He brought more clay from the brook, and remembering that Bessie had called the dolly her baby he resolved to form this one into a baby's image. That was no difficult task to the clever workman, and soon the baby dolly was lying on the board and placed in the sun to dry. Then, with the clay that was left, he began to make an image of Bessie Blithesome herself. This was not so easy, for he found he could not make the silken robe of the lord's daughter out of the common clay. So he called the Fairies to his aid, and asked them to bring him colored silks with which to make a real dress for the clay image. The Fairies set off at once on their errand, and before nightfall they returned with a generous supply of silks and laces and golden threads. Claus now became impatient to complete his new dolly, and instead of waiting for the next day's sun he placed the clay image upon his hearth and covered it over with glowing coals. By morning, when he drew the dolly from the ashes, it had baked as hard as if it had lain a full day in the hot sun. Now our Claus became a dressmaker as well as a toymaker. He cut the lavender silk, and neaty sewed it into a beautiful gown that just fitted the new dolly. And he put a lace collar around its neck and pink silk shoes on its feet. The natural color of baked clay is a light gray, but Claus painted the face to resemble the color of flesh, and he gave the dolly Bessie's brown eyes and golden hair and rosy cheeks. It was really a beautiful thing to look upon, and sure to bring joy to some childish heart. While Claus was admiring it he heard a knock at his door, and little Mayrie entered. Her face was sad and her eyes red with continued weeping. "Why, what has grieved you, my dear?" asked Claus, taking the child in his arms. "I've--I've--bwoke my tat!" sobbed Mayrie. "How?" he inquired, his eyes twinkling. "I--I dwopped him, an' bwoke off him's tail; an'--an'--then I dwopped him an' bwoke off him's ear! An'--an' now him's all spoilt!" Claus laughed. "Never mind, Mayrie dear," he said. "How would you like this new dolly, instead of a cat?" Mayrie looked at the silk-robed dolly and her eyes grew big with astonishment. "Oh, Tlaus!" she cried, clapping her small hands together with rapture; "tan I have 'at boo'ful lady?" "Do you like it?" he asked. "I love it!" said she. "It's better 'an tats!" "Then take it, dear, and be careful not to break it." Mayrie took the dolly with a joy that was almost reverent, and her face dimpled with smiles as she started along the path toward home. 6. The Wickedness of the Awgwas I must now tell you something about the Awgwas, that terrible race of creatures which caused our good Claus so much trouble and nearly succeeded in robbing the children of the world of their earliest and best friend.