“You will be very happy,” said Santa Claus. “You will grow up to be a man, and all your life you will be happier for having visited Santa Claus’ land on the Wreath.” Snythergen made the choice that Santa Claus knew he would, the one that any boy would have made. There was a great deal of bustle in all of the kitchens and bakeries on the Wreath, as they made toy foods for Snythergen. There were wonderful loaves of bread shaped like the little tree doctor, which Snythergen wanted to devour by the handful, but was permitted to eat only one at each meal. There were cookies molded in the form of the woodchoppers’ axes, cakes and pies resembling the nest that had once tickled his long green boughs. [Illustration: And squeezed him almost as tightly as the farmer’s wife had done] Little by little Snythergen un-grew until he became the size of a boy. At last the day of his departure arrived and his friends were gathered before Santa Claus’ door to bid him farewell. The doorkeeper and the housekeeper said good-by with feeling. When he came to Blasterjinx the big fellow bent over, placed one hand on the ground, palm up for Snythergen to stand on, then lifted him up to say good-by. Snythergen felt a keen pang of regret when the sight of his friend made him realize that his own great size was gone. But this feeling was soon forgotten in an affectionate farewell to the faithful chums, with whom he had shared so many joys and dangers. He took Squeaky into his arms and squeezed him almost as tightly as the farmer’s wife had done. Sancho Wing perched on his shoulder and tried to say good-by in as loud a voice as when first he had spoken to Snythergen, but somehow the words caught in his throat. As Snythergen said his last farewell to all, even the bear’s eyes filled with tears (he had just had his olives and custard pie). “We shall expect you to visit us very soon,” said Santa Claus as they parted. How they all waved and cheered as Snythergen rose in his boy’s airplane and began the journey home! Turning his head he watched them until they dwindled to mere specks and disappeared. [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XVI HOME As Snythergen’s friends passed from view a new happiness came into his heart, overcoming the sorrows of parting—for at last he was going home. All day he had been soaring above the clouds, and now he was speeding through the air in the swift descent. It was night and the Wreath was but a star. Soon he was sailing above the forest, over the tops of his old comrades the trees. “They would never recognize me now,” he thought; then suddenly he wondered: “Will _they_ recognize me!” He was almost home. Choosing a clear space in a pasture, he made a landing, and hurried towards the house. It was a warm, still night in mid-summer. Through the open door he saw his mother and father sitting by the lamp. “I wonder where our dear boy is to-night?” Snythergen heard his mother ask. “Mother! Mother!” he cried.