Twas the thread before Christmas, when all through the forum Not a member was stirring, not even a Forsaken. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that Ienzo soon would be there. The members were nestled all snug in their threds, While visions of plums danced in their heads. And Misty in her ‘kerchief, and Okabe in his cap, Had just settled their brains for a long winter’s nap. When out on the forum there arose such a clatter, Jayn sprang from the thread to see what was the matter. Away to the window she flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature What?, and twelve tiny staff members.
