" The little girl came into her papa's study, as she always did Saturday morning before breakfast, and asked for a story. He tried to beg off that morning, for he was very busy, but she would not let him. So he began:
¿Well, once there was a little pig¿¿
She put her hand over his mouth and stopped him at the word. She said she had heard little pig-stories till she was perfectly sick of them.
¿Well, what kind of story shall I tell, then?¿
¿About Christmas. It's getting to be the season. It's past Thanksgiving already.¿
¿It seems to me,¿ her papa argued, ¿that I've told as often about Christmas as I have about little pigs....."
Join thousands of book lovers
Sign up to our newsletter and receive discounts and inspiration for your next reading experience.
By signing up, you agree to our Privacy Policy.You can, at any time, unsubscribe from our newsletters.
