The next morning “the three wise men” had a long chat with Santa Claus, and it was decided they were to come there to live. But Santa Claus explained to Snythergen kindly that as he had feared, it was against the laws of the Wreath to bring any more grownups there; and that he would be unable to include his parents in the invitation.

Snythergen looked so sorrowful when he heard this that Santa Claus said brightly:

“Cheer up! Stay for a while, and I will see if it cannot be arranged somehow.”

Snythergen’s interest in the wonderful things he saw soon revived his spirits—though the thought of his mother and father was seldom far away.

When Santa Claus explained to the housekeeper that the family would be enlarged by three new members, she looked rather doubtful.

“Are you sure, Santa Claus,” she asked, “that it is wise to add them all at once, before you know more about them?”

“Yes, I am sure,” he said, “and I know they will be handy in the toy factory.”

And so it proved. For a time the newcomers made themselves so useful, even the housekeeper wondered how they had ever managed without them. Sancho Wing devised all sorts of new toys. Squeaky made a model of a Teddy Pig so cunning and lifelike, it bid fair to vie in popularity with the famous Teddy Bear. When you squeezed it it squeaked so naturally, that you had to look twice to be sure you were not holding a live pig in your hands. Snythergen designed a mechanical tree that walked on its roots and waved its branches in the most comical manner.

For a month Snythergen was happy. He seemed almost to have forgotten his “big trouble.” But as the novelty of his new life wore away, he found his thoughts returning more and more often to his mother and father. One day Santa Claus said to him:

“Snythergen, you are not happy and the reason is not hard to guess. No boy can be happy long away from his parents. The housekeeper and I have been talking it over and we can find no way of getting grownups admitted to the Wreath. So I have decided to give you your choice. Either you may stay here and live with us, or I will reduce you to the size of an ordinary boy and let you go home.”

“Can you make me small like other boys!” cried Snythergen excitedly.

“Yes,” said Santa Claus, “I can do it by feeding you toy foods! I can have my cooks and my bakers make such tiny cakes and pies, that if you eat them one at a time, you will grow smaller and smaller. It will not be easy and you may have to go hungry at times, but in the end you will be just the right size. You can play with the other boys and no one will laugh at you. Then you may return to your father and mother!”

“And not see you, and Squeaky, and Sancho Wing any more!” faltered Snythergen.

“You may come and visit us at night after your mother has tucked you in your bed—just as you used to steal away from the forest to go home.”

Snythergen still hesitated.

“You will be very happy,” said Santa Claus. “You will grow up to be a man, and all your life you will be happier for having visited Santa Claus’ land on the Wreath.”

Snythergen made the choice that Santa Claus knew he would, the one that any boy would have made. There was a great deal of bustle in all of the kitchens and bakeries on the Wreath, as they made toy foods for Snythergen. There were wonderful loaves of bread shaped like the little tree doctor, which Snythergen wanted to devour by the handful, but was permitted to eat only one at each meal. There were cookies molded in the form of the woodchoppers’ axes, cakes and pies resembling the nest that had once tickled his long green boughs.

Little by little Snythergen un-grew until he became the size of a boy. At last the day of his departure arrived and his friends were gathered before Santa Claus’ door to bid him farewell. The doorkeeper and the housekeeper said good-by with feeling. When he came to Blasterjinx the big fellow bent over, placed one hand on the ground, palm up for Snythergen to stand on, then lifted him up to say good-by. Snythergen felt a keen pang of regret when the sight of his friend made him realize that his own great size was gone. But this feeling was soon forgotten in an affectionate farewell to the faithful chums, with whom he had shared so many joys and dangers. He took Squeaky into his arms and squeezed him almost as tightly as the farmer’s wife had done. Sancho Wing perched on his shoulder and tried to say good-by in as loud a voice as when first he had spoken to Snythergen, but somehow the words caught in his throat. As Snythergen said his last farewell to all, even the bear’s eyes filled with tears (he had just had his olives and custard pie).

“We shall expect you to visit us very soon,” said Santa Claus as they parted.

How they all waved and cheered as Snythergen rose in his boy’s airplane and began the journey home! Turning his head he watched them until they dwindled to mere specks and disappeared.