The Boy Who Lived In Pudding Lane by Sarah Addington

Author:Sarah Addington
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grafton & Scratch Publishers

XI

THE DAY OF THE PARTY

THE NEXT MORNING, the Town Crier gave out the news that the Pied Piper of Hamelin had headed the other way. So all the Claus children jumped out of bed, pulled the cotton out of their ears, and rejoiced loudly at their freedom. But this was the Day of the Party, and bustling preparations were soon on foot again.

“Why is the party called for ten minutes after three?” asked Mr. Claus at dinnertime. They were all stuffing their food down hurriedly, in order to get the table cleared before the company should come.

“Well, a body has to set some time or other,” answered Mrs. Claus, “and ten minutes after three sounded genteel to me.”

Mr. Claus did not understand this, and neither did Santa, but Mrs. Claus was well content with the hour.

Oh, such a scramble as it was to get all the Clauses dressed for the party! First Mr. Claus had to have a clean baker’s apron and cap, starched so stiff that he scarcely dared move. Then Santa had to scrub his ears, brush his red suit, and shine his shoes until they hurt his eyes with their glare.

After that, the first batch of twins were washed and put into their apple-green trousers and canary colored coats; the next batch were washed and put into their funny little bloomers and shirts of orange and blue.

Good gracious, it was nearly ten minutes after three!

The baby was hurried into her white dress, and at last Mrs. Claus appeared, with her hair curled, her feet in new slippers, and, instead of her old brown apron, she wore a handsome dress of green muslin.

She smiled at Santa, but her smile did not last longer than a second, for she confessed that her new slippers did pinch horribly.

“Whatever made you get’em so small?” asked Mr. Claus. He was fussy and nervous, poor man. Parties didn’t come easy to him.

“It was the only pair they had in the shop,”said Mrs. Claus. “What else could I do ?”

Then she hobbled to the door on her poor pinched feet, and looked down Pudding Lane.

“Mercy on us, here they come!” she cried, lining up the family in a nice straight row.

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