"Das ist gut!" "Die Engel-kinder!" cried the poor things as
they ate and warmed their purple hands at the comfortable blaze.
The girls had never been called angel children before, and
thought it very agreeable, especially Jo, who had been considered
a 'Sancho' ever since she was born. That was a very happy breakfast,
though they didn't get any of it. And when they went away,
leaving comfort behind, I think there were not in all the city
four merrier people than the hungry little girls who gave away
their breakfasts and contented themselves with bread and milk
on Christmas morning.

"That's loving our neighbor better than ourselves, and I
like it," said Meg, as they set out their presents while their
mother was upstairs collecting clothes for the poor Hummels.

Not a very splendid show, but there was a great deal of
love done up in the few little bundles, and the tall vase of
red roses, white chrysanthemums, and trailing vines, which
stood in the middle, gave quite an elegant air to the table.

"She's coming! Strike up, Beth! Open the door, Amy! Three
cheers for Marmee!" cried Jo, prancing about while Meg went to
conduct Mother to the seat of honor.

Beth played her gayest march, Amy threw open the door, and
Meg enacted escort with great dignity. Mrs. March was both
surprised and touched, and smiled with her eyes full as she
examined her presents and read the little notes which accompanied
them. The slippers went on at once, a new handkerchief was slipped