Pictures By [signed] Florence K. Upton

Words By
Bertha Upton

DeWolfe, Fiske & Co.  Boston

[Illustration]

  ’Twas on a frosty Christmas Eve
  When Peggy Deutchland woke
       From her wooden sleep
       On the counter steep
  And to her neighbour spoke,

  “Get up! get up, dear Sarah Jane! 
  Now strikes the midnight hour,
       When dolls and toys
       Taste human joys,
  And revel in their power.

[Illustration]

  I long to try my limbs a bit,
  And you must walk with me;
       Our joints are good
       Though made of wood,
  And I pine for liberty.

[Illustration]

  For twelve long months we’ve lain in here. 
  But we don’t care a fig;
       When wide awake
       It does not take
  Us long to dance a jig.

[Illustration]

  But who comes here across our path,
  In gay attire bedight? 
       A little girl
       With hair in curl,
  And eyes so round and bright.

[Illustration]

  Good evening Miss, how fine you look,
  Beside you I feel bare;
       I must confess
       I need a dress
  If I would look as fair.

[Illustration]

  On that high pole I see a flag
  With colors red and blue;
       Dear Sarah Jane
       ’Tis very plain
  A climb you’ll have to do.

[Illustration]

  You’re young and light—­so now be quick
  Dear sister good and kind;
       You look dismayed
       Don’t be afraid,
  It’s not so hard you’ll find.

  Then up the pole with trembling limbs,
  Poor Sarah Jane did mount;
       She dared not lag,
       But seized the flag,
  Ere you could twenty count.

  Big Peggy gazed with deep concern,
  And mouth wide open too;
       Her only care
       That she might wear
  A gown of brilliant hue.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

  Now Peg’ by instinct seemed to know
  Where scissors might be got;
       The “fits” were bad,
       But then she had
  No patterns on the spot.

  Soon where the garments hurried on;
  Sarah looked well in blue;
       Mirror in hand
       She took her stand,
  While Peggy pinned her’s through.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

  Said Peggy—­“After work so hard,
  I think a rest we need;
       Let’s take a ride
       Seated astride
  Upon this gentle steed.”

  Then simple Sarah Jane climbed up
  Upon his wooden back;
       With tim’rous heart
       She felt him start
  Upon the open track.

[Illustration]

  Ere long they knew that hidden there,
  Beneath a stolid mien,
       Dwelt a fierce will. 
       They could not still
  They rode as if by steam!