And under the paper--well, almost everything lovely that you can think of.

Everything of reasonable size, I mean; for, of course, there were no motors or flying machines or thoroughbred chargers.

But there really was almost everything else.

Everything that the children had always wanted--toys and games and books, and chocolate and candied cherries and paint-boxes and photographic cameras, and all the presents they had always wanted to give to father and mother and the Lamb, only they had never had the money for them.

At the very bottom of the box was a tiny golden feather.