ur, like the polar bears and the
seals.

On each side of the big shop, with its icy glass roof, were work
benches. At these benches sat the funny little men who made the toys.

Some were stuffing sawdust into dolls, others were putting the lids on
the boxes where the Jacks lived, and still others were trying the
Jumping Jacks to see that they jerked their legs and arms properly.

Up and down, between the rows of benches, walked Santa Claus himself.
Now and then some workman would call:

"Please look here, Santa Claus! Shall I make this Tin Soldier with a
sword or a gun?"

And St. Nicholas would answer:

"That Soldier needs a sword. He is going to be a Captain."

Then another little man would call, from the other side of the shop:

"Here is a Calico Clown who doesn't squeak when I press on his stomach.
Something must be wrong with him, Santa Claus."

Then Santa Claus would put on his glasses, stroke his long, white beard
and look at the Calico Clown.

"Humph! I should say he wouldn't squeak!" the old gentleman would
remark. "You have his squeaker in upside down! That would never do for
some little boy or girl to find on Christmas morning! Take the squeaker
out and put it in right."

"How careless of me!" the little workman would exclaim. And then Santa
Claus and the other workmen would laugh, for this workshop was the
jolliest place in the world, and the man would fix the Calico Clown
right.

"I'm glad I was born in this place," said the Nodding Donkey to himself,
as his head swayed to and fro. "This is really the first day of my life.
I wish night would come, so I could move about and talk to the other
toys. I wonder how long I shall have to wait?"

Not far from the doll's bureau, which held the looking glass, was a toy
house, and in it was a toy clock. The Donkey looked in through the
window of the toy house and saw the toy clock. The hands pointed to four
o'clock.

"The men stop work at five," thought the Donkey. "After that it will be
dark and I can move about--that is if my varnish is dry."

Santa Claus was walking up and down between the rows of work benches.
The dear old gentleman was pulling his beard and smiling.

"Come, my merry men!" he called in his jolly voice, "you must work a
little faster. It is nearly five, when it will be time to stop for the
day, and it is so near Christmas that I fear we shall never get enough
toys made. So hurry all you can!"

"We will, Santa Claus," the men ans