The two-inch-plus panda peered out of the shadows under the sofa, his violet velvet brow furrowed in puzzlement. "I don't understand it," he muttered.

Chip, with Pan-Pan and Cubbie in his wake, edged out a moment after Ping-Ping. "Not so fast," Chip called in a low voice, one eye rolling up to check on the alarmingly tall thing Ping-Ping had referred to as "a tree." When Ping-Ping kept right on going, Chip stopped abruptly, courage fled. Pan-Pan and Cubbie thudded into his back, neither one watching where he was going. "Ooof!" said all three at once, sprawling in a heap of paws and fur.

Ping-Ping looked back, annoyed. "Come on you ninnies," he called, "nothing to be afraid of." He continued forward although he was looking back at the pile of bears stacked ignominiously behind him. "Buncha silly-billies!" he muttered under his breath, then he halted in shock. "YIKES!"

Scared out of his wits, yet too vain to admit it, Ping-Ping forced himself to look down at his feet. White stuff. Soft white stuff. He lifted his right foot and examined it, trying not to look as though he was at all curious or scared. "Wet," he said, "Wet and....and....c-c-c-cold!" He put his foot down and lifted the left one, same thing. "What IS this stuff?" he inquired of thin air.

The branches of the "tree" under which Ping-Ping was now standing rustled and a rather dry voice answered, "It's snow."

"Huh?" Ping-Ping asked, and looked from side to side and up and down, "Who said that?" His feet, which had been freezing, suddenly felt warm and nice. He gaped downward, not sure what was going on here. Maybe he had frostbite! No, he decided an instant later, they were decidedly warm, although coated in the white snow stuff.

Behind him, still tangled a heap, the other three bears watched events unfold with great interest. All three had decided that caution was the better part of valor in this situation. Cubbie, being the largest at 4 inches tall, was on the bottom of the pile. His white alpaca fur was very cushiony and warm. Pan-Pan and Chip agreed that a polar bear cub pillow was very nice indeed. Besides, Cubbie's furry bulk partially sheltered them from whatever lurked under the tree-thing where Ping-Ping stood ankle deep in some kind of fluffy white stuff.

Ping-Ping stared up into the branches over his head. "I see you up there!" he warned, face drawn into a fierce scowl. "I'm dangerous, you know."

Rustle, rustle, tinkle. The tree branch, spangled with some kind of shiny objects, shook once, then again and then Ping-Ping saw a most wondrous sight: a being - no! a little fat round man - all dressed in red velvet trimmed with white fur. He was on the very branch right over Ping-Ping's head. The little man, cherry red cheeks round and merry, smiled down at the bemused purple and white panda. "That's a nice ruff," he said.

Ping-Ping grasped his gold ruffled collar protectively, "Mine!" he announced, then, remembering his manners since it seemed as though he ought to use them when speaking to this tiny person, he said more graciously, "Thanks."

"You're quite welcome," came the mellow reply. Then the red velvet clad man slid down the branch until he and Ping-Ping were eye to eye. "The white stuff is snow," he repeated.

"Snow," Ping-Ping echoed, and then nodded knowingly. "I knew that," he said, then, "What IS snow, exactly?" He moved two steps closer to the odd person. "And who are you?" His feet still felt warm and comfy. It was very puzzling.

Still in their heap, the other three bears looked on in fascination. "It's a fairy!" Chip guessed, and was roundly shushed by the other two lest the tiny person turn out to be an ogre in disguise. "Well, it could be a fairy," Chip mumbled in an aggrieved tone of voice, then, "Ow!" Pan-Pan thumped Chip once more for insurance, then returned to his study of Ping-Ping, the tree thing and the small person.

"Snow," the fairy or elf or whatever-he-was explained to Ping-Ping, "Snow is a frozen delight. A concoction of ice and air and dreams, you see. Especially when it's under a tree like this one; then it has special properties."

Ping-Ping examined the tree. He looked up and saw hundreds of branches all sparkling with tiny lights and decorated with shining orbs of color and little dolls and tiny deer with large antlers. "Reindeer," the red-clad man said, noting where Ping-Ping was looking. "One of my specialties," he added modestly.

Ping-Ping's gaze returned to the little person. "Oh?" he said, not totally sure what a reindeer was. "Are they good to eat?"

"Eat?" the chubby man exclaimed before laughing until his tummy shook. "Why, bless me, no, I don't eat them Young Bear, I fly them."

"You do not!" Ping-Ping answered him back, knowing when he was being scammed. There were eight of the reindeer, he saw, one with a red nose that blinked on and off like a light bulb.

The stranger rose to his feet and ran along a branch to where a golden sleigh was parked, its curved runners gleaming in the reflection from the colored lights on the tree. "Yes," the man said, climbing into the sleigh and shaking the red leather reins until their bells jangled. "Now," the little man commanded, and all the deer lined up in front of the sleigh as their harnesses magically linked together. "Now you'll see, Young Bear!" he said with a laugh, and chirped at the reindeer.

Swoosh! The deer leaped into the air all at once and the sleigh followed them, its red-clothed occupant shouting and chortling as the sleigh looped-the-loop over Ping-Ping's head.

"Yes, they DO fly!" the man called down to the purple and white panda, "Merry Christmas, Young Bear! And to all your friends over there...Merry Christmas!"

The sleigh circled around and around the tree, higher and higher and higher until it was lost in the blinking dazzle of hundreds of colored lights.

Ping-Ping, not sure if he'd just been bamboozled or if he'd really met someone very important, stood looking upwards for a long time. A touch on his shoulder made him jump, but it was only Chip.

"Please...who was that little fat man?" Chip asked, echoed by Pan-Pan and Cubbie. "He looked sort of important."

Ping-Ping's feet were cold again, which they hadn't been while the tiny man had been talking to him. "I think," he explained to his friends, "that he is some sort of pilot."

"Pilot!?" the other three chorused as one. "Naaaaaaah," Cubbie finally said. "I think you just met Santy."

"I did not!" Ping-Ping argued, trudging through the knee-deep white wet stuff the little man had called "snow." After all, he reasoned, Santy was an IMPORTANT PERSON not a teensy little fat man with a sleigh pulled by funny deer. Santy would have an aura, whatever an aura was. He wasn't sure. His papa had mentioned that term once in connection with someone famous.

"He didn't have an aura," he said aloud, when the group had almost reached the edge of the sofa and its sheltering bulk.

Cubbie giggled, "An aura! Santy doesn't need an aura, he's got reindeer!" Pan-Pan and Chip nodded, though they weren't totally sure they agreed, it was fun just to have something up on Ping-Ping for once.

From the top of the tree behind them came the echoing call, "Merry Christmas, Young Bears! Merry Christmas to you all!!" There was a tinkle and a swish, then the tiny sleigh flew out the transom of the nearest window and disappeared into the night sky.

"It was TOO Santy!!" Cubbie and Pan-Pan and Chip told Ping-Ping.

Ping-Ping was never sure WHO the little man had been, but somehow he found a stocking with his name on it hanging on the mantel that night and when he touched it, some of that magical snow that wasn't cold on his feet sprinkled down from it. Santy or not, Ping-Ping decided, it was best to wear warm socks when exploring under large trees.