3. THE CHRISTMAS GIFT
Once in the sunny land of France there was a little girl named Piccola, who lived all alone with her mother. They were very poor, and little Piccola had no dolls or toys, and she was often hungry and cold. One day when her mother was ill, Piccola worked hard all day trying to sell the stockings which she knit, while her own little bare feet were blue with cold. As Christmas drew near she said to her mother: “I wonder what Saint Nicholas will bring me this year? I have no stocking to hang in the fireplace, but I shall put my wooden shoe on the hearth for him. He will not forget me, I am sure.” “Do not think of it this year, my dear child,” replied her mother; “we should be glad if we have bread enough to eat.” But Piccola could not believe she would be forgotten. On Christmas Eve she put her little wooden shoe on the hearth before the fire and went to sleep to dream of good Saint Nicholas. The poor mother looked at the shoe and thought how disappointed the little girl would be to find it empty in the morning, and sighed to think she had nothing to put in it. When the morning dawned Piccola awoke and ran to her shoe, and there in it lay something with bright eyes looking up at her. A little swallow, cold and hungry, had flown into the chimney and down to the room and had crept into the shoe for warmth. Piccola danced for joy, and clasped the shivering swallow to her breast. “Look! Look!” she said to her mother. “A Christmas gift, a gift from the good Saint Nicholas!” and she danced again in her little bare feet. Then she fed and warmed the little bird, and cared for it tenderly all winter long. In the spring she opened the window for it to fly away, but it lived in the woods near-by, and sang often at her door.—Adapted from “Child Life in Many Lands,” Blaisdell.
4. THE GOLDEN COBWEBS
(A story to be told by the Christmas tree)
The night before Christmas the tree was all trimmed with pop-corn, and silver nuts, and golden apples, and oranges, and walnuts, and dolls, and bonbons, and a hundred colored candles. It was placed safely out of sight in a locked room where the children could not see it until the proper time. But ever so many other little house-folks had seen it. Pussy saw it with her great gray eyes. The house-dog saw it with his steady brown eyes. The yellow canary saw it with his wise bright eyes. Even the little mice had a good peek at it. But there was some one who had not seen the Christmas tree. It was the little gray spider! The housemother had swept and dusted and scrubbed to make everything clean for the Christ-Child’s birthday and every spider had scampered away. At last the little gray spider went to the Christ-Child, and said: “All the others see the Christmas tree, dear Christ-Child, but we are cleaned up! We like to see beautiful things too!” The Christ-Child was sorry for the little spider, and he said, “You shall see it.” So on Christmas morning before any of the children were awake, the spiders came creeping, creeping, creeping down the attic stairs, along the hall, under the door, and into the room where the Christmas tree was standing. Oh! it was beautiful to their little eyes as they looked upon it as much as they liked. Then father spider, mother spider, and all the spider family went creeping, creeping, creeping up the tree and all over its branches, and in great joy hurried back to their home in the attic. The Christ-Child looked down to see if the tree was all ready for the children, and oh!—it was all covered over with cobwebs! “How badly the housewife will feel at seeing those cobwebs!” said the Christ-Child. “I will change them into golden cobwebs for the beauty of the Christmas tree.” So that is how the Christmas tree came to have golden cobwebs.—Adapted from “How to Tell Stories to Children,” by Sara Cone Bryant.
5. THE LEGEND OF THE CHRISTMAS TREE
One cold, wintry night, two little children were sitting by the fire when suddenly they heard a timid knock at the door. One of the children ran quickly and opened it. Outside in the cold and darkness, they saw a poor little boy, shivering, without shoes on his feet, and dressed in thin, ragged clothing. “Please, may I come in and warm myself?” he said. “Yes, indeed,” cried the children, “you shall have our place by the fire. Come in!” The little stranger boy came in and the kind children shared their supper with him and gave him their bed, while they slept on the hard bench. In the night they were awakened by strains of sweetest music, and, looking out of the window, they saw a band of children in shining garments coming near the house. They were playing on golden harps, and the air was full of Christmas music. Then lo! the Stranger-child, no longer in rags, but clad in silvery light, stood before them, and in his soft voice said: “I was cold and you let me in. I was hungry and you fed me. I was very tired and you gave me your nice soft bed. I am the Christ-Child who comes to bring peace and happiness to all kind children. As you have been good to me, may this tree every year bring rich gifts to you.” He broke a branch from the fir tree that grew near the door and planted it in the ground, and disappeared. But the branch grew into the Tree of Love, and every year it bore golden fruit for the kind children.—Adapted from Lucy Wheelock in Bailey-Lewis, “For the Children’s Hour.”