it. Then all the children told her of every Christmas Eve they could
remember, and of the presents they had had; so that she went home
thinking of nothing but dolls, and hoops, and balls, and ribbons, and
marbles, and wagons, and kites. She told her mother about Santa Claus,
and her mother seemed to think that perhaps he did not know there was
any little girl in that house, and very likely he would not come at
all. But Piccola felt very sure Santa Claus would remember her, for
her little friends had promised to send a letter up the chimney to
remind him.

Christmas Eve came at last. Piccola's mother hurried home from her
work; they had their little supper of soup and bread, and soon it was
bedtime,--time to get ready for Santa Claus. But oh! Piccola
remembered then for the first time that the children had told her she
must hang up her stocking, and she hadn't any, and neither had her
mother.

How sad, how sad it was! Now Santa Claus would come, and perhaps be
angry because he couldn't find any place to put the present. The poor
little girl stood by the fireplace; and the big tears began to run
down her cheeks. Just then her mother called to her, "Hurry, Piccola;
come to bed." What should she do? But she stopped crying, and tried to
think; and in a moment she remembered her wooden shoes, and ran off to
get one of them. She put it close to the chimney, and said to herself,
"Surely Santa Claus will know what it's there for. He will know I
haven't any stockings, so I gave him the shoe instead."

Then she went off happily to her bed, and was asleep almost as soon as
she had nestled close to her mother's side.