There are many old, old stories about the dear Christ Child when he was little. Not all of them are true, but all are sweet and lovely; listen now, and you shall hear one.

It had been raining in Nazareth, and the ground, which had long been parched and dry, was turned to wet clay. This was a wonderful thing for the children, and they all ran to play with the clay, just as you boys and girls do now. Some dug canals and wells, some built houses and towers; while others took the soft clay in their hands and moulded it into shapes of men and animals. The little Jesus joined this last group, and while they made dogs and cats, horses and lions, he made little gray doves, and set them one by one on the edge of the fountain.

Presently sweet Mary the Mother came to the door and looked out, to see what the children were doing.

“See!” cried one little boy. “Mary Mother, see my dog! he can almost wag his tail and bark.”

“Look at my lion!” cried another. “He is so big and strong, he could eat up your dog in a minute.”

“Ho!” said a third. “My man here could whip your dog, and kill your lion with his sword, so he is the best of all.”

Mary Mother smiled, and praised the dog, the lion, and the man. Then she said, “And what has my little Jesus to show me?”

“I have made some little gray doves,” said Jesus. “See! here they are!”

“And what can they do, my little one?” asked sweet Mary, as she stroked the boy’s curly head.

“I think they can fly!” said little Jesus. “Fly, pretty doves!”

He clapped his hands, and up flew the doves like a soft gray cloud. Then fluttered round the child’s fair head, and lighted for a moment on his shoulders and his hands; then they spread their gray wings and flew up into the sky, and were seen no more.