Miss Mouse's Breakfast with Santa
I wrote this. I was feeling Christmasy.
Once, in a very small hole in a wall in a very
large kitchen, lived Miss Mouse. She was a very small mouse, with a
very small nose, and very small paws, and her very small hole was just the right size. She
loved her little hole, because it was right near the big, black
stove, where all the good things were baked, boiled, fried, and
steamed. Every day new delicious smells would come from that great
big stove, and every night the fire was banked up so that the coals
would smolder until the morning. On the cold winter nights, Miss
Mouse loved to curl up under the stove with her favorite shawl, and
feel that warm stove and smell the memories of the feasts it had
made.
On one particularly cold winter night,
when the wind blew around the corners and the eaves, making sad
sounds, Miss Mouse was curled under the stove when the big door to
the kitchen opened and a gust of wind came in. The door shut again,
and two feet came over in front of the stove. They were peculiar
feet, rather small, and covered in wooly green slippers. The slippers
stood on tip-toe and the little person took a big pot off the stove.
This pot was making heavenly smells, and Miss Mouse desperately
wanted to see what was inside it. It was such a big pot that you
couldn't see much of the person carrying it, except the feet. The
feet walked back to the door, and let in another gust of wind as they
went through. Miss Mouse hesitated, then pattered across the floor as
fast as possible to go out the door before it closed.
Outside, it was just beginning to get
light out, but Miss Mouse couldn't see the pot or the feet. The snow was deep on the ground, and the air was full of crystal flakes. It was very blustery, and the cold cut right through her little shawl. She
looked around and around, until she saw the foot marks in the snow.
She jumped in the first one. Blasts of wind tried to squish her or
pull her out of the little hole, but she kept on going, right into
the next three foot marks. When she jumped to the fifth mark, a big
white owl swooped down out of the darkness and tried to snatch her up. It grabbed with its big feathery
feet, but she burrowed into the snow, and waited. The owl hopped
around on the snow for a while, but the wind was fierce and the owl
was not hungry enough to hunt around in a heap of snow. Miss Mouse
was very cold now, soaked to to skin, and her little shawl was
drenched. She climbed out of the hole, and hopped to the next foot
mark, and then next, and the next. By now it was dawn, and the snow
glistened and sparkled as it swirled around. She saw the pot again
now, and the little person carrying it was just going through a door
into a big wooden house, with chimneys smoking everywhere. Miss Mouse
darted through the door at the last second, and it shut the cold and
the wind out behind her.
Now she saw that the feet had belonged
to a little man, who gave the pot to a little woman. The room was vaulted and spacious, but filled with little people like the man and woman. A wide wooden door, with knobs low down, was thrown open then, and a whole
crowd of little people then trooped into this other room. Miss Mouse
followed them and the big pot, and the great room she entered was so bright that she had
to look at the dimmest things first. There was a dark wooden table with benches on either side,
covered with a feast fit for a king. There was turkey, and ham, and
fried eggs, and heaps and heaps of bacon. There were jugs of milk,
and cream, and wine, and cider. There were platters of apples piled
high, heaps of oranges, fried mushrooms, piles of toast with pools of
creamy butter. At the end closest to Miss Mouse, there was a jolly
woman, taller by twice than the little people, laughing at their
antics as they closed around the table and filed into the seats. At
the far end of the table was an even fatter, jollier man, laughing
and waving for the little people to come and sit. But the biggest,
most dazzling thing in the room, was a tall fir tree, standing
upright behind where the big man sat. It was covered in glistening
orbs of glass, and delicate ornaments of gold and silver. Under the
tree were colorful packages covered in bright paper. At the top
glistened a great gold star, and all over the tree magical lights
floated, blazing white and yellow all around. It filled the hall
with blazing, cheerful light, and made Miss Mouse forget for a moment
how cold and tired she was.
Now all the little people were seated,
except the first little man she had seen and the little woman with
the pot. They ceremoniously gave the pot to the jolly woman, and as
they bowed the little man caught sight of Miss Mouse. “Hello! Who
have we here?” He exclaimed, “ I do believe it is Miss Mouse from
the kitchens!” Miss Mouse gave her best curtsy. The little woman
was very kind, and said, “Miss Mouse, would you like to join us
elves in a breakfast with Santa?” Miss Mouse was very glad to do
this, hanging her wet shawl by the fireplace and coming up to the
table. The little elf lady made a place for Miss Mouse on the table
(for even very polite mice may sit on tables to eat). Santa, that
great fat jolly man, bowed his head, and they all did the same. He
said grace, and then carved the turkey. Miss Mouse ate until she
could hold no more, and all the elves and Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus
had eaten their fill.
Now the table was cleared off, and
Mrs. Claus ceremoniously went to the blazing tree and gave Santa the
first present. Then everyone brought out their gifts, one by one
opening and exclaiming over them. Santa gave Mrs. Claus a beautiful
comb for her white hair, and she gave him a new pair of rabbit skin
gloves. The head elf gave his wife a neat little green coat with
beautiful designs on it, and Santa gave him a new sledge. Finally,
every present had been opened. Miss Mouse had enjoyed herself
immensely, and was just getting ready to slip away when Santa turned
to her and asked, “What do you desire for Christmas my dear?”
Miss Mouse paused. She knew exactly what it was that she wanted, but
it seemed to big a thing to ask. “Anything at all my dear.” She
decided. “What I most dearly want is a little kitchen of my own, in
my little hole, with its own warm stove to make delicious smells of
my own.” Santa looked very wise, and winked at the head elf. The
head elf winked back, and then helped Mrs. Claus to put the big good
smelling pot on the table. Then she opened up the lid and the
delicious smell filled the room. She started scooping out heaps of
popped corn, buttery and delicious. Miss Mouse ate three whole
pieces, before she was too full to hold another bite. Sighing with
happiness, she sat back for a moment, but now the party was breaking
up and it was time to go home.
She took her leave of Mr. and Mrs.
Claus, and the head elf and his wife, then she got her shawl and
scurried back to the door, over the fresh new still snow, and into
the kitchen. She looked at the big stove, and then her hole. The
stove was so warm and delightful that she couldn't resist going under
it to curl up, warm and cozy, for a snug nap after her delightful
breakfast. She slept and slept, and when she woke it was quite dark
outside. She pattered to her hole, but it was different. Instead of
chill and shadowy, her hole was light up with warm golden light, and
quite warm. She looked around, and there in the corner was a brand
new stove, with a little stove pipe and a little wood stack. In the
fire box was a little banked up fire, and on the warming box sat a
little note. “Merry Christmas Miss Mouse, and thank you for joining
us for breakfast -Santa Claus”
