weighed at least two hundred pounds before pillows and was as graceful as a feather in a breeze. Oh, you should have seen the utterly elegant way it picked the white hairs from its teeth: all little fingers. And as unconcerned at all the shocked attention as if the seedy old costume were a Dior creation. Naturally it got around fast but Slaussey was so busy he was the last to find out. When some of the other department heads began twitting him, he didn't know what they were talking about. One said, "A simply lovely Fairyland this year, Slaussen! I just can't wait to see what Santa's bringing me!" And another: "Hey, Slaws, I knew Santa had gnomes working for him but I didn't know he was a brownie himself. But it's sure pulling in the crowds. Oh, you're a sly one, old boy!" The sly one said, "Why-uh-yes! Biggest crowds we ever had! Great promotion, eh?" then hurried back to his department to see exactly what was causing all this record breaking. When he got to Fairyland, he stopped and just stood there staring.

Santa-sitting before whole fields of parents and progeny-wasn't just doing a dollar an hour job to draw unemployment compensation after New Years. That one was nothing less than holding court. It had dozens of tiny lavender bows in the white beard, brilliant sequins sewed all over the costume, gilt sprinkled in the wig and eyebrows, and the biggest pinkie ring ever to be borrowed from Accessories. Those full lips were "Carmen's Kiss! The Latest Red Menace!" and the immense checks simply burned with rouge. There was carefully applied eyeshadow and, believe it or not, a diamond beauty mark. Somehow, and you won't believe this either, the whole effect was just right. It was fanciful and luxurious and a bit regaland somehow more fun than any Santa in town.

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On top of this, our very own Santa was simply doting on the kids. While Slaussey watched in horror, Old Man Christmas picked up a child, established it on one fat knee and exclaimed," What a precious little precious! I just love you, really and truly I do! Just look at these brown eyes, so big and deep! Madam, you're simply too lucky. None of us adults deserve little miracles like this, do we? No, dear, don't pull my beard. I'm not sure it's real. Now, what do you want this poor old beat-up Santa to bring you this year? Go easy now: money doesn't grow on trees." For once, the children weren't scared. They howled in delight at a deity that could make fun of itself and they had to be torn away from him. Our mad, mad Christmas spirit was a howling success. Sales soared.

So did Slaussey. He plowed forward, laid big hands on Santa and actually dragged him out to the stock room. Everyone on that floor heard him roaring dozens of unpleasant opinions on the subject of unnatural selection all of which ended with, "And don't show your face back here EVER!" Santa, decostumed but still in make-up, flounced out locking like offended royalty, got a safe distance and called back, "You simply disgust me! Boor!" Slaussey roared and started after him; they did a thrilling chase scene on the Up escalator in which both ran like mad but neither moved an inch. Bets were made and a cheering section. formed spontaneously in the big crowd. Then all at once Santa turned and screamed, "I'm going to faint! Catch me!" Slaussen saw the descending two hundred pounds and decided all this was beneath his dignity. He ran and didn't stop until he was again facing Miss Pickins. The things he said can only be sung to Mademoiselle From Armentiers-softly.

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