5.  How Bessie Blithesome Came to the Laughing Valley

  One day, as Claus sat before his door to enjoy the sunshine
while he busily carved the head and horns of a toy deer, he
looked up and discovered a glittering cavalcade of horsemen
approaching through the Valley.

  When they drew nearer he saw that the band consisted of a
score of men-at-arms, clad in bright armor and bearing in
their hands spears and battle-axes.  In front of these rode
little Bessie Blithesome, the pretty daughter of that proud
Lord of Lerd who had once driven Claus from his palace.  Her
palfrey was pure white, its bridle was covered with glittering
gems, and its saddle draped with cloth of gold, richly
broidered.  The soldiers were sent to protect her from harm
while she journeyed.

  Claus was surprised, but he continued to whittle and to sing
until the cavalcade drew up before him.  Then the little girl
leaned over the neck of her palfrey and said:

  "Please, Mr. Claus, I want a toy!"

  Her voice was so pleading that Claus jumped up at once and
stood beside her.  But he was puzzled how to answer her
request.

  "You are a rich lord's daughter," said he, "and have all that
you desire."

  "Except toys," added Bessie.  "There are no toys in all the
world but yours."

  "And I make them for the poor children, who have nothing else
to amuse them," continued Claus.

  "Do poor children love to play with toys more than rich ones?"
asked Bessie.

  "I suppose not," said Claus, thoughtfully.

  "Am I to blame because my father is a lord?  Must I be denied
the pretty toys I long for because other children are poorer
than I?" she inquired earnestly.

  "I'm afraid you must, dear," he answered; "for the poor have
nothing else with which to amuse themselves.  You have your
pony to ride, your servants to wait on you, and every comfort
that money can procure."

  "But I want toys!" cried Bessie, wiping away the tears that
forced themselves into her eyes.  "If I can not have them, I
shall be very unhappy."

  Claus was troubled, for her grief recalled to him the thought
that his desire was to make all children happy, without regard
to their condition in life.  Yet, while so many poor children
were clamoring for his toys he could not bear to give one to
them to Bessie Blithesome, who had so much already to make her
happy.

  "Listen, my child," said he, gently; "all the toys I am now
making are promised to others.  But the next shall be yours,
since your heart so longs for it.  Come to me again in two
days and it shall be ready for you."

  Bessie gave a cry of delight, and leaning over her pony's neck
she kissed Claus prettily upon his forehead.  Then, calling to
her men-at-arms, she rode gaily away, leaving Claus to resume
his work.

  "If I am to supply the rich children as well as the poor
ones," he thought, "I shall not have a spare moment in the
whole year!  But is it right I should give to the rich? 
Surely I must go to Necile and talk with her about this
matter."

  So when he had finished the toy deer, which was very like a
deer he had known in the Forest glades, he walked into Burzee
and made his way to the bower of the beautiful Nymph Necile,
who had been his foster mother.

  She greeted him tenderly and lovingly, listening with interest
to his story of the visit of Bessie Blithesome.

  "And now tell me," said he, "shall I give toys to rich
children?"

  "We of the Forest know nothing of riches," she replied.  "It
seems to me that one child is like another child, since they
are all made of the same clay, and that riches are like a
gown, which may be put on or taken away, leaving the child
unchanged.  But the Fairies are guardians of mankind, and know
mortal children better than I.  Let us call the Fairy Queen."

  This was done, and the Queen of the Fairies sat beside them
and heard Claus relate his reasons for thinking the rich
children could get along without his toys, and also what the
Nymph had said.

  "Necile is right," declared the Queen; "for, whether it be
rich or poor, a child's longings for pretty playthings are but
natural.  Rich Bessie's heart may suffer as much grief as poor
Mayrie's; she can be just as lonely and discontented, and just
as gay and happy.  I think, friend Claus, it is your duty to
make all little ones glad, whether they chance to live in
palaces or in cottages."

  "Your words are wise, fair Queen," replied Claus, "and my
heart tells me they are as just as they are wise.  Hereafter
all children may claim my services."

  Then he bowed before the gracious Fairy and, kissing Necile's
red lips, went back into his Valley.

  At the brook he stopped to drink, and afterward he sat on the
bank and took a piece of moist clay in his hands while he
thought what sort of toy he should make for Bessie Blithesome. 
He did not notice that his fingers were working the clay into
shape until, glancing downward, he found he had unconsciously
formed a head that bore a slight resemblance to the Nymph
Necile!

