"Yellow and green surrounded him. Lavender and gold glistened on the snow. The white world had vanished and there was color all about him."

To Mousekin, it was a strange sight to come upon on a wintry night. It was Christmas Eve, though, and the tree lights shimmered on the white snow. The little whitefoot mouse looked up. Nearby he saw a great house ablaze with light. He hurried toward it and huddled by a window ledge.

What Mousekin saw that evening—the lovely tree, the quiet crêche—reflects all the warmth and peace that any traveler feels in being snug at Christmas.

From the dust jacket