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okay to be apart, and that meant that Max was ready to go to his new home at the Nest.
    On Saturday, Mom drove Charles and Max to the Nest. “Here he is!” Charles handed the cat carrier over to Mr. Baker. “Take good care of him!”
    “I promise,” said Mr. Baker. “This is wonderful. The kids are going to be so happy to have a kitten!”
    Mom looked a little sad on the way home. “Itsure was nice having a cat around,” she said. “I’ll miss that little guy.”
    Maggie must have felt the same way. First she padded all through every room in the house, looking for Max. Then, finally, she seemed to understand that Max wasn’t just in the next room this time. This time, he was really gone. Maggie spent the rest of the day lying under the Christmas tree with her head resting on her paws, heaving long sighs and watching the Petersons with her sad brown eyes. Maggie’s big heart was obviously broken.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    “When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer!” Sammy said his line and waited for Charles to say the next one.
    And waited.
    Charles was thinking. “Why do they say eight
tiny
reindeer?” he asked. “If they’re so tiny, how can they pull Santa’s sled? Maybe it’s because his
sleigh
is miniature — that means little, right? But how little can it be? It’s loaded with presents for every kid in the world!”
    “Charles,” Sammy said. “It’s just a poem.” He gave Maggie a hug. “Tell him to just say his line, Maggie.” The boys were at Charles’s house,practicing their poem. Maggie was still moping, and Buddy was trying to cheer her up by rolling onto his back and batting at her chin with his paws, the way Max always did. But Buddy was not Max, and Maggie knew it. Max was gone, and nobody could take his place. Maggie let out one of her big sighs and plodded over to lie down by the Christmas tree.
    Charles
couldn’t
say his line, because he couldn’t quite remember it. And, even worse, he knew the hardest lines of all were still coming up, the ones where Santa calls to his reindeer by name. No matter how hard he tried, Charles could not get those reindeer names straight. Dasher and Dancer, he could remember. But after that he got all mixed up. Comet? Cupid? What kind of names were those for reindeer?
    “You know what, Sammy?”
    “What?”
    “I really do not like this poem.” Charles buried his face in the soft fur of Buddy’s neck. “Maybewe have to come up with another idea for the Nest’s Christmas show. This isn’t working out.”
    Sammy shrugged. “It’s okay with me if we do something else,” he said. “But it’s up to you to think of it.”
    “Maybe we could just sing ‘Jingle Bells’ or something,” Charles suggested. He knew it was a dumb idea, but at the moment it was the only one he could think of.
    Sammy rolled his eyes. “You can do better than that.” He went over to give Maggie a hug. But the big puppy struggled out of his arms and galloped toward the front door, woofing her big loud woof and waving her big feathery tail.
    You’re back! You’re back! Oh, my dear little friend. I’m so glad you came back! I missed you so much!
    Sammy looked at Charles. Charles looked at Sammy. What was going on?
    Then the doorbell rang.
    “Can you get that, Charles?” Mom called from the kitchen.
    Charles was already on his way, with Buddy trotting beside him. Sammy grabbed onto Maggie’s collar to keep her inside while Charles pulled the door open. There, on the porch, was Mr. Baker, holding a cat carrier. He did not look very jolly.
    “Mr. Baker!” Charles said.
    “Hello, Charles,” replied Mr. Baker. “Can you guess why I’m here?”
    By then, Maggie had struggled out of Sammy’s grasp. She had both big paws up on the cat carrier. Her tail was wagging and she was woofing softly. Charles could hear happy meows coming from inside the carrier. He recognized that voice. It was Max.
    Hooraaaay, hooraaaay! I’m