Pretty soon Hickety-Stickety came in. Hickety-Stickety was the postmaster of the Claus establishment. He had a letter in his hand and he looked worried.
“Santy Claus sent ye this here,” he began. “It’s from a boy as goes to Peppermint Place school. He wants a queer thing, he do. He wants a book as hasn’t got no girls in it.”
Benjamin Bookfellow reached out for the letter. “Pyrits,” it said, “soldieres, draggens”; all that was easy. “no, girls, in it Santa Claus not; one.” A book without girls in it? Benjamin Bookfellow had never heard of such a thing. Girls were absolutely necessary to books. Dragons had to eat them, knights had to rescue them; how could you possibly have a book without a girl in it?
And yet maybe the Plot Tree would have that kind of story on it after all. Benjamin reached up and picked off a luscious fruit. He opened it carefully and out fell the plot, a little round ball with words written all over it. He read it hastily. No, here was a girl right off, a girl and a gnome and a prince, quite obviously a fairy story.
He pulled down another plot, then more plots and more plots and more plots, cut them open and took out the round ball and still not a single story without a girl in it, just as he had feared. Poor Benjamin Bookfellow! His face was as long as your arm.
At supper that night in Santa Claus’ dining room, when Benjamin and Hickety-Stickety and the Twelve Toymakers were all at table with the Clauses, Santa Claus said first thing: “Well, Bookfellow, and did you find a story without a girl in it?”
“I didn’t, sir,” replied Benjamin sadly. “I took off every single plot from the tree, and they all had girls in them.”
Santa Claus’ rosy chops fell. “Have you called in the Authors, Bookfellow?” Santa Claus wanted to know.
Benjamin Bookfellow knew what was coming. The Authors sometimes wrote books to help Benjamin when he got crowded with work.
“No, sir, I haven’t yet.”