"Where is your house?" asked Mun Bun.
"You come along and I'll show you. I found it all by myself."
She led Mun Bun by the hand out behind the big house and toward the
quarters. In a sheltered place, behind a hedge, was a little house, sure
enough. And it was not so very little after all, for when they went into
it they could both stand upright.
"There isn't any window," said Mun Bun. "This isn't a regular house."
"Of course, it's a house," Margy declared. "It's got a doorway, and----"
"It hasn't got any door, just the same," said Mun Bun, who might have
liked the house better if he had found it himself.
"We don't need a door. We want it open so the big folks can see our tree
when we get it trimmed."
"Where is the tree?" demanded the still doubtful little boy.
"Now, Mun Bun!" exclaimed Margy, "do you want to play at fixing this
Christmas tree, or don't you?"
"Oh, yes," said Mun Bun, who did not really want to be left out of any
fun, even if he did not think of it first himself. "Show me the tree,
Margy."
"Of course I will," said his sister. "You must help me get it and carry
it in here."
"Come on," urged the little boy. "Let's."
So then Margy showed him where the tree she had found stood in a green
tub outside the door of a small house that was almost all glass. The
lower panes of glass in this house were whitewashed, so the children
could not see what was in it; but this tree with its thick, glossy
leaves seemed to have been left out for anybody to take who wanted it.
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