Windmills and wooden shoes by Maude M. Grant

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It is Christmas Eve. Jan and Katrina have taken off their wooden shoes. / They have scrubbed them white as snow, and they have set them down by / the fireplace.

"We must not forget the white horse," says Jan.

So, near by, they have placed a pretty red and yellow basket. In it are / some carrots, some hay, and some oats. They are for the white horse of / St. Nicholas.

Mother tucks the children in their funny Dutch beds in the wall.

They look very snug and warm. Their round cheeks are very red and their / eyes are very bright.

"I hope St. Nicholas will not leave me a switch, Mother," says Jan.

"O, I hope not," says Katrina. "You do not think he will, do you, / Mother?"

Mother smiles and shakes her head: "I cannot tell, my little ones," she / says. "Go to sleep now, and in the morning we shall see."

So Jan and Katrina turn their faces to the wall. They cuddle up in / their warm feather beds and go to sleep.

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