Nell. [Turning another page.] And poor Bo-Peep! She’s had that same ribbon on her crook ever since I was a baby!
Harry. [Turning again.] And Jack and Jill have been banging that pail around down that hill for years and years. It must leak like everything.
Nell. I don’t believe Santa Claus ever thought of them. If he did, he would bring them things, I know he would.
Harry. How can he think of them when they don’t hang up any stockings!
Nell. Poor things!
[A voice from outside calls, “Children!”]
Harry and Nell. [Getting up.] There’s Mother! [They drop the book and get as far as the door, when Nell catches Harry’s arm and turns back.]
Nell. Let’s take the Mother Goose people with us. They’ll feel so badly to see Santa Claus stuffing our stockings when he doesn’t give them anything—and most of them are children, too. [She picks up the book, and Harry takes it. Both go out. Silence. Finally Jack and Jill appear in the doorway, looking in. After a careful survey of the room, they tiptoe in cautiously, go to the fireplace and look up it, feel of the stockings, go to the window or windows and peer out. All this time they hold between them an old tin pail.]
Jack. [In a loud whisper.] He hasn’t come yet.
Jill. I suppose he might come ’most any minute.