He had hoped that Santa Claus would drop by on Christmas Eve and deliver him to a good home. But he hadn't. Santa had been too busy that year, delivering even more presents than usual.
Wolstencroft felt sad and lonely sitting there all by himself on the shelf that was high above the Christmas cards. He longed to have a child take him home and love him and play with him. But, most of all, to hug him. For no hug is ever too big for a teddy bear.
He was trying hard not to cry because he knew that tears would make his eyes all puffy and red and then he would have even less chance of finding a home.
But why oh why didn't someone choose him?
Why, he wondered, was he passed over so many times for other less beautiful bears?