When the curtain opens you can see nothing at all at first, for the room is all dark, just as Mother left it, you remember, when she went out and took the light with her.  But after a moment you can hear something—­the sleighbells far away.  Nearer and nearer they come; then there is a stamping sound on the roof; then a sort of scrambling sound in the place where you know the chimney is; and then Santa Claus, who by this time is crouching down in the fire-place, turns the light of his lantern into the room.  He steps out carrying his pack, and then down the chimney come Jack and Polly.

Hush! says SANTA CLAUS, with his finger at his lips. Off to bed with you both!  And don’t you dare to open your eyes until the day-light comes.  It won’t be long.

On tiptoes Polly and Jack go out at the door.  Then Santa Claus turns to his work.  First he reads Polly’s letter by the light of his lantern, and fills Polly’s stocking and Mother’s; then he reads Jack’s letter and fills Jack’s stocking and Father’s; then he puts out the light so that the room is all dark again.  You hear him climbing up the chimney, then there is a jingling of sleighbells on the roof, which grows fainter and fainter, and then all is still once more.

After a little while you notice that you can see faintly through the window at the back, because it is beginning to be daylight.  Very, very slowly it grows brighter.  Then the door, that Jack and Polly went out by, opens, and in come the two children in their wrappers.

Is it daylight now? asks JACK, but he is looking toward the fire-place instead of toward the window.

Yes, I think it is, says POLLY, and she is looking in the same direction.

Then they go on tiptoe to the door of the other room, where Father and Mother sleep; they open the door and shout:

Merry Christmas!  Merry Christmas!

Two rather sleepy voices, from MOTHER first and then from FATHER, answer: Merry Christmas.  Merry Christmas. And MOTHER continues, All right, children; we’ll be there in a moment, as soon as we have put our wrappers on.

The children go over to the fire-place, and feel the lumpy stockings; and then in come Father and Mother in wrappers and nightcaps.

Oh, says FATHER, old Santa Claus hasn’t forgotten us, has he?  And candy canes are still in fashion, I see; I’m glad of that.  Bring Mother her stocking, Polly; and Jack, get mine for me.  We’ll sit down and take our time about it.

No fair, Jack, cries POLLY.  You’re peeking into your stocking.  I’ve only felt of mine.

But my thing is in a box, says JACK, so that I can’t see anything anyway.  Oh, let’s begin quick.

All right, says FATHER, and ladies first.  Mother, you lead off.

Shall I? says MOTHER, feeling her stocking.  Oh, I know what this round thing is:  it’s an orange.  No, it isn’t either:  it’s a ball of knitting cotton.  Just what I want, and the very kind I use.  Now, Polly, it’s your turn to see what is in the top of yours.