: Cinderella The Little Glass Slipper

"To think that this is Christmas Day!"

Said Harold to his aunt,

"I know it really is, and yet,

Believe it--well, I can't!

I've had a tree, my stocking, too,

This morning full I found,

But how can I believe it

With no snow upon the ground?

Look at the sea so bright and blue,

And feel the soft, warm air,

And there are roses all in bloom,

And lilies, I declare!

I think that California

Is lovely, but it's queer,

How different Christmas is at home

From what it is out here."

"Ah, Harold!" gently said his aunt,

"No matter where you go,

In country strewn with flowers like this,

Or clad in ice and snow,

The birthday of the Christ-child is

The same in every place,

And happy greetings in His name,

Bring smiles to every face."