pallone, in which he was very skilful.
There were neither skates nor sleds. They would be of no use in Italy, the land of sunny skies, where snow is unknown except on the high mountain-tops.
The evening was a merry one, but it came to an end at last.
"To bed, to bed, children," Lucy's mother cried at length. "To-morrow there will be more sights, and you must not get sick over your good time."
Christmas morning dawned bright and clear.
The children waked early and did not seem any the worse for sitting up so late the night before. Soon after breakfast, an open carriage appeared at the door of the palace and they all rode off to visit the greatest church in the world.
"At last we are on our way to Saint Peter's," said Arthur. "Tessa, you may well be proud when you think of the people who come here from all parts of the world to see the grand buildings."
Tessa was proud. This was her Italy, her Rome, her Saint Peter's. She, a poor little peasant maiden, felt richer at this moment than the owner of a million dollars.
The party had to ride over a bridge before they could reach the church.