Lucy (slipping from Mary's lap and timidly approaching Santa Claus). I love you more than a bushel, dear Santa Claus.
Santa Claus (taking her upon his knee). Bless her heart, of course she does. And she may sit on old Santa's knee and watch him while he fills her own cunning stocking. Here it is, the little one at the end of the row. Now let me see (scratches his head reflectively)—let me see. Ah, yes! here's a tiny gold ring, that shall go into the toe. And here's a little pink tea-set and a lovely, lovely dolly, and a carriage for her to ride in. That must go outside, it is such a wee stocking. I declare, here's another dolly—a jolly sailor-boy, and a dainty box of sweets—all for the sweet baby that loves Santa Claus.
Nan (in an undertone). Now, what do you think, Mr. Tommy?
Tommy (in a loud whisper). Humbug!
Girls. For shame!
Santa Claus (putting Lucy gently back into Mary's arms). Now for the next one! Ah, yes! Here's another little ring, with a blue set, for a girl with blue eyes—
Nan (rapturously). That's me.
Santa Claus. And here goes a silver bracelet and a jolly bottle of mignonette and (searching his pack)—and—let me see—a copy of Old-fashioned Girl—
Nan. Just what I was wishing for!
Santa Claus. And a box of sweets—it won't do to forget that—and a funny puzzle for a clever little head to solve, and a mysterious package—she'll find what's in it in the morning. (Chuckles to himself)