The little angel glanced at his watch and gave a gasp of dismay. “Oh, my!” he exclaimed to a friendly bird, as they flew through the darkness together, “I shall never make it in time for the celebrations.” “What celebrations?” asked the bird sympathetically. She was fond of the little angel, whom she knew from his visits to earth, and liked to hear of heavenly matters.

The little angel explained: “Today, even as millions around the globe recall the birth of the Babe of Bethlehem, the skies will resound with music, as we honour the King of Kings.” The little angel’s face clouded as he realized that he might miss the splendid spectacle.

“If you keep on swiftly,” said the bird, “you should get there soon enough.” She departed with a wave, and the little angel raced towards Heaven. He would be a misfit at the celestial party, he thought sadly. He would arrive puffing and panting, in garments bespattered with mud.

Perhaps, he ought not to have pulled that toddler out of the puddle. She had been sobbing as if her heart would break, and the little angel had rushed to her side. He had wiped her clean with his snowy cloak and sent her singing on her way. Now, here he was, dirty and delayed. Maybe, if he sped along, he could reach before the great fanfare, and take his place unnoticed amid the glittering throng.

The little angel was nearing his goal when he saw the kitten. It was a pitiful thing, huddled on the branch of a tree and mewing miserably. Some distance away, a boy was peering into bushes, calling aloud to “Lizzy,” as the tears rolled down his cheeks.

“I must not stop,” the little angel told himself, but he could not shut his ears to the cries of the kitten. Swooping down, he gathered the tiny creature in his arms. Hastily handing it over to its delighted owner, the little angel soared towards the gleaming gates.

There was no escaping a shame-faced entrance. Walking slowly through the huge hall, between rows of shining beings, the little angel felt the eyes of the King upon him. He crept quietly into a corner, wishing the festivities would begin so that he might be forgotten; but silence prevailed for the King was speaking: “Come forward, little angel. You will share my glory this day.”

As the little angel moved in a daze towards the throne, a mighty cheer arose from all assembled, for his robes had turned a white so dazzling, that he seemed a pillar of light.