5. How Bessie Blithesome Came to the Laughing Valley

The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus

by L. Frank Baum

One day, as Claus sat before his door to enjoy the sunshine while
he busily carved the head and horns of a toy deer, he looked up and
discovered a glittering cavalcade of horsemen approaching through the
Valley.

When they drew nearer he saw that the band consisted of a score
of men-at-arms, clad in bright armor and bearing in their hands
spears and battle-axes. In front of these rode little Bessie
Blithesome, the pretty daughter of that proud Lord of Lerd who had
once driven Claus from his palace. Her palfrey was pure white, its
bridle was covered with glittering gems, and its saddle draped with
cloth of gold, richly broidered. The soldiers were sent to protect
her from harm while she journeyed.

Claus was surprised, but he continued to whittle and to sing
until the cavalcade drew up before him. Then the little girl leaned
over the neck of her palfrey and said:

"Please, Mr. Claus, I want a toy!"

Her voice was so pleading that Claus jumped up at once and stood
beside her. But he was puzzled how to answer her request.

"You are a rich lord's daughter," said he, "and have all that
you desire."

"Except toys," added Bessie. "There are no toys in all the
world but yours."

"And I make them for the poor children, who have nothing else to
amuse them," continued Claus.

"Do poor children love to play with toys more than rich ones?"
asked Bessie.

"I suppose not," said Claus, thoughtfully.

"Am I to blame because my father is a lord? Must I be denied
the pretty toys I long for because other children are poorer than I?"
she inquired earnestly.

"I'm afraid you must, dear," he answered; "for the poor have
nothing else with which to amuse themselves. You have your pony to
ride, your servants to wait on you, and every comfort that money can
procure."

"But I want toys!" cried Bessie, wiping away the tears that
forced themselves into her eyes. "If I can not have them, I shall be
very unhappy."

Claus was troubled, for her grief recalled to him the thought
that his desire was to make all children happy, without regard to
their condition in life. Yet, while so many poor children were
clamoring for his toys he could not bear to give one to them to
Bessie Blithesome, who had so much already to make her happy.

"Listen, my child," said he, gently; "all the toys I am now
making are promised to others. But the next shall be yours, since
your heart so longs for it. Come to me again in two days and it
shall be ready for you."

Bessie gave a cry of delight, and leaning over her pony's neck
she kissed Claus prettily upon his forehead. Then, calling to her
men-at-arms, she rode gaily away, leaving Claus to resume his
work.

"If I am to supply the rich children as well as the poor ones,"
he thought, "I shall not have a spare moment in the whole year! But
is it right I should give to the rich? Surely I must go to Necile
and talk with her about this matter."

So when he had finished the toy deer, which was very like a deer
he had known in the Forest glades, he walked into Burzee and made his
way to the bower of the beautiful Nymph Necile, who had been his
foster mother.

She greeted him tenderly and lovingly, listening with interest
to his story of the visit of Bessie Blithesome.

"And now tell me," said he, "shall I give toys to rich
children?"

"We of the Forest know nothing of riches," she replied. "It
seems to me that one child is like another child, since they are all
made of the same clay, and that riches are like a gown, which may be
put on or taken away, leaving the child unchanged. But the Fairies
are guardians of mankind, and know mortal children better than I.
Let us call the Fairy Queen."

This was done, and the Queen of the Fairies sat beside them and
heard Claus relate his reasons for thinking the rich children could
get along without his toys, and also what the Nymph had said.

"Necile is right," declared the Queen; "for, whether it be rich
or poor, a child's longings for pretty playthings are but natural.
Rich Bessie's heart may suffer as much grief as poor Mayrie's; she
can be just as lonely and discontented, and just as gay and happy. I
think, friend Claus, it is your duty to make all little ones glad,
whether they chance to live in palaces or in cottages."

"Your words are wise, fair Queen," replied Claus, "and my heart
tells me they are as just as they are wise. Hereafter all children
may claim my services."

Then he bowed before the gracious Fairy and, kissing Necile's
red lips, went back into his Valley.

At the brook he stopped to drink, and afterward he sat on the
bank and took a piece of moist clay in his hands while he thought
what sort of toy he should make for Bessie Blithesome. He did not
notice that his fingers were working the clay into shape until,
glancing downward, he found he had unconsciously formed a head that
bore a slight resemblance to the Nymph Necile!

