“Where are you hiding!” cried Santa Claus, and he looked under the bed, behind the chairs, and in the closets. Sancho Wing feared every moment he would be discovered, and tried to escape by flying out of the window. But his head had become caught in the long whiskers and he could go only the length of the beard in any direction. As he flew vigorously about the room trying to free his head Santa’s beard floated in the air like a living thing. Too surprised to move or speak, Santa Claus could only gaze dumbly at his beard making serpentine movements in the air, or winding about his body as if to hide behind his back. “What in the name of Popcorn is the matter with my beard!” cried Santa Claus, finding his voice at last. Sancho Wing concluded that it was wiser to stop flying and let the beard settle back to its accustomed place, lest Santa Claus discover him. He was too hopelessly caught to escape by flying; but he was so well concealed by the whiskers that Santa Claus still failed to see him. “Well, I give up!” said Santa Claus at last. “Wherever you are, you are well hidden. Did I understand you to say that you and your two friends had come to visit me? Where are the others?—since I can’t find you. Are they hiding too?” “They are waiting at the door.” [Illustration: “Squeaky, who is a voice with a pig’s body”] “I invite you all to dinner,” said Santa Claus. “‘Three Wise Men’ I think you call yourselves?” “Four, including our host,” said Sancho politely. “Thanks!” said Santa Claus. Sancho’s conscience was troubling him for he had hesitated to explain that they were not just ordinary men, lest Santa Claus might not want to see them. “When I said we were men,” began Sancho, “I used the word ‘men’ in a broad sense, to include birds, animals and trees.” Santa Claus yawned and stretched his arms. He liked a chat after his nap. “I am glad to see you are democratic,” said he. “I think it is too bad that birds, animals and trees are so often left out. If they could talk they might say some unkind things of us.” “No, indeed, we won’t, Santa Claus,” assured Sancho eagerly. “We? Who are ‘we’?” asked Santa Claus. “One of us is a boy-tree. He is a boy by birth, but a tree by profession.” “Go on,” demanded Santa Claus. “Then there is Squeaky, who is a voice with a pig’s body; and as for me, well, you know me.” “I know your voice, but the rest of you?” asked Santa Claus. “Is a goldfinch,” answered Sancho. “Three wise men indeed,” muttered Santa Claus. “How interesting it will be to have dinner with a pig, a tree, and a goldfinch! But what can we have to eat that three such different guests will enjoy?” “Oh, that’s easy,” said Sancho Wing. “You can give the others birdseed porridge.” “And you?” asked Santa Claus, with a twinkle in his eye. “Oh, I’ll eat some too,” said Sancho, with seeming indifference, though it made his bill water to think of his favorite dish.