“Yes.”
“Are you going to have a tree?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to see mine?”
“It would be wonderful.”
So he led her down a long passage to a great room, and there was a tree which touched the ceiling, and on the very top branches and on all the other branches were myriads of little lights which shone like stars, and there were gold balls and silver ones, and gold bells and silver ones, and red and blue and green balls, and red and blue and green bells—and under the tree and on it were toys for boys and toys for girls, and one of the toys was a doll in a pink dress!
At that the heart of the Small Girl’s mother tightened, and she was glad she wasn’t a thief, or she would have snatched at the pink doll when the boy wasn’t looking, and hidden it under her cape, and run away with it!
The Boy-Next-Door was saying: “It’s the finest tree anybody has around here. But Dad and Mother don’t know that I’ve seen it.”
“Oh, don’t they?” said the Small Girl’s mother.
“No,” said the Boy-Next-Door, with a wide grin, “and it’s fun to fool ’em.”