ipped round and round it in a merry
Christmas dance, and even Karen hopped about with her crutch.

The cook in her white apron, and the maids in their white caps, stood in
the doorway adding their chorus of "ohs!" and "ahs!" to the general
excitement; and then, after a little while, the whole family gathered
around the table while Herr Ekman gave out the presents.

It took a long time, as there were so many gifts for each one, and with
almost every gift there was a funny rhyme to be read aloud and laughed
over. But no one was in a hurry. They wondered and guessed; they peeped
into every package; they admired everything.

When the last of the gifts had been distributed, there was the dinner,
with the delicious lut-fisk, the roast goose, and the rice pudding. But
before it could be eaten, each one must first taste the dainties on the
smoergasbord,--a side-table set out with a collection of relishes.

There was a tiny lump in Karen's throat when she ate a bit of her
mother's cheese; but she swallowed them both bravely, and was as gay as
any one at the dinner table.

All the boys and girls in Sweden are sent to bed early on Christmas Eve.
They must be ready to get up the next morning, long before daylight, and
go to church with their parents to hear the Christmas service and sing
the Christmas carols. So nine o'clock found Karen and the twins gathering
up their gifts and saying good-night.

"Thanks, thanks for everything!" cried the two little girls, throwing
their arms around Fru Ekman's neck; and Karen added rather shyly,
"Thanks for such a happy Christmas, dearest Tant."

"But this is only Christmas Eve," Gerda told her, as they scampered off
to bed. "For two whole weeks there will be nothing but fun and merriment.
No school! No tasks! Nothing to do but make everyone joyous and happy
everywhere. Yule-tide is the best time of all the year!"

CHAPTER XIV

SPURS AND A CROWN

"Rida, rida, ranka!
The horse's name is Blanka.
Little rider, dear and sweet,
Now no spurs are on your feet;
When you've grown and won them,
Childhood's bliss is done then.

"Rida, rida, ranka!
The horse's name is Blanka.
Little one with eyes so blue,
A kingly crown will come to you,
A crown so bright and splendid!
Then youthful joy is ended."

Fru Ekman sang the words of the old Swedish lullaby as she had sung them
many times, years before, when the twins lay in their blue cradle at
Grandmother Ekman's farm in Dala