Please, Mr. Claus, I want a toy!"

Her voice was so pleading that Claus jumped up at once and stood beside
her. But he was puzzled how to answer her request.

"You are a rich lord's daughter," said he, "and have all that you
desire."

"Except toys," added Bessie. "There are no toys in all the world but
yours."

"And I make them for the poor children, who have nothing else to amuse
them," continued Claus.

"Do poor children love to play with toys more than rich ones?" asked
Bessie.

"I suppose not," said Claus, thoughtfully.

"Am I to blame because my father is a lord? Must I be denied the
pretty toys I long for because other children are poorer than I?" she
inquired earnestly.

"I'm afraid you must, dear," he answered; "for the poor have nothing
else with which to amuse themselves. You have your pony to ride, your
servants to wait on you, and every comfort that money can procure."

"But I want toys!" cried Bessie, wiping away the tears that forced
themselves into her eyes. "If I can not have them, I shall be very
unhappy."

Claus was troubled, for her grief recalled to him the thought that his
desire was to make all children happy, without regard to their
condition in life. Yet, while so many poor children were clamoring for
his toys he could not bear to give one to them to Bessie Blithesome,
who had so much already to make her happy.

"Listen, my child," said he, gently; "all the toys I am now making are
promised to others. But the next shall be yours, since your heart so
longs for it. Come to me again in two days and it shall be ready for
you."

Bessie gave a cry of delight, and leaning over her pony's neck she
kissed Claus prettily upon his forehead. Then, calling to her
men-at-arms, she rode gaily away, leaving Claus to resume his work.

"If I am to supply the rich children as well as the poor ones," he
thought, "I shall not have a spare moment in the whole year! But is it
right I should give to the rich? Surely I must go to Necile and talk
with her about this matter."

So when he had finished the toy deer, which was very like a deer he had
known in the Forest glades, he walked into Burzee and made his way to
the bower of the beautiful Nymph Necile, who had been his foster mother.

She greeted him tenderly and lovingly, listening with interest to his
story of the visit of Bessie Blithesome.

"And now tell me," said he, "shall I give toys to rich children?"

"We of the Forest know no