that our curiosity was aroused and we suspected they were up to something.
Sure enough, at eight o'clock we all trooped downstairs through the hall in pitch darkness
(it gave me the shivers, and I wished I was safely back upstairs!) to the alcove.
We could switch on the light, since this room doesn't have any windows. When that was done, Father opened the big cabinet.
“Oh, how wonderful!” we all cried. In the corner was a large basket decorated with colorful paper and a mask of Black Peter.
We quickly took the basket upstairs with us. Inside was a little gift for everyone, including an appropriate verse.
Since you're familiar with the kinds of poems people write each other on St. Nicholas Day, I won't copy them down for you.
I received a Kewpie doll, Father got bookends, and so on. Well anyway, it was a nice idea,
and since the eight of us had never celebrated St. Nicholas Day before, this was a good time to begin. Yours, Anne
PS. We also had presents for everyone downstairs, a few things left over from the Good Old Days;
plus Miep and Bep are always grateful for money. Today we heard that Mr. van Daan's ashtray,
Mr. Dussel's picture frame and Father's bookends were made by none other than Mr. Voskuijl.
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