Carol got a hammer and opened his big box. It _was_ a magic lantern! He was wild with joy! He beat his fists on the top of the box! He stamped his feet! He came and burrowed his head in mother's shoulder. When Carol burrows his head in my mother's shoulder it means, "Call me anything you want to!" Mother called him anything she wanted to. Right out loud before everybody. "Shining Face!" said my mother. There were lots of other presents besides. My father had made a giant kite for Carol. It looked nine feet tall. My father had made the dearest little wooden work-box for my mother. There _was_ a blue silk waist for Rosalee. My mother had knitted me a doll! Its body was knitted! Its cheeks were knitted! Its nose was knitted! It was wonderful! We ate the peppermint-candy canes. All the pink stripes. All the white stripes. We sang carols. We sang, O, the foxes have holes! And the birds build their nests In the crotch of the sycamore-tree! But the Little Son of God had no place for His head When He cameth to earth for me! Rosalee's voice was like a lark in the sky. Carol's face looked like two larks in the sky. The tame crow stayed in the kitchen. He was afraid of so many strangers. The tame coon wasn't afraid of anything. He crawled in and out of all the wrapping-papers, sniffing and sniffing. It made a lovely crackling sound. Everything smelt like fir balsam. It was more beautiful every minute. Even after every last present was picked from the tree, the tree was still so fat and fluffy with tinsel and glass balls that it didn't look robbed at all. We just sat back and stared at it. Young Derry Willard stared only at the topmost branch. Father looked suddenly at mother. Mother looked suddenly at Rosalee. Rosalee looked suddenly at Carol. Carol looked suddenly at me. I looked suddenly at the tame coon. The tame coon kept right on crackling through the wrapping-papers. Young Derry Willard made a funny little face. There seemed to be dust in his throat. His voice was very dry. He laughed. "My wish," said young Derry Willard, "seems to have been the only one that--didn't bloom." I almost died with shame. Carol almost died with shame. In all that splendiferousness, in all that generosity, poor Derry Willard's gold-budded wish was the only one that hadn't at least bloomed into _something_! Rosalee jumped up very suddenly and ran into the dining-room. She looked as tho she was going to cry. Young Derry Willard followed her. He didn't run. He walked very slowly. He looked a little troubled. Carol and I began at once to fold the wrapping-papers very usefully. Young Derry Willard's father looked at my father. All of a sudden he wasn't laughing at all. Or rubbing his hands. "I'm sorry, Dick," he said. "I've always rather calculated somehow on having my boy's wishes come true." My father spoke a little sharply. "You must have a lot of confidence," he said, "in your boy's wishes!"