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Yet surely Peter saw it enter, and that very easily. After the sled came a monkey-jack. Before he put it in Santa Klaus twitched the monkey, and made it turn summersaults over the stick, till he was nearly ready to fall down with laughing at it. A mask came next a leering mask with a long nose, and eyes, frightful enough to scare all the people in the court.
It felt itself slowly but surely slipping toward the hole in the toe, with the weight of all the other things on him. "Don't crowd so!" Peter heard the Sled say to the Tin Trumpet. "I'm not pushing," said the Tin Trumpet; "I'd give anything if I weren't sliding so toward that dreadful hole!" "Monkey-Jack, I'll thank you to keep that stick of yours out of my mouth."
One large Marble alone held them all back; it was wedged in by the Monkey-Jack, and the Monkey-Jack had its stick in the Tin Trumpet's mouth. But the Tin Trumpet had only caught by a single thread of the stocking; that gave way, and down came the Trumpet followed by the Monkey-Jack. The Trumpet rolled off toward the door like the rest, and the Monkey-Jack went head-over-heels after it.
Peter heard apple follow apple out of the hole in the heel, till the whole dozen were on the floor, where they still went rolling off after each other toward the staircase when they hopped thumpty-thump down the steps, till the last one had gone. Meanwhile the Sled, the Tin Trumpet and the Monkey-Jack were having a sad time in the foot of the stocking.
"Life!" roared the Baron, with a sudden outburst of thundering enthusiasm that startled the Baroness completely out of her composure. "I did have fun for my money vunce in London. Himmel, it is too hot to eat great dinners and to vear clothes like a monkey-jack." "Like a what?" gasped the Baroness.
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