“How did the Costumer look?” he asked respectfully; he thought Violetta the most beautiful lady on earth.

Then Violetta described the Costumer, and told him of the unavailing attempts that had been made to find him.  There were a great many detectives out, constantly at work.

“I know where he is!” said the Cherry-man.  “He’s up in one of my cherry-trees.  He’s been living there ever since cherries were ripe, and he won’t come down.”

Then Violetta ran and told her father in great excitement, and he at once called a meeting of the Aldermen, and in a few hours half the city was on the road to the Cherry-man’s.

He had a beautiful orchard of cherry-trees, all laden with fruit.  And, sure enough, in one of the largest, way up amongst the topmost branches, sat the Costumer in his red velvet short-clothes and his diamond knee-buckles.  He looked down between the green boughs.  “Good-morning, friends,” he shouted.

The Aldermen shook their gold-headed canes at him, and the people danced round the tree in a rage.  Then they began to climb.  But they soon found that to be impossible.  As fast as they touched a hand or foot to the tree, back it flew with a jerk exactly as if the tree pushed it.  They tried a ladder, but the ladder fell back the moment it touched the tree, and lay sprawling upon the ground.  Finally, they brought axes and thought they could chop the tree down, Costumer and all; but the wood resisted the axes as if it were iron, and only dented them, receiving no impression itself.

Meanwhile, the Costumer sat up in the tree, eating cherries, and throwing the stones down.  Finally, he stood up on a stout branch and, looking down, addressed the people.

“It’s of no use, your trying to accomplish anything in this way,” said he; “you’d better parley.  I’m willing to come to terms with you, and make everything right, on two conditions.”

The people grew quiet then, and the Mayor stepped forward as spokesman.  “Name your two conditions,” said he, rather testily.  “You own, tacitly, that you are the cause of all this trouble.”

“Well,” said the Costumer, reaching out for a handful of cherries, “this Christmas Masquerade of yours was a beautiful idea; but you wouldn’t do it every year, and your successors might not do it at all.  I want those poor children to have a Christmas every year.  My first condition is, that every poor child in the city hangs its stocking for gifts in the City Hall on every Christmas Eve, and gets it filled, too.  I want the resolution filed and put away in the city archives.”

“We agree to the first condition!” cried the people with one voice, without waiting for the Mayor and Aldermen.

“The second condition,” said the Costumer, “is that this good young Cherry-man here, has the Mayor’s daughter, Violetta, for his wife.  He has been kind to me, letting me live in his cherry-tree, and eat his cherries, and I want to reward him.”