glittering beads hanging from her ears, and her eyes were
full of love.
Soon, the entire Colored choir had surrounded the
child.
“You hungry?”
“Where are your people?”
“You must be freezing!” Somebody draped her shoul-
ders with a soft purple shawl. The threads in it sparkled
like diamonds. She felt herself grinning.
“We want to help you,” the honey man said.
“This child is so beautiful . . . like a work of art! What’s
your name, Baby Girl?” The woman leaned to touch the
child’s shoulder, and when she did, the child knew all of it
was real.
The brown child thought hard and then said in a firm
voice, “Jolly. My name is Jolly!”
“
Tis the season to be Jolly
!” The Colored choir sang the
same joyful song that they had in her old life, but this time
it was just for her.
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