One year Santa Claus was so busy that he sent a note to the mothers and fathers of a certain town, letting them know he would have to leave some of his presents early — he was simply too rushed. He promised he would still stop on Christmas Eve itself to fill the stockings and trim the trees, just as always.
In one house in that town lived a little boy named Teddy. His father told him that Santa had left some presents ahead of time, but that Santa had asked — very particularly — that Teddy not look in any of the closets. He was being put on his honour. If he peeked, Santa had said, the presents would be taken away.
Teddy had asked for a horse and cart more than anything else in the world.
For several days he managed. He walked past the closets. He didn’t touch the doors. But one afternoon when everyone was out, he could bear it no longer. He opened the closets one by one. In the very last one, he found what he had been hoping for.
The horse was beautiful — with a mane and tail of real hair, and a cart painted bright red. Teddy stared at it for a long moment, then gently closed the closet door and went back to his playroom. He told himself no one had seen.
The next day he thought he would take just one more look.
The closet was empty. Not a trace of the horse or cart anywhere in the house.
He cried himself to sleep that night — ashamed, more than anything, of what he had done.
The next morning he decided to write to Santa Claus:
Dear Santa Claus — I know I was a naughty boy and looked when I was told not to. Please forgive me and give me back the horse and cart and I will never be a bad boy again.
He put the letter up the chimney. The very next morning, a reply came back:
Dear Teddy — I am sure you are sorry, and I am certain you will never do such a thing again. So on Christmas morning, when you get up, you will find the horse and cart waiting for you. Your old friend, Santa Claus.
