 Hello everybody, this is Tim again. I'm glad you've come down to hear about the trip I took on Mirai Holiday, brought you probably the clown, sleepy slim the lion, and jumped on from Holiday House to the North Pole to see what happened to Santa Claus. Did that swishing sound? That's the noise of the wishing star as it went shooting off to the North Pole, hurrying us to see Santa Claus. It was like having all your dreams come true. This was really fun. I think of having a chance to have adventures with an elf three inches tall. Jump jump is never still a minute, jumping up and down all over the silver cabin inside the storm. On the way to visit Santa Claus himself, I'd be able to ask him himself not to forget to come to the orphanage on Christmas Eve. I'll be right back in a minute to tell you just what happened. She pogged the clowns in the tip of the wishing star, and its course in Mirai Holiday was knitting a tiny red sweater on two matchsticks for jump jump. Sleepy slim the lion, they snoring on the floor as usual, and the poet sat gazing out into the sky. Every now and then he'd write something on the wall beside him, even though he had three notebooks in his lap, a pencil behind each ear, and three more sticking in his hair. He was sighing every now and then as if something hurt him. Because he sighed him? Oh, yes. It's just his way of getting ideas for a poem. He says that he's got to catch the words that rhyme out of the air like birds. Do words have wings? Do words have wings? Oh, no, jump jump. It's just a poetic way of saying finding words. And the words get lost. Oh, the words didn't get lost. Jump jump. That's just an expression. Yes, the poet looks for the right word to make his poem say the thought that he wishes it to say. See? Wah! Oh, still a minute. Will you please jump jump? And let me see if your sweater is going to be the right size. He jumps all the time, doesn't he? Oh, yes. I wonder his name is Jump Jump. How long do you think it will take to get to the North Pole? Well, that depends, Tim. To drive the wishing star Archie Pogli has to concentrate on wishing. That's what makes the wishing star go through the sky. If he has very strong wishes, the star goes fast. But if he can't think of much to wish about, then it might take us quite a while to reach the North Pole. But we all wish we were there now, jump jump. Poor sleepy slim even caught onto the star's tail and had to be hauled up by Archie Pogli the clown. He was so anxious to see Santa Claus. You see, Tim, Santa has promised to make a doll for everyone at Holiday House. And the doll will look just the way we do. There'll be one for sleepy slim, the lion. And one for Archie Pogli the clown. And, of course, one for jump jump, the elf. We can hardly wait to see them. You ought to see them, too. Jump jump jump. Don't lean over the edge of the star that way. Oh. I wonder if sleepy slim is dreaming, Mary Howard. Oh, sleepy slim. I think he has all sorts of dreams, Tim. Sleepy slim says that's why he has to sleep so much, to rest from dreaming. I think so much sleep would make him tired all over again. I think so, too, Tim. Oh. I'd like a rhyme to go with time. A rhyme to go with time? Well, how about dime, poet? There's no such word as quime. Yes, quime is new. Yes, that will do. It's got a touch that will add much. It puts a tingle in my jingle. Have you finished your rhymes, now, poet? Will you read them to us, please? I've made a few. And since it's you, Miss Mary dear, I'll read one here. It's about Christmas. Not Christmas yet, but soon you bet I'll rhyme of toys and girls and boys to laugh and play on Christmas day. This poem's a tune about the moon. Oh, that sounds nice, poet. And jump, jump, jump, jump, stop jumping. Sit still and listen. Do you believe the moon is cheese? Some people think I know. Have they been there to take a bite? Supposing that it's so. Why don't they dig a moon cheese mine? And open up a store to sell it by the pound or slice? There'd always be tons more. I think it would be a great success, don't you? I wonder why somebody hasn't thought of it. And I'll take mine on rhyme. Oh, poet. That's wonderful, poet. Yes, that's wonderful. How do you think of all those rhymes? You have to be quime to find a rhyme. Oh, poet. Oh, now jump, jump. See what you've started with your quime. Jump, jump. Jump, jump. Oh, where is he now? Where did he jump to? I didn't hear him jump, Mary Holiday. Look in your pocket, Tim. He may be hiding there. No. It's not in my pocket, Mary Holiday. I've got a verse. It's not my verse. Just one hour old and scarcely cold. Excuse me, poet. First I must find jump, jump. Tim. Yes? Please help me look for him. Yeah. Jump, jump. Will you pick up that cushion, please? Yes. Not there? No, it's not here, Mary Holiday. Look in the basket if you don't mind. No, not here. Jump, jump. Jump, jump. Jump, jump. Stars are very shining. Stars are very bright. But it makes me unhappy when they shine just at night. I think it would be lovely if they twinkled all day through. They'd look like silver daisies sprinkled in the blue. Oh. Oh, look. There's jump, jump, Mary Holiday. Where, Tim? He's walking tiptoe on one of the points of the wishing star. Oh. Oh, the wind will blow him off. Oh, I'll call out and try to get him. Oh, no, wait, Tim. Wait. The wind will blow you off, too. No, I'll ask Auntie Pogli to stop wishing for a minute and then we'll slow down and I'll be able to reach Jop Jop myself. Oh, Auntie Pogli. Auntie Pogli. A trip like this can hardly miss to fill with glee a poet like me. Oh, poet. Can't you wait a few minutes till we can jump, jump back safely? I'd rather ride upon a star than take a trip by kiddie car and airplane speed is really pale compared to a comet's tail. Auntie Pogli's slowing down. Jop, jump. Oh, jump, jump. Watch. Oh, jump, jump. Oh, Tim, he's jumping up and down. No, jump, jump. No, don't jump, jump, jump. Oh, my. Jop, jump. Come here to the window. And do stop jumping. You'll tumble over, star. He's talking. He'll talk again. He's excited, I guess. Find him in the sky. It's so big. Yes, I can see him now. Oh, I'll not let him out of my reach again until we land at the North Pole. Oh, Auntie Pogli saw him. Auntie Pogli's turning the star around already. And we're gliding down toward that cloud. That's it. Yes, you've got him, Tim. I can see him wiggling inside the bag. Jop, jump. Am I glad to get you in my hand again? Oh, you. You elf, you. Oh, jump, jump. You're all wet from that misty cloud. Wow. You certainly did fall off. I'm going to put this yarn around your waist like a harness, jump, jump, and hold it tightly so that you won't go tumbling over a star anymore. Jop, jump. You know the moon isn't made of cheese. You're just trying to find an excuse. And since you sneezed, I'm going to give you some hot lemonade as soon as we arrive at Santa Claus' house. You mustn't take cold. If I lived in the sky in a castle in the air, I'd help hang out star lanterns and build the sunbeam's hair. I'd have a nice cloud dragon to guard the castle door. And a fence made out of lightning. Now who could ask for more? The sun would be my heater, the moon my lamp that's plain. On birthdays and on picnics, I'd never let it rain. I'd put my money in a cloud bank. How safe it would be there if I lived in a castle away up in the air. The port when I'm making poems Sleepy Slim went on sleeping and Merry Holiday went on knitting. Chump Chump was pretty good after that and sat telling me what he wanted for Christmas and slowly too. Why, he even taught me to sing his song with him. He's a little elf. Yes, only.