"This story," said Kate Douglas Wiggin, "could never have been written had I not as a child and girl been driven once a year to the Shaker meeting at the little village of Alfred, sixteen miles distant. The services were then open to the public. . . . I learned to know the brethren and sisters, and the Elder, as years went by, and often went to the main house to spend a day or two as the guest of Eldress Harriet, a saint, if ever there was one, or, later, with dear Sister Lucinda. . . .

"Needless to say, I read every word of the book to my Shaker friends before it was published. They...

Mrs. Bird thought, as the Christmas music floated in upon her gentle sleep, that she had slipped into heaven with her new baby, and that angels were bidding them welcome. But the tiny bundle by her side stirred a little, though it was scarcely more than the ruffling of a feather; and she awoke, drew the baby closer, and listened to the voices outside brimming with joy: -Carol, brothers, carol, Carol joyfully, Carol the good tidings, Carol merrily - -Why, my baby, - whispered Mrs. Bird in soft surprise, -I had forgotten what day it was. You are a little Christmas child, and we will name you...