Christmas Every Day | Page 4

then they just sat down and cried--they were
so mad. There are about twenty million boys in the United States, and
so you can imagine what a noise they made. Some men got together
before night, with a little powder that hadn't turned into purple sugar
yet, and they said they would fire off one cannon, anyway. But the
cannon burst into a thousand pieces, for it was nothing but rock-candy,
and some of the men nearly got killed. The Fourth of July orations all
turned into Christmas carols, and when anybody tried to read the
Declaration, instead of saying, "When in the course of human events it
becomes necessary," he was sure to sing, "God rest you, merry
gentlemen." It was perfectly awful.
The little girl drew a deep sigh of satisfaction.
"And how was it at Thanksgiving?"
Her papa hesitated. "Well, I'm almost afraid to tell you. I'm afraid you'll
think it's wicked."
"Well, tell, anyway," said the little girl.
Well, before it came Thanksgiving it had leaked out who had caused all
these Christmases. The little girl had suffered so much that she had
talked about it in her sleep; and after that hardly anybody would play
with her. People just perfectly despised her, because if it had not been
for her greediness it wouldn't have happened; and now, when it came
Thanksgiving, and she wanted them to go to church, and have
squash-pie and turkey, and show their gratitude, they said that all the
turkeys had been eaten up for her old Christmas dinners, and if she
would stop the Christmases, they would see about the gratitude. Wasn't
it dreadful? And the very next day the little girl began to send letters to
the Christmas Fairy, and then telegrams, to stop it. But it didn't do any
good; and then she got to calling at the Fairy's house, but the girl that

came to the door always said, "Not at home," or "Engaged," or "At
dinner," or something like that; and so it went on till it came to the old
once-a-year Christmas Eve. The little girl fell asleep, and when she
woke up in the morning--
"She found it was all nothing but a dream," suggested the little girl.
"No, indeed!" said her papa. "It was all every bit true!"
"Well, what did she find out, then?"
"Why, that it wasn't Christmas at last, and wasn't ever going to be, any
more. Now it's time for breakfast."
The little girl held her papa fast around the neck.
"You sha'n't go if you're going to leave it so!"
"How do you want it left?"
"Christmas once a year."
"All right," said her papa; and he went on again.
Well, there was the greatest rejoicing all over the country, and it
extended clear up into Canada. The people met together everywhere,
and kissed and cried for joy. The city carts went around and gathered
up all the candy and raisins and nuts, and dumped them into the river;
and it made the fish perfectly sick; and the whole United States, as far
out as Alaska, was one blaze of bonfires, where the children were
burning up their gift-books and presents of all kinds. They had the
greatest time!
The little girl went to thank the old Fairy because she had stopped its
being Christmas, and she said she hoped she would keep her promise
and see that Christmas never, never came again. Then the Fairy
frowned, and asked her if she was sure she knew what she meant; and
the little girl asked her, Why not? and the old Fairy said that now she
was behaving just as greedily as ever, and she'd better look out. This

made the little girl think it all over carefully again, and she said she
would be willing to have it Christmas about once in a thousand years;
and then she said a hundred, and then she said ten, and at last she got
down to one. Then the Fairy said that was the good old way that had
pleased people ever since Christmas began, and she was agreed. Then
the little girl said, "What're your shoes made of?" And the Fairy said,
"Leather." And the little girl said, "Bargain's done forever," and
skipped off, and hippity-hopped the whole way home, she was so glad.
"How will that do?" asked the papa.
"First-rate!" said the little girl; but she hated to have the story stop, and
was rather sober. However, her mamma put her head in at the door, and
asked her papa:
"Are you never coming to breakfast? What have you been telling that
child?"
"Oh, just a moral tale."
The little girl caught him around the neck again.
"We know! Don't you tell what, papa! Don't you tell what!"

TURKEYS