ss, a long,
bright-colored woolen skirt and a white waist. Round her neck was a
string of beads, and on her feet were little wooden shoes. It would
seem very strange to us--would it not?--to wear wooden shoes; but
Piccola and her mother had never worn anything else, and never had any
money to buy stockings. Piccola almost always ran about barefooted,
like the kittens and the chickens and the little ducks. What a good
time they had that day, and how glad Piccola's mother was that her
little girl could have such a pleasant, safe place to play in, while
she was away at work!

By and by December came, and the little Americans began to talk about
Christmas. One day, when Piccola's curly head and bright eyes came
peeping through the hole in the wall, and they ran to her and helped
her in; and as they did so, they all asked her at once what she
thought she would have for a Christmas present. "A Christmas present!"
said Piccola. "Why, what is that?"

All the children looked surprised at this, and Rose said, rather
gravely, "Dear Piccola, don't you know what Christmas is?"

Oh, yes, Piccola knew it was the happy day when the baby Christ was
born, and she had been to church on that day and heard the beautiful
singing, and had seen the picture of the Babe lying in the manger,
with cattle and sheep sleeping round about. Oh, yes, she knew all that
very well, but what was a Christmas present?

Then the children began to laugh and to answer her all together. There
was such a clatter of tongues that she could hear only a few of the
words now and then, such as "chimney," "Santa Claus," "stockings,"
"reindeer," "Christmas Eve," "candies and toys." Piccola put her hands
over her ears and said, "Oh, I can't understand one word. You tell me,
Rose." Then Rose told her all about jolly Santa Claus, with his red
cheeks and white beard and fur coat, and about his reindeer and sleigh
full of toys. "Every Christmas Eve," said Rose, "he comes down the
chimney, and fills the stockings of all the good children; so,
Piccola, you hang up your stocking, and who knows what a beautiful
Christmas present you will find when morning comes!" Of course Piccola
thought this was a delightful plan, and was very pleased to hear about
it. Then all the children told her of every Christmas Eve they could
remember, and of the presents they had had; so that she went home
thinking of nothing but dolls and hoops and balls and ribbons and
marbles and wagons and kites