"We shall have to get help, Alsie--just look at the books to be put in,
and half the presents sent by the children must be wrapped and tied up,
for you know every single thing must have a ribbon attached, by which it
is to be pulled out of the pie."

So Alsie was cautiously sent out to get her cousin Emily, the oldest
granddaughter in the family, a quiet young girl of fourteen, who was
exceedingly fond of reading.

"For goodness sake, let's get the books all in the pie before Emily gets
here, Auntee, for she will want to read a little out of each one to see
what it is like, and we'll get no help from her," exclaimed Alsie.

Aunt Alice laughed, and replied, "Well, we must get through this work
somehow, for Uncle Dick is coming out early this afternoon with the
cedar, holly, and mistletoe, and will help us decorate the library.
Speaking of cedar, let me show you what dear Aunt Cecile has sent in
her Christmas box, besides the gifts."

Taking off the top, Alice lifted out a huge bunch of beautiful galax
leaves and another of the daintiest sprays of evergreen.

"Just a suggestion of the bracing mountain air which you are to enjoy
with me as soon as you are well enough to travel," was the message that
came with it, for Aunt Cecile lived far away in a mountain climate, and
was deeply disappointed at not being able to spend this holiday season
at home, as she had intended. All sorts of curiously shaped packages
were taken out and laid aside for the various members of the household,
but the largest share was to go in the pie. Tiny Bess had made a big
shaving-ball at kindergarten, and this was sent to grandfather with
a Christmas greeting. Bobby's contribution was a highly decorated
three-layer blotter with grandfather's name and address in red ink on
the top layer. It was not a thing of beauty, being the work of his own
clumsy little hands, but he felt sure it would be appreciated, for he
had heard grandfather wish so often that "somebody" wouldn't take away
the blotters from his desk.

"I have such a cute little lemon that I want to put in the pie, Auntee,
and yet I don't know exactly _how_ to work it in. It would be too unkind
to say that anybody would 'hand out a lemon' to dear, sick grandfather,
but it's so tiny and cunning--hardly bigger than a lime. The groceryman
found it in a box of lemons and gave it to me, asking if I needed
anything that size for the pie--you know I told him all about it. He
said there was