Now Billy Ray Poteat was a hog farmer. He had been elected mayor of Sorrytown on the platform of making the little place modern like the rest of the world, and making new laws and stuff. His most recent idea which barely passed the city council vote was to abolish the manger scene at the war memorial next to the big fir tree at the end of main street.

"We don't want to get sued," said he, "like they do in the big city for not being fair to all religions." And so three days before Christmas, he had ordered the city maintenance crew to burn the wooden manger and the nativity figures which the town had used for who knows how many years.

Billy Ray was a practical man, too. For example, since the city treasury had no surplus, he thought it would be a good idea not to turn on the Christmas lights which the city usually spread along the streets and around the big fir tree.

"We need to save money this year, " said he, "you'll thank me when the city has a surplus someday."

Somehow though, no surplus ever appeared on the account books no matter how hard Billy Ray tried. But Billy Ray, he always seemed to be dressed just like a fine politician looking kind of comical as he drove around in a shiny new pickup truck with a thirty-ought six in the gun rack.