4. How Little Mayrie Became Frightened

The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus

by L. Frank Baum

The winter was over now, and all the Laughing Valley was filled
with joyous excitement. The brook was so happy at being free once
again that it gurgled more boisterously than ever and dashed so
recklessly against the rocks that it sent showers of spray high in
the air. The grass thrust its sharp little blades upward through the
mat of dead stalks where it had hidden from the snow, but the flowers
were yet too timid to show themselves, although the Ryls were busy
feeding their roots. The sun was in remarkably good humor, and sent
his rays dancing merrily throughout the Valley.

Claus was eating his dinner one day when he heard a timid knock
on his door.

"Come in!" he called.

No one entered, but after a pause came another rapping.

Claus jumped up and threw open the door. Before him stood a
small girl holding a smaller brother fast by the hand.

"Is you Tlaus?" she asked, shyly.

"Indeed I am, my dear!" he answered, with a laugh, as he caught
both children in his arms and kissed them. "You are very welcome,
and you have come just in time to share my dinner."

He took them to the table and fed them with fresh milk and
nut-cakes. When they had eaten enough he asked:

"Why have you made this long journey to see me?"

"I wants a tat!" replied little Mayrie; and her brother, who had
not yet learned to speak many words, nodded his head and exclaimed
like an echo: "Tat!"

"Oh, you want my toy cats, do you?" returned Claus, greatly
pleased to discover that his creations were so popular with
children.

The little visitors nodded eagerly.

"Unfortunately," he continued, "I have but one cat now ready,
for I carried two to children in the town yesterday. And the one I
have shall be given to your brother, Mayrie, because he is the
smaller; and the next one I make shall be for you."

The boy's face was bright with smiles as he took the precious
toy Claus held out to him; but little Mayrie covered her face with
her arm and began to sob grievously.

"I--I--I wants a t--t--tat now!" she wailed.

Her disappointment made Claus feel miserable for a moment. Then
he suddenly remembered Shiegra.

"Don't cry, darling!" he said, soothingly; "I have a toy much
nicer than a cat, and you shall have that."

He went to the cupboard and drew out the image of the lioness,
which he placed on the table before Mayrie.

The girl raised her arm and gave one glance at the fierce teeth
and glaring eyes of the beast, and then, uttering a terrified scream,
she rushed from the house. The boy followed her, also screaming
lustily, and even dropping his precious cat in his fear.

For a moment Claus stood motionless, being puzzled and
astonished. Then he threw Shiegra's image into the cupboard and ran
after the children, calling to them not to be frightened.

Little Mayrie stopped in her flight and her brother clung to her
skirt; but they both cast fearful glances at the house until Claus
had assured them many times that the beast had been locked in the
cupboard.

"Yet why were you frightened at seeing it?" he asked. "It is
only a toy to play with!"

"It's bad!" said Mayrie, decidedly, "an'--an'--just horrid, an'
not a bit nice, like tats!"

"Perhaps you are right," returned Claus, thoughtfully. "But if
you will return with me to the house I will soon make you a pretty
cat."

So they timidly entered the house again, having faith in their
friend's words; and afterward they had the joy of watching Claus
carve out a cat from a bit of wood and paint it in natural colors.
It did not take him long to do this, for he had become skillful with
his knife by this time, and Mayrie loved her toy the more dearly
because she had seen it made.

After his little visitors had trotted away on their journey
homeward Claus sat long in deep thought. And he then decided that
such fierce creatures as his friend the lioness would never do as
models from which to fashion his toys.

"There must be nothing to frighten the dear babies," he
reflected; "and while I know Shiegra well, and am not afraid of her,
it is but natural that children should look upon her image with
terror. Hereafter I will choose such mild-mannered animals as
squirrels and rabbits and deer and lambkins from which to carve my
toys, for then the little ones will love rather than fear them."

He began his work that very day, and before bedtime had made a
wooden rabbit and a lamb. They were not quite so lifelike as the
cats had been, because they were formed from memory, while Blinkie
had sat very still for Claus to look at while he worked.

But the new toys pleased the children nevertheless, and the fame
of Claus' playthings quickly spread to every cottage on plain and in
village. He always carried his gifts to the sick or crippled
children, but those who were strong enough walked to the house in the
Valley to ask for them, so a little path was soon worn from the plain
to the door of the toy-maker's cottage.

First came the children who had been playmates of Claus, before
he began to make toys. These, you may be sure, were well supplied.
Then children who lived farther away heard of the wonderful images
and made journeys to the Valley to secure them. All little ones were
welcome, and never a one went away empty-handed.

This demand for his handiwork kept Claus busily occupied, but he
was quite happy in knowing the pleasure he gave to so many of the
dear children. His friends the immortals were pleased with his
success and supported him bravely.

The Knooks selected for him clear pieces of soft wood, that his
knife might not be blunted in cutting them; the Ryls kept him
supplied with paints of all colors and brushes fashioned from the
tips of timothy grasses; the Fairies discovered that the workman
needed saws and chisels and hammers and nails, as well as knives, and
brought him a goodly array of such tools.

Claus soon turned his living room into a most wonderful
workshop. He built a bench before the window, and arranged his tools
and paints so that he could reach everything as he sat on his stool.
And as he finished toy after toy to delight the hearts of little
children he found himself growing so gay and happy that he could not
refrain from singing and laughing and whistling all the day long.

"It's because I live in the Laughing Valley, where everything
else laughs!" said Claus.

But that was not the reason.