Therefore, as you can understand, the time was right busily spent.  The full fair garden, with its flowers and the singing birds and the gracious arbor and the Siege of Restfulness, found favor with those children, and amid these joyous scenes did Master Sweetheart have to tell each day of that far-off land of Ever-Plaisance, whither he said he was going.  And one day, when the sun shone very bright, and the full fair garden joyed in the music of those birds, Master Sweetheart did not come, and they missed the little lame boy and wondered where he was.  And as he never came again they thought at last that of a surety he had departed into that country whereof he loved to tell.  Which thing filled our little Mistress Merciless with wonder and inquiry; and I think she was lonely ever after that,—­lonely for Master Sweetheart.

I am thinking now of her and of him; for this is the Christmas season,—­the time when it is most meet to think of the children and other sweet and holy things.  There is snow everywhere, snow and cold.  The garden is desolate and voiceless:  the flowers are gone, the trees are ghosts, the birds have departed.  It is winter out there, and it is winter, too, in this heart of mine.  Yet in this Christmas season I think of them, and it pleaseth me—­God forbid that I offend with much speaking—­it pleaseth me to tell of the little things they did and loved.  And you shall understand it all if, perchance, this sacred Christmas time a little Mistress Merciless of your own, or a little Master Sweetheart, clingeth to your knee and sanctifieth your hearth-stone.

When of an evening all the joy of day was done, would our little Mistress Merciless fall aweary; and then her eyelids would grow exceeding heavy and her little tired hands were fain to fold.  At such a time it was my wont to beguile her weariness with little tales of faery, or with the gentle play that sleepy children like.  Much was her fancy taken with what I told her of the train that every night whirleth away to Shut-Eye Town, bearing unto that beauteous country sleepy little girls and boys.  Nor would she be content until I told her thereof,—­yes, every night whilst I robed her in her cap and gown would she demand of me that tale of Shut-Eye Town, and the wonderful train that was to bear her thither.  Then would I say in this wise: 

At Bedtime-ville there is a train of cars that waiteth for you, my sweet,—­for you and for other little ones that would go to quiet, slumbrous Shut-Eye Town.

But make no haste; there is room for all.  Each hath a tiny car that is snug and warm, and when the train starteth each car swingeth soothingly this way and that way, this way and that way, through all the journey of the night.

Your little gown is white and soft; your little cap will hold those pretty curls so fast that they cannot get away.  Here is a curl that peepeth out to see what is going to happen.  Hush, little curl! make no noise; we will let you peep out at the wonderful sights, but you must not tell the others about it; let them sleep, snuggled close together.