So have I, says grandfather, and he kneels down behind Mother.

And I, says grandmother, and she kneels behind Grandfather.

Then, close behind one another, they go under the table, and when they come out at the other end, Father and Grandfather have turned into little boys, and Mother and Grandmother have turned into little girls.  While this is happening the brownies and fairies come out of the box and basket.

Oh, Jolly! cries Walter.  Is this you, grandfather?  He takes hold of hands with the little boy that Grandfather has turned into, and swings him around in a circle.

Oh, mother, cries Gertrude to one of the little girls, hugging her, how darling you are.  Isn’t this fun?

Let’s all play some game together, proposes Walter.

“London Bridge,” shall we play that?  Gertrude suggests.  The others all clap their hands; so she goes on.  She says, Walter, you and I will be the bridge.  What shall we choose?  They whisper together.

Then the game is played in the usual way.  Each captive is offered a choice between “plum pudding” (that is Gertrude’s side) and “ice cream” (that is Walter’s side).  At the very moment when the tug-of-war is about to begin, the outside door opens, and in comes Santa Claus.  At once, they all leave their games, and gather around him.

Oh, Santa Claus, cries Walter, have you come to play with us?

How can I play with you? answers Santa Claus.  I’m far too big, and far, far too old.  One of the fairies has gone to the table, and gotten a plate of plum pudding, which she now offers to Santa Claus.  What’s this? he asks.  Plum pudding?  Well, I never could resist that.  He begins to eat it.  This surely is a first-class pudding.  He takes another spoonful.  Why, what’s this?  A nut in the pudding?  A hazel-nut!  He stops short, and holds the plate away from him.  A hazel nut! he exclaims again.  I declare, I’d clean forgotten all about that.  And now I’ve gone and eaten one.  Goodness!  Is it going to work, I wonder.  He puts the plate down on the table.  Yes, I feel it coming.  Yes, it’s come.  I’ve just got to crawl under that table.  Get out of the way there.  I’ve got to do it.  It’s no use trying not to.

The children, the brownies, and the fairies are all delighted, and laugh, and dance up and down, and clap their hands.

Walter cries out, Go on, Santa.  You’ll make a jolly boy.

Down goes Santa Claus on his hands and knees, and crawls under the table.  When he comes out on the other end, he is a little roley poley boy, smaller and fatter than any of the others, and dressed in white with red trimmings.  All the others join hands with him in a circle, and they swing around gleefully.

Now for a game of “Follow my leader,” shouts Walter.  I’ll be leader; come after me.