Dear Santa Claus, you don't mind my laughing at you, do you?, says Gertrude. Because you were funny, you know.
Well—no—I guess I don't mind much, Santa Claus answers. In fact, the more I think of it, the more I think myself that it was funny. Ho! Ho! Ho! Only so high (he measures the height with his hand) and as fat as butter. Ho! Ho! Ho!