they did believe they should dream about that turkey; and when the papas kissed the grandmother good-night, they said, Well, they must have his mate for Christmas; and then they put their arms round the mammas and went out haw-hawing.
“I don't think they behaved very dignified,” said the little girl.
“Well, you see, they were just funning, and had got going, and it was Thanksgiving, anyway.”
Well, in about half an hour everybody was fast asleep and dreaming—
“Is it going to be a dream?” asked the little girl, with some reluctance.
“Didn't I say it was going to be a true story?”
“Yes.”
“How can it be a dream, then?”
“You said everybody was fast asleep and dreaming.”
“Well, but I hadn't got through. Everybody except one little girl.”
“Now, papa!”
“What?”
“Don't you go and say her name was the same as mine, and her eyes the same color.”
“What an idea!”
This was a very good little girl, and very respectful to her papa, and didn't suspect him of tricks, but just believed everything he said. And she was a very pretty little girl, and had red eyes, and blue cheeks, and straight hair, and a curly nose—
“Now, papa, if you get to cutting up—”
“Well, I won't, then!”
Well, she was rather a delicate little girl, and whenever she over-ate, or anything,
“Have bad dreams! Aha! I told you it was going to be a dream.”
“You wait till I get through.”
She was apt to lie awake thinking, and some of her thinks were pretty dismal. Well, that night, instead of thinking and tossing and turning, and counting a thousand, it seemed to this other little girl that she began to see things as soon as she had got warm in bed, and before, even. And the first thing she saw was a large, bronze-colored—
“Turkey gobbler!”
“No, ma'am. Turkey gobbler's ghost.”
“Foo!” said the little girl, rather uneasily; “whoever heard of a turkey's ghost, I should like to know?”
“Never mind, that,” said the papa. “If it hadn't been a ghost, could the moonlight have shone through it? No, indeed! The stuffing wouldn't have let it. So you see it must have been a ghost.”
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