Mary (very reproachfully). Oh, Tommy!
Nan. Now, Tommy, you just stop.
Tommy. But there isn't, and you know it. It's just our fath—
Nan. Of course there's a Santa Claus.
Lucy (sleepily). Dear old Santa Claus! He'll come down the chimney pretty soon, won't he, Mary?
Mary. Yes, darling. You'll hear the tinkle of his jolly little sleigh-bells, and then up he'll fly with his eight tiny reindeer.
[Sings.]
| "To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, |
| Now dash away, dash away, dash away all. |
| And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof |
| The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. |
| As I drew in my head and was turning around |
| Down the chimney old Santa Claus came with a bound!" |
Nan (triumphantly). There, Mr. Tommy, do you hear what it says?
Tommy. I don't care what it says. That's just a baby story. Santa Claus! Shoot Santa Claus!