After a time they
stopped.
"Here we are," said the Brownie.
He uncovered their eyes, and the children saw that they were standing
before a big, thick gate.
The Brownie knocked and the gate was swung open. They went through it,
right into Santa Claus's garden.
It was a very queer garden. There were rows and rows of Christmas
trees, all glittering with balls and cobwebby tinsel, and instead
of flower beds there were beds of every kind of toy in the world.
Margaret at once ran over to a bed of dolls.
"Let's see if any of them are ripe," said the Brownie.
"Ripe?" said Margaret in great surprise.
"Why, of course," said the Brownie. "Now if this one is ripe it will
shut its eyes."
The Brownie picked a little doll from the bed and laid it in
Margaret's arms. Its eyes went half shut, and then stuck.
"No, it's not ripe yet," said the Brownie. "Try this one."
He picked another one, and this one shut its eyes just as if it had
gone to sleep.
"We'll take that one," he said, and he dropped it into a big sack he
was carrying.
"Now this one cries, if it's ripe," he said as he picked a lovely
infant doll. The Brownie gave it a squeeze, and the doll made a funny
squeaking noise.
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