At once he became interested. Gathering more of the clay from
the bank he carried it to his house. Then, with the aid of his knife
and a bit of wood he succeeded in working the clay into the image of
a toy nymph. With skillful strokes he formed long, waving hair on
the head and covered the body with a gown of oakleaves, while the two
feet sticking out at the bottom of the gown were clad in sandals.

But the clay was soft, and Claus found he must handle it gently
to avoid ruining his pretty work.

"Perhaps the rays of the sun will draw out the moisture and
cause the clay to become hard," he thought. So he laid the image on
a flat board and placed it in the glare of the sun.

This done, he went to his bench and began painting the toy deer,
and soon he became so interested in the work that he forgot all about
the clay nymph. But next morning, happening to notice it as it lay
on the board, he found the sun had baked it to the hardness of stone,
and it was strong enough to be safely handled.

Claus now painted the nymph with great care in the likeness of
Necile, giving it deep-blue eyes, white teeth, rosy lips and
ruddy-brown hair. The gown he colored oak-leaf green, and when the
paint was dry Claus himself was charmed with the new toy. Of course
it was not nearly so lovely as the real Necile; but, considering the
material of which it was made, Claus thought it was very
beautiful.

When Bessie, riding upon her white palfrey, came to his dwelling
next day, Claus presented her with the new toy. The little girl's
eyes were brighter than ever as she examined the pretty image, and
she loved it at once, and held it close to her breast, as a mother
does to her child.

"What is it called, Claus?" she asked.

Now Claus knew that Nymphs do not like to be spoken of by
mortals, so he could not tell Bessie it was an image of Necile he had
given her. But as it was a new toy he searched his mind for a new
name to call it by, and the first word he thought of he decided would
do very well.

"It is called a dolly, my dear," he said to Bessie.

"I shall call the dolly my baby," returned Bessie, kissing it
fondly; "and I shall tend it and care for it just as Nurse cares for
me. Thank you very much, Claus; your gift has made me happier than I
have ever been before!"

Then she rode away, hugging the toy in her arms, and Claus,
seeing her delight, thought he would make another dolly, better and
more natural than the first.

He brought more clay from the brook, and remembering that Bessie
had called the dolly her baby he resolved to form this one into a
baby's image. That was no difficult task to the clever workman, and
soon the baby dolly was lying on the board and placed in the sun to
dry. Then, with the clay that was left, he began to make an image of
Bessie Blithesome herself.

This was not so easy, for he found he could not make the silken
robe of the lord's daughter out of the common clay. So he called the
Fairies to his aid, and asked them to bring him colored silks with
which to make a real dress for the clay image. The Fairies set off
at once on their errand, and before nightfall they returned with a
generous supply of silks and laces and golden threads.

Claus now became impatient to complete his new dolly, and
instead of waiting for the next day's sun he placed the clay image
upon his hearth and covered it over with glowing coals. By morning,
when he drew the dolly from the ashes, it had baked as hard as if it
had lain a full day in the hot sun.

Now our Claus became a dressmaker as well as a toymaker. He cut
the lavender silk, and nearly sewed it into a beautiful gown that
just fitted the new dolly. And he put a lace collar around its neck
and pink silk shoes on its feet. The natural color of baked clay is
a light gray, but Claus painted the face to resemble the color of
flesh, and he gave the dolly Bessie's brown eyes and golden hair and
rosy cheeks.

It was really a beautiful thing to look upon, and sure to bring
joy to some childish heart. While Claus was admiring it he heard a
knock at his door, and little Mayrie entered. Her face was sad and
her eyes red with continued weeping.

"Why, what has grieved you, my dear?" asked Claus, taking the
child in his arms.

"I've--I've--bwoke my tat!" sobbed Mayrie.

"How?" he inquired, his eyes twinkling.

"I--I dwopped him, an' bwoke off him's tail; an'--an'--then I
dwopped him an' bwoke off him's ear! An'--an' now him's all
spoilt!"

Claus laughed.

"Never mind, Mayrie dear," he said. "How would you like this
new dolly, instead of a cat?"

Mayrie looked at the silk-robed dolly and her eyes grew big with
astonishment.

"Oh, Tlaus!" she cried, clapping her small hands together with
rapture; "tan I have 'at boo'ful lady?"

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"I love it!" said she. "It's better 'an tats!"

"Then take it, dear, and be careful not to break it."

Mayrie took the dolly with a joy that was almost reverent, and
her face dimpled with smiles as she started along the path toward
home.