“We will,” said Curly Tail and Flop Ear and Baby Pinky, and off they trotted, after kissing their papa and mamma good-night, their little kinky tails flopping up and down like a lady’s earrings when she runs after a trolley car.

Darker and darker it grew, and still the snowflakes kept coming down until all the ground was white and the roofs of houses, too, and the gate posts and the pump in the yard and everything—­all white, ready for Christmas.

“Santa Claus’ reindeer can easily pull the sleigh tonight,” said Baby Pinky, as she looked from the window.

“Come, get back into bed!” called Curly Tail, “or Santa Claus won’t come.”

It was close to midnight, and still the snow came down.  Outside the Twistytail house, just as outside of every other house where the children believe in Santa Claus, there was heard the ringing of bells.  Then some one called: 

“Whoa, there, reindeer!”

Then there was a noise in the chimney.  Maybe it was the wind, or maybe it was a little bird crawling in to get warm.  I don’t know.  Anyway, there was a noise, but the piggie children never woke up.

And then—­and then—­and then—­in a little while it was Christmas morning.  Somewhere a horn blew.  Curly Tail heard it first, and, though it was scarcely daylight, he hopped out of bed.

“Wake up!” he cried, “Wake up everybody!  It’s Christmas!  Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” cried Flop Ear.

“Merry Christmas!” echoed Baby Pinky, and they all rushed downstairs.

“Mercy me!” exclaimed Mrs. Twistytail, rubbing her eyes.  “Christmas so soon?”

“Yes, indeed!” shouted the children.  “Oh, come and see what we have!”

Well, if I were to tell you all that happened at the Twistytail house that day, and about all the presents the children got, I’m sure I would be so long finishing that you would get hungry.  But oh! everything was lovely!

“I’ve got my toy steam engine!” cried Flop Ear.

“And I have my toy auto!” said his brother.

“Oh, I see my new doll carriage—­and a new doll in it—­and look at her little Christmas tree!” cried Baby Pinky!  “Oh, how lovely everything is!”

“Merry Christmas!” cried a voice at the door, and there stood Uncle Wiggily Longears, with a lot of bundles under his paws.  “Santa Claus left these at my house by mistake,” he said.  “They belong here!” and there was a sled, and skates and a football, and a rocking horse, and a jumping jack, and I don’t know what all.

“Merry Christmas!” cried another voice, and there stood Grandpa Squealer, the oldest pig of them all, and in his paws he had a lot of packages, and an extra one tied to his tail.

“Santa Claus left these at my house by mistake,” he said, “they belong here.”

And there was a blackboard and some building blocks, and a toy top, and toy horns, and a printing press and a phonograph, and oh!  I don’t know what all else besides.