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Blooming fairly, growing rarely,

Never flowerets were so gay! Perfume

breathing, joy bequeathing,

As our colors we display."

It made Claus laugh to hear the little things voice their happiness as they

nodded gracefully on their stems. But another strain caught his ear as the

sunbeams fell gently across his face and whispered:

Here is gladness, that our rays Warm the valley through the days; Here

is happiness, to give Comfort unto all who live!"

Yes!" cried Claus in answer, "there is happiness and joy in all things here.

The Laughing Valley is a valley of peace and good-will."

He passed the day talking with the ants and beetles and exchanging jokes

with the light-hearted butterflies. And at night he lay on his bed of soft moss

and slept soundly.

Then came the Fairies, merry but noiseless, bringing skillets and pots and

dishes and pans and all the tools necessary to prepare food and to comfort a

mortal. With these they filled cupboard and fireplace, finally placing a stout

suit of wool clothing on the stool by the bedside.

When Claus awoke he rubbed his eyes again, and laughed, and spoke aloud

his thanks to the Fairies and the Master Woodsman who had sent them. With

eager joy he examined all his new possessions, wondering what some might be

used for. But, in the days when he had clung to the girdle of the great Ak and

visited the cities of men, his eyes had been quick to note all the manners and

customs of the race to which he belonged; so he guessed from the gifts

brought by the Fairies that the Master expected him hereafter to live in the

fashion of his fellow-creatures.

Which means that I must plow the earth and plant corn," he reflected; "so

that when winter comes I shall have garnered food in plenty."

But, as he stood in the grassy Valley, he saw that to turn up the earth in

furrows would be to destroy hundreds of pretty, helpless flowers, as well as

thousands of the tender blades of grass. And this he could not bear to do.

Therefore he stretched out his arms and uttered a peculiar whistle he had

learned in the Forest, afterward crying:

Ryls of the Field Flowers--come to me!"

The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus