and with these words the uncle pulled a large box out of each pocket.
"These are for the small people," he said, "but do not mix them up. In
one are stamping little horses, and in the other little steaming pots.
Which is for Mäzli?"

"The stamping horses," she said quickly.

"I don't think so. Take it now and look," said the uncle. When Lippo
had received his box also, the two ran over to their table, but Mäzli
suddenly paused half-way.

"Uncle Philip," she asked eagerly, "has mother gotten something, too,
something nice? Can I see it?"

"Yes, something very nice," the uncle answered, "but she has not gotten
it yet; one can't see it, but one can hear it."

"Oh, a piano," Mäzli guessed quickly.

"No, no, Mäzli; you might see as much as that," said the uncle. "You
couldn't possibly guess it. It can't come out till all the small birds
are tucked into their nests and everything is still and quiet."

Mäzli ran to her table at last and when she found a perfect array of
shining copper kettles, cooking pans and pots in her box she forgot
completely about the horses. She dug with growing astonishment into her
box, which seemed to be filled with ever new and more marvellous objects.
Lippo was standing up his beautifully saddled horses in front of him, but
the thing he liked best of all was a groom in a red jacket. He put him
first on one horse and then on all the others, for, to the boy's great