Little Piccola: A Christmas Audio Story For Children

This is a happy audiobook story for children with a Christmas theme! It’s about a lovely little girl who had no friends and very little possessions, but still she was happy. And through the magic of Christmas and new friends, it turned out to be her best holiday ever! It’s a story of faith, love, and friendship.

Transcript

Hello,

This is Stefania.

We're taking a little break this week from Buster Bumblebee,

But we will be back with a tale of Buster Bumblebee after Christmas time.

Today,

I've got a special Christmas story for you.

It's about a little girl who lived in Italy who didn't have very much money or toys or many pretty things.

So,

You think maybe she would have a pretty awful Christmas,

But not.

No.

The power of friendship and the power and magic of love gave this little girl the happiest Christmas ever.

Let's begin.

This is the story,

A Christmas story of a little girl called Little Piccola.

Piccola is an Italian word.

It means small.

Little Piccola.

Piccola lived in Italy where the oranges grow and where all the year the sun shines warm and bright.

I suppose you think Piccola a very strange name for a little girl,

But in her country it was not strange at all,

And her mother thought it was the sweetest name a little girl ever had.

Piccola had no kind father,

No big brother or sister,

And no sweet baby to play with and love.

She and her mother lived all alone in an old stone house that looked on a dark,

Narrow street.

They were very poor,

And the mother was away from home almost every day,

Washing clothes and scrubbing floors and working hard to earn money for her little girl and herself.

So you see,

Piccola was alone a great deal of the time,

And if she had not been a very happy,

Contented little child,

I hardly know what she would have done.

She had no playthings except a heap of stones in the backyard that she used for building houses and a very old,

Very ragged doll that her mother had found in the street one day.

But there was a small round hole in the stone wall at the back of her yard,

And her greatest pleasure was to look through that hole into her neighbor's garden.

When she stood on a stone and put her eyes close to the hole,

She could see the green grass of the garden and smell the sweet flowers,

And even hear the water splashing into the fountain.

She had never seen anyone walking in the garden,

For it belonged to an old gentleman who did not care about grass and flowers.

One day,

In the autumn,

Her mother told her that the old gentleman had gone away and rented his house to a family of little American children who had come with their sick mother to spend the winter in Italy.

After this,

Piccolo was never lonely,

For all day long the children ran and played and danced and sang in the garden.

It was several weeks before they saw her at all,

And I am not sure they ever would have done so.

But one day,

The kitten ran away,

And in chasing her,

They came close to the wall and saw Piccolo's black eyes looking through a hole in the stones.

They were a little frightened at first and did not speak to her,

But the next day she was there again,

And Rose,

The oldest girl,

Went up to the wall and talked to her for a little while.

When the children found out that she has no one to play with and was very lonely,

They talked to her every day and often bought her fruits and candies and passed them through the hole in the wall.

One day,

They even pushed the kitten through,

But the hole was hardly large enough for her,

And she mewed and scratched and was very much frightened.

After that,

The little boy said he would talk to his father and ask him,

Could the hole not be made larger,

And then Piccolo could come and play with them.

The father had found out that Piccolo's mother was a good woman and that the little girl herself was sweet and kind,

So that he was very glad to have some of the stones broken away and an opening made for Piccolo to come in.

How excited she was and how glad the children were when she first stepped into the garden.

She wore a best dress,

A long,

Bright-colored woolen skirt and a white waist.

Round her neck,

She wore stringer beads,

And on her feet were little wooden shoes.

It would seem strange to us,

Wouldn't it,

To wear wooden shoes,

But Piccolo and her mother had never worn anything else and never had any money to buy stockings.

Or tights,

Or socks,

Piccolo almost always ran about barefooted,

Like the kittens and the chickens and the little ducks.

What a good time they had that day and how glad Piccolo's mother was that her little girl could have such a pleasant,

Safe place to play in while she was away at work.

By and by,

December came,

And the other children began to talk about Christmas.

One day,

When Piccolo's curly head and bright eyes came peeping through the hole in the wall,

And they ran to her and helped her in,

And as they did so,

They all asked her at once what she thought she would have as a Christmas present.

Christmas present?

Said Piccolo.

Why,

What is that?

All the children looked surprised at this,

And Rose said rather gravely,

Dear Piccolo,

Don't you know what Christmas is?

Oh yes,

Piccolo knew that it was a happy day,

And she had been to church on that day and heard the beautiful singing and had seen the picture of the babe lying in the manger with cattle and sheep sleeping round it.

Oh yes,

She knew all that very well,

But what was a Christmas present?

Then the children began to laugh and to answer her altogether.

There was such a clatter of tongues that she could only hear a few of the words now and then such as chimney,

Santa Claus,

Stockings,

Reindeer,

Christmas Eve,

Candles,

And toys.

