The Little Robber Girl
The Boy Who Cried Wolf
AMERICAN INDIAN STORIES
Animal Sketches And Stories
Blondine Bonne Biche and Beau Minon
BRER RABBIT and HIS NEIGHBORS
CHINESE MOTHER-GOOSE RHYMES
FABLES FOR CHILDREN
FABLES FROM INDIA
FATHER PLAYS AND MOTHER PLAYS
FIRST STORIES FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
For Classes Ii. And Iii.
For Classes Iv. And V.
For Kindergarten And Class I.
FUN FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
Good Little Henry
JAPANESE AND OTHER ORIENTAL TALES]
Jean De La Fontaine
King Alexander's Adventures
KINGS AND WARRIORS
LAND AND WATER FAIRIES
Lessons From Nature
LITTLE STORIES that GROW BIG
MODERN FAIRY TALES
MOTHER GOOSE CONTINUED
MOTHER GOOSE JINGLES
MOTHER GOOSE SONGS AND STORIES
Myths And Legends
NEGLECT THE FIRE
ON POPULAR EDUCATION
PLACES AND FAMILIES
Poems Of Nature
RESURRECTION DAY (EASTER)
RHYMES CONCERNING "MOTHER"
RIDING SONGS for FATHER'S KNEE
ROMANCES OF THE MIDDLE AGES
SAINT VALENTINE'S DAY
Selections From The Bible
SLEEPY-TIME SONGS AND STORIES
Some Children's Poets
Songs Of Life
STORIES BY FAVORITE AMERICAN WRITERS
STORIES FOR CHILDREN
STORIES for LITTLE BOYS
STORIES FROM BOTANY
STORIES FROM GREAT BRITAIN
STORIES FROM IRELAND
STORIES FROM PHYSICS
STORIES FROM SCANDINAVIA
STORIES FROM ZOOLOGY
STORIES _for_ LITTLE GIRLS
THE DAYS OF THE WEEK
The King Of The Golden River; Or, The Black Brothers
The Little Grey Mouse
THE OLD FAIRY TALES
The Princess Rosette
THE THREE HERMITS
THE TWO OLD MEN
UNCLES AND AUNTS AND OTHER RELATIVES
VERSES ABOUT FAIRIES
WHAT MEN LIVE BY
WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO
After Celia Thaxter
from Good Stories For Great Holidays
- CHRISTMAS DAY
In the sunny land of France there lived many years ago a sweet little
maid named Piccola.
Her father had died when she was a baby, and her mother was very poor
and had to work hard all day in the fields for a few sous.
Little Piccola had no dolls and toys, and she was often hungry and cold,
but she was never sad nor lonely.
What if there were no children for her to play with! What if she did not
have fine clothes and beautiful toys! In summer there were always the
birds in the forest, and the flowers in the fields and meadows,--the
birds sang so sweetly, and the flowers were so bright and pretty!
In the winter when the ground was covered with snow, Piccola helped her
mother, and knit long stockings of blue wool.
The snow-birds had to be fed with crumbs, if she could find any, and
then, there was Christmas Day.
But one year her mother was ill and could not earn any money. Piccola
worked hard all the day long, and sold the stockings which she knit,
even when her own little bare feet were blue with the cold.
As Christmas Day drew near she said to her mother, "I wonder what the
good Saint Nicholas will bring me this year. I cannot hang my stocking
in the fireplace, but I shall put my wooden shoe on the hearth for him.
He will not forget me, I am sure."
"Do not think of it this year, my dear child," replied her mother. "We
must be glad if we have bread enough to eat."
But Piccola could not believe that the good saint would forget her. On
Christmas Eve she put her little wooden patten on the hearth before the
fire, and went to sleep to dream of Saint Nicholas.
As the poor mother looked at the little shoe, she thought how unhappy
her dear child would be to find it empty in the morning, and wished that
she had something, even if it were only a tiny cake, for a Christmas
gift. There was nothing in the house but a few sous, and these must be
saved to buy bread.
When the morning dawned Piccola awoke and ran to her shoe.
Saint Nicholas had come in the night. He had not forgotten the little
child who had thought of him with such faith.
See what he had brought her. It lay in the wooden patten, looking up at
her with its two bright eyes, and chirping contentedly as she stroked
its soft feathers.
A little swallow, cold and hungry, had flown into the chimney and down
to the room, and had crept into the shoe for warmth.
Piccola danced for joy, and clasped the shivering swallow to her breast.
She ran to her mother's bedside. "Look, look!" she cried. "A Christmas
gift, a gift from the good Saint Nicholas!" And she danced again in her
little bare feet.
Then she fed and warmed the bird, and cared for it tenderly all winter
long; teaching it to take crumbs from her hand and her lips, and to sit
on her shoulder while she was working.
In the spring she opened the window for it to fly away, but it lived
in the woods near by all summer, and came often in the early morning to
sing its sweetest songs at her door.
Next: The Stranger Child
Previous: The Horn Of Plenty