  At once he became interested.  Gathering more of the clay from
the bank he carried it to his house.  Then, with the aid of
his knife and a bit of wood he succeeded in working the clay
into the image of a toy nymph.  With skillful strokes he
formed long, waving hair on the head and covered the body with
a gown of oakleaves, while the two feet sticking out at the
bottom of the gown were clad in sandals.

  But the clay was soft, and Claus found he must handle it
gently to avoid ruining his pretty work.

  "Perhaps the rays of the sun will draw out the moisture and
cause the clay to become hard," he thought.  So he laid the
image on a flat board and placed it in the glare of the sun.

  This done, he went to his bench and began painting the toy
deer, and soon he became so interested in the work that he
forgot all about the clay nymph.  But next morning, happening
to notice it as it lay on the board, he found the sun had
baked it to the hardness of stone, and it was strong enough to
be safely handled.

  Claus now painted the nymph with great care in the likeness of
Necile, giving it deep-blue eyes, white teeth, rosy lips and
ruddy-brown hair. The gown he colored oak-leaf green, and when
the paint was dry Claus himself was charmed with the new toy. 
Of course it was not nearly so lovely as the real Necile; but,
considering the material of which it was made, Claus thought
it was very beautiful.

  When Bessie, riding upon her white palfrey, came to his
dwelling next day, Claus presented her with the new toy.  The
little girl's eyes were brighter than ever as she examined the
pretty image, and she loved it at once, and held it close to
her breast, as a mother does to her child.

  "What is it called, Claus?" she asked.

  Now Claus knew that Nymphs do not like to be spoken of by
mortals, so he could not tell Bessie it was an image of Necile
he had given her. But as it was a new toy he searched his mind
for a new name to call it by, and the first word he thought of
he decided would do very well.

  "It is called a dolly, my dear," he said to Bessie.

  "I shall call the dolly my baby," returned Bessie, kissing it
fondly; "and I shall tend it and care for it just as Nurse
cares for me. Thank you very much, Claus; your gift has made
me happier than I have ever been before!"

  Then she rode away, hugging the toy in her arms, and Claus,
seeing her delight, thought he would make another dolly,
better and more natural than the first.

  He brought more clay from the brook, and remembering that
Bessie had called the dolly her baby he resolved to form this
one into a baby's image.  That was no difficult task to the
clever workman, and soon the baby dolly was lying on the board
and placed in the sun to dry.  Then, with the clay that was
left, he began to make an image of Bessie Blithesome herself.

  This was not so easy, for he found he could not make the
silken robe of the lord's daughter out of the common clay.  So
he called the Fairies to his aid, and asked them to bring him
colored silks with which to make a real dress for the clay
image.  The Fairies set off at once on their errand, and
before nightfall they returned with a generous supply of silks
and laces and golden threads.

  Claus now became impatient to complete his new dolly, and
instead of waiting for the next day's sun he placed the clay
image upon his hearth and covered it over with glowing coals. 
By morning, when he drew the dolly from the ashes, it had
baked as hard as if it had lain a full day in the hot sun.

  Now our Claus became a dressmaker as well as a toymaker.  He
cut the lavender silk, and nearly sewed it into a beautiful
gown that just fitted the new dolly.  And he put a lace collar
around its neck and pink silk shoes on its feet.  The natural
color of baked clay is a light gray, but Claus painted the
face to resemble the color of flesh, and he gave the dolly
Bessie's brown eyes and golden hair and rosy cheeks.

  It was really a beautiful thing to look upon, and sure to
bring joy to some childish heart.  While Claus was admiring it
he heard a knock at his door, and little Mayrie entered.  Her
face was sad and her eyes red with continued weeping.

  "Why, what has grieved you, my dear?" asked Claus, taking the
child in his arms.

  "I've--I've--bwoke my tat!" sobbed Mayrie.

  "How?" he inquired, his eyes twinkling.

  "I--I dwopped him, an' bwoke off him's tail; an'--an'--then I
dwopped him an' bwoke off him's ear!  An'--an' now him's all
spoilt!"

  Claus laughed.

  "Never mind, Mayrie dear," he said.  "How would you like this
new dolly, instead of a cat?"

  Mayrie looked at the silk-robed dolly and her eyes grew big
with astonishment.

  "Oh, Tlaus!" she cried, clapping her small hands together with
rapture; "tan I have 'at boo'ful lady?"

  "Do you like it?" he asked.

  "I love it!" said she.  "It's better 'an tats!"

  "Then take it, dear, and be careful not to break it."

  Mayrie took the dolly with a joy that was almost reverent, and
her face dimpled with smiles as she started along the path
toward home.