I picked up a popcorn ball, thinking maybe some of the sweet goo would stick to my fingers. But the schoolteacher saw me, so I had to drop it back into Aunt Vic's box real quick. I licked my fingers, but not much sweet stuff was on them. "Bandershanks," Aunt Vic said, "com'ere a minute." Aunt Vic sat down on the organ stool and swung herself around toward me. "Now, Bandershanks." Aunt Vic put her arm around me and drew me up close. "Tonight you're gonna be the little walking Christmas tree and say a recitation too!" "Me?" "Sure. All the older children will be in the part Mister Shepherd's putting on. So we saved the walking tree bit just for you." "What does a walking tree do?" 'Ill tell you that in a minute. Your mama is gonna get you here early tonight, and you bring one of your papa's old, worn-out felt hats with you. Before the program starts, we'll wrap your tree costume around you. Then, when the time comes—I'll tell you when—you'll step out front and recite your piece." "My piece?" "Right! A little recitation all your own! Now don't mention what you're gonna say to anybody. It'll be a big surprise!" She leaned closer and whispered a short rhyme to me. "Can you remember that?" "I don't know." "Oh, sure you can. Whisper it back to me." I said it for her. "Good! Now, tonight after you say it, I want you to walk through the church with your papa's hat, and everybody will put in money. That will be for poor people. Then you come back to me, and I'll get some of the little presents off the tree and pin them on you. Then you'll walk up and down the aisle so that folks can take off their gifts. What do you think of that? Can you do it?" "Oh, yes Ma'am! I can do it!" On our way home I thought I'd absolutely pop wide open with excitement. But I never did. At supper I gulped down a whole big glass of buttermilk with corn bread crumbled in it, and not a drop leaked out of me! Even after we got our stockings hung up and our Sunday clothes on, I was still in good shape. I kept whispering my Aunt Vic piece over and over to myself. But as we were going back toward the church, Mierd and Wiley talked so long about how many nuts and apples and oranges we might get in our stockings that I forgot every word Aunt Vic wanted me to recite! "Don't cry, for goodness sakes!" Mama told me. "Aunt Vic will tell you again what to say." It was dusk before we got within sight of the grist mill and cotton gin. Mierd and Wiley were quiet. Mama wasn't saying much either. When we were about halfway between the gin and Papa's new store, three men on horseback streaked past our wagon, their horses running neck and neck! "I wonder," Mama said, "who's in such an all-fired hurry to get to the Christmas entertainment." "That's just them Bailey boys," Wiley said. "How do you know it's them dumb clucks?" Mierd asked. "I'd know their bays day or night. They're the prettiest horses in Drake Eye Springs, and them boys are the meanest."