“‘’Pears like dey has a right to Chris’mus same as de folks. Dey minds dere bus’ness, an’ dey works an’ dey plays de same, an’ dey had dere share in dat fust Chris’mus when de li’l’ Lordie was born—same as de folks. Didn’t de donkey carry Mary to Beflehem? Didn’t de mully-cow gib her manger for de li’l’ Lordie to sleep in? Didn’t de cock crow de news to St. Stephen? An’ how do yer reckon de Wise Men could ha’ toted dere presents ’cross de sand if it hadn’t been fer dem cam’ls?’
“Yas, sir, honey! Ole Santy was right. De critters had as much right to Chris’mus as de folks, an’ ole Santy poun’ his knee an’ swear he gwine to gib dem one.
“So de ole saint he begun fer to study an’ to study what he gwine to do fer de critters. He can’t come down dere chimbleys ’ca’se dey ’ain’t got no houses; an’ he can’t fill dere stockin’s ’ca’se dey doan’t wear none; an’ he can’t fotch dem barley candy ’ca’se dey doan’t eat it. Wall, he set dere an’ study twell his brain ’mos’ bustin’ an’ bime-by he fotch up wif an idea.
“‘I know what I’ll do,’ says ole Santy, says he. ‘Dem critters is sure to be like folks; dere’s certain to be a lot dat ain’t satisfied wif dere pussonalities. Now I’m gwine to trim up a Chris’mus tree wif a lot o’ odd tails, an’ ears, an’ wings, an’ legs, an’ sech-like, an’ any o’ de critters dat ain’t satisfied can choose jes’ what dey want. Dat’s what I’m gwine to do,’ says ole Santy.
“Wall, thinkin’ was doin’. An’ by de time Chris’mus come along dat ole saint had de mos’ cur’os, hetromologous collection o’ an’mal parts you ever done hear tell about. He sent word by de birds all over de world fer de critters to come to a Chris’mus celebration at de fust fir-tree dis side o’ de North Pole. ’Fo’ dey git dere ole Santy had it all trimmed up wif his presents; an’ when de critters trope up dey sure was bustin’ wif s’prize when dey see all de tails an’ wings an’ legs hangin’ dere.
“An’ de an’mals! Bless your heart, honey, you never see such a camp-meetin’! Dere was elephants an’ tigers an’ lions an’ yippopot’musses an’ rabbits an’ ’possums an’ mouses—every livin’ kind. An’ all de birds dat clip de air an’ all de fish dat swum de sea. Dey all come lopin’ up wif dere purtiest manners on; an’ dey scrape an’ dey bow an’ ax after ole Missus Santy an’ de chilluns. When dey’d axed an’ scraped all ’round, ole Santy says, says he:
“‘Now any o’ you-all critters dat want fer to change yer pussonalities can jes’ step right up an’ choose somethin’ new,’ says he.
“Everybody was mighty bashful at fust. Dey all tried to hide behind dere neighbors an’ look like dey was puffectly satisfied wif dere looks an’ dere habits. But bime-by a squeaky li’l’ voice calls out:
“‘If you please, Ole Man Santy, I’d like a pair o’ dem li’l’ brown wings, an’ thank you mighty much.’
“Santy look down an’ see it was one o’ de li’l’ mouses speakin’; an’ he reach up an’ take from de tree a cunnin’ pair o’ li’l’ wings an’ fastened dem on tight. An’ de next minute dat sassy li’l’ mouse went flippin’ an’ floppin’ into de air same as if he’d been born wif wings. An’ ever since, honey, he an’ his chilluns have been flyin’ ’stead o’ creepin’.”