chimney he whipped, a present in his hand,—what, the Cat couldn't see.
"Coming back, 'Now about yourself?' he asked, gathering up the reins. 'What keeps you on the cold roof all night? Something must be done, you know: matters can't be left this way. Wish a wish, if you have one. I'm in a humor for pleasing everybody while I'm about it.'
"So the Cat told her story. 'And for a wish,' she said, 'if your Saintship would only permit me to slip in under your furs, and go along, I should be proud and happy. They look very warm and comfortable. I should sleep; or, if not, it would be most interesting to watch your Worship at work. And I take very little room,' she added piteously.
"'Is that all? Why, jump in at once,' said kind St. Nicholas: 'there is room for forty cats like you. My sledge is never full. Ho! ho! it would be a pretty joke if it were!' And he laughed a jolly laugh.
"So Pussy jumped in. 'You must let me out
