How they did it, I don't know, but they managed to get through
breakfast somehow. Then there was a glorious spinning of tops, and
playing of mouth-organs, and blowing of trumpets, throughout the
morning. Meantime the whole house was fragrant with the smells of
cooking turkey, and sweet potatoes, and boiled onions, and chili
sauce, and homemade chow chow, and doughnuts, and pumpkin pie, and
plum pudding, and pound cake, and caramel cake, and jumbles (all cut
in fancy shapes) and--but there, the list is long enough to make any
one's mouth water, and that isn't fair. Needless to say, the children
didn't try all of the list, though they would have been quite willing,
but Mother made rather a good selection for them. Anyway, the smells
and tastes of that fine dinner seemed to go very nicely with the
wreaths in the window and the bright red berries. But where was the
Tree? It had vanished--probably in the parlor.

They couldn't go in--oh, no--not yet. And after Mother had washed all
the thousand and one dishes, helped by Black-eyed Susan--not
Black-eyed Susan who lived in the pasture, but the one who lived in
the cabin on the canal--she entered the parlor, closing the door very
carefully so they couldn't get even a glimpse of what was inside. It
was funny how Mother found time to do all the things she did that
day--yes, and all the week and month before it. Her hands, Marmaduke
said, were like the magic hands in the "Arabian Nights," and he was
right. At least the Toyman said,--

"You can bet your bottom dollar on that, my son."

All of which was very strange, when Marmaduke didn't have any pennies
even, in his bank, bottom or top, having spent them on surprises for