Miss Squirrel Minds Her Busy-ness
Miss
Squirrel darted along the snow-covered trail toward town,
clutching an armload of packages. Her tail frisked back
and forth in rhythm as she chanted, “Mail, buy, bake,
trim. Mail, buy, bake . . . Oh!”
Miss Squirrel bumped into Mr. Vole, and her packages flew into the air. “Excuse me,” said Mr. Vole.
Miss Squirrel did not say “Excuse me.” She was in a hurry.
Mr. Vole carefully picked up the packages. “Will you come caroling with us tonight?” he asked.
“I haven’t time,” Miss Squirrel chattered. “Today I must mail my packages, buy colored ribbon, bake Christmas cookies, and—oh dear, what else? Oh yes, trim my tree.”
“But it’s Christmas Eve. Won’t you rest from your busy-ness for a while?”
“I’ll rest when I’m not so busy,” Miss Squirrel said. Her tail was twitching to be off to the post office.
“If you change your mind, come to Auntie Marmot’s after supper and . . .”
Miss Squirrel couldn’t wait. She grabbed her packages from Mr. Vole and scurried off without a good-bye.
At the post office, Miss Squirrel did not hear Mr. Raccoon say, “Hello! Are you coming caroling with us tonight?” She pushed past him, muttering, “Mail, buy, bake, trim . . .”
At the variety store, Mrs. Ferret waited on Miss Squirrel. “Will you come to Auntie Marmot’s tonight?” she asked.
Miss Squirrel studied the display of colored ribbons. “No, I have projects to finish. Let’s see—I’ll take these ribbons. Now, what is next? Mail, buy, bake, trim.”
Miss Squirrel hurried home. That afternoon she baked and frosted dozens of cookies, still muttering, “Mail, buy, bake . . . oh dear. Mail, buy, bake, oh dear! I can’t remember what comes next!”
When night fell, the cookies were finished—and so was Miss Squirrel. Her nerves were frazzled. Worse yet, she couldn’t remember which project she had left undone. Wearily, she carried a plate of cookies into her parlor and built a cozy fire.
“I wish I hadn’t been so busy today,” thought Miss Squirrel. “I ignored my friends to finish my work, but my work is still not done.”
The
cheery fire warmed the parlor, but Miss Squirrel was too
tired to notice. She was too tired to taste her holiday
cookies. And when soft voices blended sweetly outside her
window, Miss Squirrel was too tired to hear them. She fell
asleep murmuring, “Mail . . . buy . . . bake . . .”
Knock! Knock! Miss Squirrel blinked and yawned. She opened the door. On the porch stood her friends. They held sheet music and warbled:
“O Christmas tree!
O Christmas tree!
How lovely are your branches!”
“Oh,” moaned Miss Squirrel. “My tree’s branches are not lovely. They’re bare. Now I know what I forgot. I forgot to trim my tree!”
Miss Squirrel’s friends stopped singing. They peeked inside and saw her tree, fat and green—and bare.
“We’ll help,” they said. “Isn’t that what good friends do?”
They took off their coats. They bustled here and there, hanging strings of lights and Christmas decorations. As they worked, they sang Christmas carols.
Miss Squirrel sang along and passed around her homemade cookies. She remembered to say “thank you” to her friends for taking time to decorate her tree and sing carols. Then she remembered that she had been too busy to be polite to anyone all day long, so she said, “I’m sorry.”
“That’s quite all right,” said Mr Vole kindly. “Won’t you come caroling with us now?”
“I’d love to!” said Miss Squirrel.
She couldn’t remember a better Christmas Eve. And to think she had almost been too busy to enjoy it!
