But, somehow, as he looked about the little room, bare of Christmas on Christmas Eve, Merrythought didn’t so dislike the idea of toys. Indeed, it seemed all wrong and strange not to see a shining Tree and stockings, filled to overflowing, in a row, and little heads, brown and black and yellow, snuggled down into a pillow and happy with Christmas dreams. This was a strange Christmas Eve, and perhaps Merrythought’s face showed what he felt, for Belinda began at once to tell him how it had come about. ‘You see, Father and Mother went to town almost a week ago. Father went to help build a house. He is a carpenter, you know. And Mother went to do sewing for the minister’s wife,’ said Belinda, standing straight and tall. ‘And they left me to take care of the children. They meant to be home for Christmas. They were coming to-night. Mother said she would bring each of the children an orange, if she could. But the snow is very deep, and they didn’t come. So I made the pies for the children. They have apples and molasses and sugar in them. And the children will like them just as well as toys.’ The children did like them. They were hopping round the table and calling out, ‘Smell mine! Smell mine!’ But Merrythought did not like it at all. He thought of the many toys he had made that year in Santa Claus’s Snow Palace on the very tip-top of the North Pole, he thought of Santa Claus’s sleigh still well filled, he thought of the stockings and Christmas Trees that other children would enjoy on Christmas Day. And Merrythought wished with all his generous little Brownie heart that he could give a beautiful toy to each of these seven children who were made so happy on Christmas by a little saucer pie. ‘Oh!’ groaned Merrythought to himself. ‘And I said there were too many toys. I said children thought of nothing but toys and how many they would get. I said I was tired of toys. And these children haven’t a single one, not a single little toy. How could I have said such a thing! Oh! Oh! Oh!’ But here Merrythought felt some one pulling at his hand. It was Ann Mary, holding out her pie to Merrythought. ‘Here!’ said Ann Mary, her pigtails standing straight out with excitement. ‘Take it. It’s yours. I want to give it to you for Christmas because you haven’t any pie or anything. The other children will give me bites of theirs. They said they would. Take it. It’s for you.’ Merrythought took the pie. He almost wanted to cry, but he took a bite of crust instead. ‘Delicious!’ said Merrythought. ‘It is the best pie I ever ate.’ But at that moment Merrythought’s face grew very bright. ‘Just a minute,’ said he. ‘Don’t stir.’ He opened the door and looked out. He listened and listened again. Just as he thought. He did hear Santa Claus’s sleigh-bells, faint and clear. ‘Wait! Wait for me!’ he shouted out into the snow. And there came an answering tinkle that told him Santa Claus had heard. Then he turned back into the room.