es as if it were iron, and only dented them, receiving no impression
itself.

Meanwhile, the Costumer sat up in the tree, eating cherries and throwing
the stones down. Finally he stood up on a stout branch, and, looking
down, addressed the people.

"It's of no use, your trying to accomplish anything in this way," said
he; "you'd better parley. I'm willing to come to terms with you, and
make everything right on two conditions."

The people grew quiet then, and the Mayor stepped forward as spokesman,
"Name your two conditions," said he rather testily. "You own, tacitly,
that you are the cause of all this trouble."

"Well" said the Costumer, reaching out for a handful of cherries, "this
Christmas Masquerade of yours was a beautiful idea; but you wouldn't do
it every year, and your successors might not do it at all. I want those
poor children to have a Christmas every year. My first condition is that
every poor child in the city hangs its stocking for gifts in the
City Hall on every Christmas Eve, and gets it filled, too. I want the
resolution filed and put away in the city archives."

"We agree to the first condition!" cried the people with one voice,
without waiting for the Mayor and Aldermen.

"The second condition," said the Costumer, "is that this good young
Cherry-man here has the Mayor's daughter, Violetta, for his wife. He has
been kind to me, letting me live in his cherry-tree and eat his cherries
and I want to reward him."

"We consent," cried all the people; but the Mayor, though he was so
generous, was a proud man. "I will not consent to the second condition,"
he cried angrily.

"Very well," replied the Costumer, picking some more cherries, "then
your youngest daughter tends geese the rest of her life, that's all."

The Mayor was in great distress; but the thought of his youngest
daughter being a goose-girl all her life was too much for him. He gave
in at last.

"Now go home and take the costumes off your children," said the
Costumer, "and leave me in peace to eat cherries."

Then the people hastened back to the city, and found, to their great
delight, that the costumes would come off. The pins stayed out, the
buttons stayed unbuttoned, and the strings stayed untied. The children
were dressed in their own proper clothes and were their own proper
selves once more. The shepherdesses and the chimney-sweeps came
home, and were washed and dressed in silks and velvets, and went to
embroidering and playin