… ‘But why shouldn’t I be merry?’ asked the little mauve mouse. ‘Tomorrow is Christmas, and this is Christmas eve.’
‘So it is’, said the old clock. ‘I had really forgotten all about it. But, tell me, what is Christmas to you, little Miss Mauve Mouse?’
‘A great deal to me!’ cried the little mauve mouse. ‘I have been very good a very long time: I have not used any bad words, nor have I gnawed any holes, nor have I stolen any canary seed, nor have I worried my mother by running behind the flour-barrel where that horrid trap is set. In fact, I have been so good that I am very sure Santa Claus will bring me something very pretty.’
This seemed to amuse the old clock mightily; in fact the old clock fell to laughing so heartily that in an unguarded moment she struck twelve instead of ten, which was exceedingly careless and therefore to be reprehended.
‘Why, you silly little mauve mouse’, said the old clock, ‘you don’t believe in Santa Claus, do you?’
‘Of course I do’, answered the little mauve mouse. ‘Believe in Santa Claus? Why shouldn’t I? Didn’t Santa Claus bring me a beautiful butter-cracker last Christmas, and a lovely ginger-snap, and a delicious rind of cheese, and-and-ots of things? I should be very ungrateful if I did not believe in Santa Claus, and I certainly shall not disbelieve in him at the very moment when I am expecting him to arrive with a bundle of goodies for me. …
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