We agreed to do everything in the way of decoration.  He made only one condition:  that the people should come to the service.  I could answer for all our household and for some of the neighbours—­almost all, in fact—­as I was sure the novelty of the Christmas Tree would attract them, and they wouldn’t mind the church service thrown in.

We went of course to see the Mayor, as the cure was obliged to notify him that he wished to open the church, and also to choose the day.  We took Thursday, which is the French holiday; that left us just two days to make our preparations.  We told Madame Isidore (the school-mistress) we would come on Wednesday for the church, bringing flowers, candles, etc., and Thursday morning to dress the Tree.  The service was fixed for three o’clock—­the Tree afterward in the school-room.  We found our big ballots[9] from the bazaars and other shops, when we got home, and all the evening we wrote tickets and names (some of them so high-sounding—­Ismerie, Aline, Leocadie, etc.), and filled little red and yellow bags, which were very troublesome to make, with “dragees.”

  [9] Big packages.

Wednesday we made a fine expedition to the woods—­the whole party, the donkey-cart, and one of the keepers to choose the Tree—­a most important performance, as we wanted the real pyramid “sapin,” tapering off to a fine point at the top.  Labbey (keeper) told us his young son and the coachman’s son had been all the morning in the woods getting enormous branches of pine, holly, and ivy, which we would find at the church.  We came across various old women making up their bundles of fagots and dead wood (they are always allowed to come once a week to pick up the dead wood, under the keeper’s surveillance).  They were principally from Louvry and St. Quentin, and were staggering along, carrying quite heavy bundles on their poor old bent backs.  However, they were very smiling to-day, and I think the burden was lightened by the thought of the morrow.  We found a fine tree, which was installed with some difficulty in the donkey-cart; Francis and Alice taking turns driving, perched on the trunk of the tree, and Labbey walking behind, supporting the top branches.

We found the boys at the church, having already begun their decorations—­enormous, high pine branches ranged all along the wall, and trails of ivy on the windows.  The maids had arrived in the carriage, bringing the new red carpet, vases, candelabras and tall candlesticks, also two splendid wax candles painted and decorated, which Gertrude Schuyler had brought us from Italy; all the flowers the gardener would give them, principally chrysanthemums and Christmas roses.  It seems he wasn’t at all well disposed; couldn’t imagine why “ces dames” wanted to despoil the green-houses “pour ce petit trou de St. Quentin.”