Monks so, but at the same time he did not dare to confess the truth
for fear they would put a penance upon his sister, and he could not
bear to think of her having to kneel upon dried peas.

He worked hard picking Christmas presents, and hid his unhappiness as
best he could. On Christmas Eve he was called into the chapel. The
Christmas Monks were all assembled there. The walls were covered with
green garlands and boughs and sprays of hollyberries, and branches
of wax lights were gleaming brightly amongst them. The altar and the
picture of the Blessed Child behind it were so bright as to almost
dazzle one; and right up in the midst of it, in a lovely white dress,
all wreaths and jewels, in a little chair with a canopy woven of green
branches over it, sat Peter's little sister.

And there were all the Christmas Monks in their white robes and
wreaths, going up in a long procession, with their hands full of the
very showiest Christmas presents to offer them to her!

But when they reached her and held out the lovely presents--the
first was an enchanting wax doll, the biggest beauty in the whole
garden--instead of reaching out her hands for them, she just drew
back, and said in her little sweet, piping voice: "Please, I ain't a
millacle, I'm only Peter's little sister."

"Peter?" said the abbot; "the Peter who works in our garden?"

"Yes," said the little sister.

Now here was a fine opportunity for a whole convent full of monks to
look foolish--filing up in procession with their hands full of gifts