Piccolo put her hands over her ears and said,

Oh,

I can't understand one word.

You tell me,

Rose.

Then Rose told her all about jolly Santa Claus with his red cheeks and white beard and fur coat and about his reindeer and sled full of toys.

Every Christmas Eve,

Said Rose,

He comes down the chimney and fills the stockings of all the good children.

So,

Piccolo,

You hang up your stocking and who knows what a beautiful Christmas present you will find when the morning comes.

Of course,

Piccolo thought this was a delightful plan and was very pleased to hear about it.

Then all the children told her of every Christmas Eve they could remember and of the presents they had had so that she went home thinking of nothing but dolls and games and balls and ribbons and marbles and wagons and kites.

She told her mother about Santa Claus and her mother seemed to think that perhaps he did not know that there was a little girl in that house and very likely he would not come at all.

But Piccolo felt very sure Santa Claus would remember her for her little friends had promised her to send a letter up the chimney to remind him.

Christmas Eve came at last.

Piccolo's mother hurried home from her work.

They had their little supper of soup and bread and soon it was bedtime.

Time to get ready for Santa Claus.

Oh,

Piccolo remembered then that for the first time that the children had told her she must hang up her stocking.

And she hadn't any and neither had her mother.

How sad.

How sad it was.

Now Santa Claus would come and perhaps be angry because he couldn't find any place to put the present.

Poor little girl stood by the fireplace and big tears began to run down her cheeks.

Just then her mother called to her,

Harry Piccolo,

Come to bed.

What should she do?

But she stopped crying and tried to think.

And in a moment she remembered her wooden shoes and ran off to get one of them.

She put it close to the chimney and said to herself,

Surely Santa Claus will know what it's there for.

He will know I haven't any stockings.

So I gave him the shoe instead.

And then she went happily to her bed and was asleep almost as soon as she had nestled close to her mother's side.

The sun had only just begun to shine next morning when Piccolo awoke.

With one jump she was out on the floor and running towards the chimney.

The wooden shoe was lying where she had left it but you could never,

Never guess what was in it.

Piccolo had not meant to wake her mother.

But this surprise was more than any little girl could bear and yet be quiet.

So she danced to the bed with the shoe in her hand calling,

Mother,

Mother,

Look,

Look,

See the present Santa Claus brought me.

Her mother raised her head and looked to the shoe.

Why Piccolo,

She said,

A little chimney swallow nestling in your shoe.

What a good Santa Claus to bring you a bird.

Good Santa Claus,

Dear Santa Claus,

Cried Piccolo.

And she kissed her mother and kissed the bird and kissed the shoe.

And even through kisses up the chimney she was so happy.

When the birdling was taken out of the shoe,

They found he did not try to fly,

Only to hop about the room.

And as they looked closer they could see that one of his wings was hurt a little.

But the mother bounded up carefully so it did not seem to pain him.

And he was so gentle that he took a drink of water from a cup and even the crumbs and the seeds out of Piccolo's hands.

She was a proud little girl when she took her Christmas present to show the children in the garden.

They had a great many gifts.

Dows that could say,

Mama,

Write picture books,

Trains of cars,

Toy pianos.

But not one of their playthings was alive,

Like Piccolo's birdling.

They were as pleased as she and Rose hunted about the house until she found a large wicker cage that belonged to a blackbird she once had.

She gave the cage to Piccolo and the swallow seemed to make himself quite at home in it at once and sat on the perch,

Winking his bright eyes at the children.

Rose had saved a bag of candies for Piccolo and when she went home at last,

With the cage and her dear swallow safely inside it,

I am sure there was not a happier little girl in the whole country of Italy.

And that's our story.

That's the story of little Piccolo who had nothing,

But really she had everything.

Because she had her mommy,

She had her bird,

She had her new friends in the other garden,

And she had the best feeling in the world.

She was happy.

That's it for now.

We'll be back again after Christmas with more of Buster Bumblebee.

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to you!

Bye for now.

Reviews

Can you pretty pretty please do more Christmas ones. I absolutely loved it 😍.

Wow 🤩 I loved that thank you so much for the story 📚 🎁🎁🎁🎅🏻

Best wishes Isabella 💗

Love it listen to it every night by the way what was the birds name and did she keep the bird for good 🐥🐦🐤🐣

Nua kid great 👍 but right now it’s not Christmas 🎄

Wow 🤩 it was amazing loved it

what year was little piccola out.

Thank you so much for making this beautiful story, that teaches to appreciate what you have.
It really helped me fall asleep. I listen to it every night. And thanks again!

Also, please make more like this!

I like how it basically tells why there is the religion of Santa putting Christmas presents in wooden shoes

OMG! Lovely story! I still don’t get why her name is Piccola it sound like you’re saying pickle!

Very sweet; thank you.