THE TWELVE THANK YOU NOTES OF CHRISTMAS

Dec 25

My dearest darling Edward,
What a wonderful surprise has just greeted me! That sweet partridge, in
that lovely little pear-tree; what an enchanting, romantic, poetic present!
Bless you, and thank you.
Your deeply loving
Emily.

Dec 26

Beloved Edward,
The two turtle-doves arrived this morning, and are cooing away in the
pear-tree as I write. I'm so touched and grateful!
With undying love, as always,
Emily.

Dec 27

My darling Edward,
You do think of the most original presents! Who ever thought of sending
anybody three French hens? Do they really come all the way from France?
It's a pity we have no chicken coops, but I expect we'll find some. Anyway,
thank you so much; they're lovely.
Your devoted Emily.

Dec 28

Dearest Edward,
What a surprise! Four calling birds arrived this morning. They are very
sweet, even if they do call rather loudly - they make telephoning almost
impossible - but I expect they'll calm down when they get used to their new
home. Anyway, I'm very grateful, of course I am.
Love from Emily.

Dec 29

Dearest Edward,
The mailman has just delivered five most beautiful gold rings, one for each
finger, and all fitting perfectly! A really lovely present! Lovelier, in a
way, than birds, which do take rather a lot of looking after. The four that
arrived yesterday are still making a terrible row, and I'm afraid none of
us got much sleep last night. Mother says she wants to use the rings to
"wring" their necks. Mother has such a sense of humor. This time she's only
joking, I think, but I do know what she means. Still, I love the rings.
Bless you,
Emily.

Dec 30

Dear Edward,
Whatever I expected to find when I opened the front door this morning, it
certainly wasn't six socking great geese laying eggs all over the porch.
Frankly, I rather hoped that you had stopped sending me birds. We have no
room for them, and they've already ruined the croquet lawn. I know you
meant well, but let's call a halt, shall we?
Love,
Emily.

Dec 31

Edward,
I thought I said NO MORE BIRDS. This morning I woke up to find no more than
seven swans, all trying to get into our tiny goldfish pond. I'd rather not
think what's happened to the goldfish. The whole house seems to be full of
birds, to say nothing of what they leave behind them, so please, please,
stop!
Your Emily.

Jan 1

Frankly, I prefer the birds. What am I to do with eight milkmaids? And
their cows! Is this some kind of a joke? If so, I'm afraid I don't find it
very amusing.
Emily.

Jan 2

Look here, Edward,
This has gone far enough. You say you're sending me nine ladies dancing.
All I can say is, judging from the way they dance, they're certainly not
ladies. The village just isn't accustomed to seeing a regiment of shameless
viragos, with nothing on but their lipstick, cavorting round the green, and
it's Mother and I who get the blame. If you value our friendship, which I
do (less and less), kindly stop this ridiculous behavior at once!
Emily.

Jan 3

As I write this letter, ten disgusting old men are prancing up and down all
over what used to be the garden, before the geese and the swans and the
cows got at it. And several of them, I have just noticed, are taking
inexcusable liberties with the milkmaids. Meanwhile the neighbors are
trying to have us evicted. I shall never speak to you again.
Emily.

Jan 4

This is the last straw! You know I detest bagpipes! The place has now
become something between a menagerie and a madhouse, and a man from the
council has just declared it unfit for habitation. At least Mother has been
spared this last outrage; they took her away yesterday afternoon in an
ambulance. I hope you're satisfied.

Jan 5

Sir,
Our client, Miss Emily Wilbraham, instructs me to inform you that with the
arrival on her premises at 7:30 this morning of the entire percussion
section of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, and several of their friends, she
has no course left open to her but to seek an injunction to prevent you
importuning her further. I am making arrangements for the return of much
assorted livestock.
I am, Sir, yours faithfully,
G. Creep
Attorney at law.
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