“Shout to Jehovah, all the earth,
Serve ye Jehovah with gladness; before
Him bow with singing mirth.”

“Ah, child, methinks the children of Old England are singing different words from those to-day,” spoke Hannah at length, with a faraway look in her eyes.

“Why, Hannah?  What songs are the little English children singing now?” questioned Remember in surprise.

“It lacks but two days of Christmas, child, and in my old home everybody is singing Merry Christmas songs.”

“But thou hast not told me what is Christmas!’ persisted the child.

“Ah, me!  Thou dost not know, ’tis true.  Christmas, Remember, is the birthday of the Christ-Child, of Jesus, whom thou hast learned to love,” Hannah answered softly.

“But what makes the English children so happy then?  And we are English, thou hast told me, Hannah.  Why don’t we keep Christmas, too?”

“In sooth we are English, child.  But the reason why we do not sing the Christmas carols or play the Christmas games makes a long, long story, Remember.  Hannah cannot tell it so that little children will understand.  Thou must ask some other, child.”

Hannah and the little girl were just then near the two women on the deck, and Remember said: 

“Mistress Brewster, Hannah sayeth she knoweth not how to tell why Love and Wrestling and Constance and the others do not sing the Christmas songs or play the Christmas games.  But thou wilt tell me wilt thou not?” she added coaxingly.

A sad look came into Mistress Brewster’s eyes, and Mistress Standish looked grave, too.  No one spoke for a few seconds, until Hannah said almost sharply: 

“Why could we not burn a Yule log Monday, and make some meal into little cakes for the children?”

“Nay, Hannah,” answered the gentle voice of Mistress Brewster.  “Such are but vain shows and not for those of us who believe in holier things.  But,” she added, with a kind glance at little Remember, “wouldst thou like to know why we have left Old England and do not keep the Christmas Day?  Thou canst not understand it all, child, and yet it may do thee no harm to hear the story.  It may help thee to be a brave and happy little girl in the midst of our hard life.”

“Surely it can do no harm, Mistress Brewster,” spoke Rose Standish, gently.  “Remember is a little Pilgrim now, and she ought, methinks, to know something of the reason for our wandering.  Come here, child, and sit by me, while good Mistress Brewster tells thee how cruel men have made us suffer.  Then will I sing thee one of the Christmas carols.”

With these words she held out her hands to little Remember, who ran quickly to the side of Mistress Standish, and eagerly waited for the story to begin.

“We have not always lived in Holland, Remember.  Most of us were born in England, and England is the best country in the world.  ’Tis a land to be proud of, Remember, though some of its rulers have been wicked and cruel.