Skeezucks, and what was worthy to be tied upon the tree.

That each and every individual thus laboring to produce his offering
should be eager to excel his neighbor, and to win the greatest
appreciation from the all-unknowing little pilgrim for his own
particular toy or trinket, was a natural outcome of the Christmas
spirit actuating the manoeuvres. And all the things they could give
would have to be made, since there was not a shop in a radius of a
hundred miles where baubles for youngsters could be purchased, while
Borealis, having never had a baby boy before in all its sudden annals
of being, had neglected all provision for the advent of tiny Skeezucks.

The carpenter came to the cabin first, with a barley-sack filled with
the blocks he had made for the small foundling's Christmas ecstasy.
Before he would show them, however, Keno was obliged to leave the house
and the tiny pilgrim himself was placed in a bunk from which he could
not see.

"I want to surprise him," explained the carpenter.

He then dumped out his blocks.

As lumber was a luxury in Borealis, he had been obliged to make what
shift he could. In consequence of this the blocks were of several
sizes, a number were constructed of several pieces of board nailed
together--and split in the process--no two were shaped alike, except
for generalities, and no one was straight. However, they were larger
than a man's two fists, they were gaudily painted, and the alphabet was
sprinkled upon them with prodigal generosity. There were even
hieroglyphics upon them, which the carpenter described as birds and