‘I will know their names soon,’ said he, smiling to see the seven children sniff and clap their hands and jump about. ‘That oldest girl is named Belinda, for the other children are always calling out, “Oh, Belinda, wrap me up! Oh, Belinda, do sniff over here!” She seems to take care of them. I wonder where their own mother is.’ Merrythought rubbed the steam of his breath off the window and peered in again. ‘The littlest boy with freckles is called Tom, and the one with curls and her thumb in her mouth is Matilda, and the baby is Polly, I know. I think those two boys holding hands and giggling are called Danny and Bill. And the one with the pigtails is named Ann Mary, for her two grandmothers, I suppose. I wonder when they will open that oven door and take out whatever is inside.’ The children were wondering this, too. ‘Oh, Belinda, do look in the oven! Oh, Belinda, do see if they are not done! Oh, Belinda, we can’t wait a minute longer!’ [Illustration] Belinda laughed at them and shook her head. Stand back,’ said she, ‘and I will look in the oven.’ But they didn’t stand back, not they. They crowded round and peeked and sniffed as Belinda gently opened the oven door. And when she said, ‘They are done!’ they clapped their hands and shouted and pranced about the room. ‘What can it be?’ asked Merrythought, clinging to the window-sill, his eyes as round as plates. ‘It must be something very rich and fine.’ But what do you think Belinda took from the oven and carefully set upon the table in a row? Seven little pies! Seven little saucer pies, in very small saucers, too! Merrythought almost fell off the window-sill, he was so surprised. And the very next moment he did something much worse. He sneezed! A loud crashing sneeze that jerked his head forward and struck it against the window-pane with a thump! Well, of course the children rushed over to the window to see what was there. And when they saw a little fellow, only Brownie size, they opened the door, and Belinda called him to come in. So in Merrythought went, and the room was so sweet with the odor of the seven little pies that Merrythought couldn’t help sniffing and staring at them, too. ‘They are our pies,’ spoke up little Tom proudly. ‘One apiece,’ announced Danny and Bill in a breath. ‘Belinda made them,’ said Ann Mary, twitching her pigtails into place. ‘For our Christmas,’ added Matilda, taking her thumb out of her mouth to say so. Baby Polly didn’t speak a word. Perhaps she couldn’t. I am not sure about that. But she toddled straight over to Merrythought and slipped her hand in his. She knew at a glance that here was a friend. And she was right. For unless he were a good friend to little children Merrythought could never have made such beautiful playthings for them, in spite of the fact that this Christmas he had grown so tired of toys.