The Wee Folk who came to Christmas Lunch

The wee folk were there on Christmas day seated in their little chair. I thought they might like a bite or two, but they rudely refused to eat anything.

When I asked why they wouldn’t eat, old Button-Nose cleared his throat. “Firstly,” he said, “my mouth won’t open any way who ate the last mince pie?”

Everyone looked at Blue-Hat Pip, whose cheeks were still dusted with sugar.

“I was holding it,” Pip said. “For safekeeping.”

Sir Frizzlehair gasped. “You licked your fingers.”

Captain Goldboots adjusted his glittering hat. “Let’s not spoil Christmas with accusations.” One gold shoe promptly fell off.

Then they heard it. Footsteps.

“Everyone look festive,” Pip whispered.

They froze, smiling bravely as the Big Person with the bald head appeared and took a photograph.

Click.

Once the footsteps faded, Old Button-Nose sighed. “Right. That’s this year’s photo done.”

Pip grinned. “Do you think they know we move when they’re not looking?”

Captain Goldboots shook his head. “If they did, we’d be washing dishes.”

They all shuddered.