3. The Christmas Gift

Once in the sunny land of France there was a little girl named Piccola, who lived all alone with her mother. They were very poor, and little Piccola had no dolls or toys, and she was often hungry and cold. One day when her mother was ill, Piccola worked hard all day trying to sell the stockings which she knit, while her own little bare feet were blue with cold. As Christmas drew near she said to her mother: “I wonder what Saint Nicholas will bring me this year? I have no stocking to hang in the fireplace, but I shall put my wooden shoe on the hearth for him. He will not forget me, I am sure.” “Do not think of it this year, my dear child,” replied her mother; “we should be glad if we have bread enough to eat.” But Piccola could not believe she would be forgotten. On Christmas Eve she put her little wooden shoe on the hearth before the fire and went to sleep to dream of good Saint Nicholas. The poor mother looked at the shoe and thought how disappointed the little girl would be to find it empty in the morning, and sighed to think she had nothing to put in it. When the morning dawned Piccola awoke and ran to her shoe, and there in it lay something with bright eyes looking up at her. A little swallow, cold and hungry, had flown into the chimney and down to the room and had crept into the shoe for warmth. Piccola danced for joy, and clasped the shivering swallow to her breast. “Look! Look!” she said to her mother. “A Christmas gift, a gift from the good Saint Nicholas!” and she danced again in her little bare feet. Then she fed and warmed the little bird, and cared for it tenderly all winter long. In the spring she opened the window for it to fly away, but it lived in the woods near-by, and sang often at her door.—Adapted from “Child Life in Many Lands,” Blaisdell.