woman, so wrapped up in warm clothes that you could scarcely see her pleasant, wrinkled face. A black shawl was tied over her head, and a second dark woolen shawl was crossed over her breast and tied behind. Her petticoats were so heavily wadded that you wondered how she ever walked at all.

"Doesn't she look funny, mother?" whispered Sigrid, who was clinging to her mother's hand.

"Speak low, child," said Mrs. Lund. "I would not have you hurt the old creature's feelings. It is bitter cold standing here all day. She needs all her warm clothes. As long ago as when I was a child, she came here to sell these garments that she knits and crochets all summer.

"I think that must be King Oscar's sleigh which has just come up the hill," said Sigrid as they turned away from Brita's booth.

"Sure enough. He is making his annual visit to the Christmas market. Let us stand here and watch him for a minute."

Just then the big Christmas crowd burst into a shout: "Long live King Oscar!" The white-haired old gentleman, who is so tall and stately that you would notice him anywhere, bowed graciously to his people.

"Would he ask me what I wanted for Christmas, if I stood near him?" asked Sigrid.

"No, he asks only the poor little children who don't look as though they would have a tree at home," replied Mrs. Lund. "Ah, he is talking to that ragged little fellow who watched us buy the accordion for Karl. By and by, his servant will buy a lot of things and give them to the children. He is a kind-hearted man as well as a good king."

"Hear all those birds singing!" exclaimed the child.

"Listen again and see if you cannot tell where they are," said Mrs. Lund.

"Why, I believe they are cuckoo whistles, only I never heard so many all at once," cried Sigrid.

"Suppose we go over and buy two or three," said Mrs. Lund. They threaded their way to the booth where these cheap little clay birds were so popular.

The buxom maid was loaded with bundles long before Sigrid wanted to go home.

For the next two days, there was a great stir all over the house. Everything that could be washed and scoured was made clean and radiant. All the family were making presents. Oh, such mystery everywhere!

"There, Miss Eklund," said Sigrid. "I have finished the cozy. Now I want some more red sealing-wax. I have helped Anders wrap up his presents, and mine are almost ready."

"Have you fastened on your rhymes?" asked Miss Eklund.

"All except the one for Aunt Frederika's present. I cannot seem to think of a verse for her," was the reply.

"You must be sure and have a pretty verse for your dear aunt, who has come way from Göteborg. Perhaps I can help you later."

Miss Eklund left her little charge labouring with pencil and paper. Sigrid would never think her Christmas gifts complete without a verse for each one.

"Here come father and Erik with the tree," shouted Anders.

"Isn't this a beauty?" inquired Erik, as he and his father rested for a minute.

"Did you get it in the Christmas market, father? Mother and I saw a whole forest of little Christmas trees there," said Sigrid.

"Yes," replied Major Lund. "I wanted to take you children out in the country and cut it down myself. Sometime, when we have Christmas at grandmother's, that's what we will do. Then you all shall help choose the tree before I cut it.

"No one must go into the parlour now," he continued, as he carried the tree through the doorway. "Mind you, not one peep till to-morrow night." He shook his finger playfully at the children.

"I always like 'Dipping Day,'" said Sigrid, the day before Christmas, to her brother Erik. "It is such fun to eat in the kitchen."

She was waiting for her turn to dip the piece of black bread on her plate, into the kettle of sizzling hot fat. All the family, the relatives who had come to spend the holidays and the servants, stood about in the clean kitchen, eating the noonday meal. The walls fairly gleamed with copper and brass pans and kettles. Even the brick oven had a fresh coat of whitewash, in honour of the day. Every other little Swedish girl over the land was eating her dinner in the kitchen on that day, just as Sigrid was doing.

In the centre of the room, a long table was loaded with good things to eat. And here was the big kettle in which the Christmas ham and other meats had been cooked.

Later in the afternoon, when the children returned from a brisk walk in the park, they gathered in the nursery for afternoon coffee. How Sigrid loved this coffee-drinking on Christmas Eve! All the grown-up people in Sweden drink a great deal of coffee. But Sigrid was seldom allowed to have it except on a few holidays.

The children could hear the pleasant chatter of the older people, whose coffee was served in the parlour. But they knew what was waiting for them in the nursery.

On the little table there, a plate was prepared for each child with a pyramid of different kinds of bread. Some of these rolls were in such odd shapes that I am sure you would not call them bread at all. There was black bread, white bread, saffron-coloured bread, some shaped like little men and others like pigs and goats. Of course there were gingerbread men, and even chocolate bread figures.

Each little mound had candy and nuts tucked away in the corners. The kind of candy which Sigrid liked best was done up in a small package with bright paper. Pictures and mottoes were pasted on the outside.