She was so taken up with her playing that she did not notice who had entered.  She was the only one who had not noticed.  The angels were cowering against the walls of the cave.  The Man had roused and crouched covering his face with his hands.  Only the Virgin stood upright, meek and fearless, with a look of unconquerable challenge.  The Woman was quite oblivious; she went on with her mother-nonsense.  And there stood God regarding her through a cloud of puzzlement and anger.

The game that she played with the baby-feet she was inventing on the spur of the moment.  Starting with the tiniest toe, she wiggled it.  Then she wiggled the next tiniest, and the next tiniest, and the next tiniest, till she had come to the biggest of the tiny toes.  To each toe as she wiggled it, she gave a name; when she had wiggled them all she buried her face in the fat, kicking legs.

“And this is Peedy Peedy,” she said as she wiggled the littlest toe.  “And this next babiest is Polly Loody.  And this in the middle is Lady Fissle.  And this tall fellow is Lally Vassal.  And last we come of the big, big toe, who’s king of them all.  His name is Great Ormondon.”  Then she dived her lips into the little squirming legs and kissed them as if she were going to make a meal of them.

She had to do it four times before the baby smiled at her.  At first he only looked serious and astonished.  The fifth time his smile broadened and he gurgled.  But the sixth, as she came to “The Great Ormondon,” he burst into a crowing laugh.  Never before had a laugh been heard in earth or Heaven.  It was so surprising that the angels ceased from cowering and the Man uncovered his face to see better.

Then God spoke.  His voice was kind and tender like the cooing of doves—­so kind and tender that the Woman, discovering His presence, wasn’t a bit frightened.  Sweeping the hair back from her eyes, she nodded to Him in the old friendly fashion in which she had been used to greet Him in Eden.

“Can you make him do it again?” God asked.

He came nearer and leant above her shoulder.  So she made the baby laugh again.

“Could I make him?”

“Try,” said the Woman.

So God wiggled the little toes, starting with the tiniest, and the Woman whispered the five magic names to Him secretly so that He might say them all correctly.  “Peedy Peedy.  Polly Loody.  Lady Fissle.  Lally Vassal.  And the Great Ormondon.”

When God boomed out the last large sounding name, the baby doubled his little fists, crowing and laughing unmistakably.  Then God laughed, too, and the Virgin, and all the Hosts of Heaven, and the Man and the Woman, till at last the dog and the robin couldn’t restrain themselves any longer and joined in His laughter.  When once they’d started laughing it was difficult to stop.  Besides, they didn’t want to stop.  They were doing it for the first time and they liked the feeling of it.  God laughed till the tears streamed down His face.  By the time He held up His hand for silence, there was scarcely an angel who wasn’t wearing his halo crooked.