Greeted by poetic ghosts

It surprised her and she gave a little jump when the door flew open with a bang and either Gloriana, Guinevere, Rosabella or Juanita--well, perhaps not Juanita, for she was, after all, only a little past three--but they all looked so much alike and were so nearly of an age that it was hard to tell one from the other--stood dressed in white like a small-sized ghost haunting a large-sized doorway and cavernous dark hall beyond. "Well, hello!" Linnea said. "Merry Christmas."

     Dear Mrs. Ecklund, and family, come inside,
     On this happy Yuletide,
     You will find all warmth and cheer
     In your honor waiting here.

the little ghost cleared her throat and recited. . . . In the faint light, by straining the eyes, it could be dimly seen that she was wearing something like a white shroud, with a pillow stuck in behind and amorphous curls, lumps of hair in rag curlers, like knots on a club. . . . 
     "Which way did you say we was supposed to go?" she asked the little guide.
     This conjured up out of the shadows another small white shape, wearing a similar shroud-like garment and lumpily crowned by the wreath of rag curls. She was guarding the parlor door, which she now pushed open with a squeak. Beckoning theatrically she recited:

     Enter here our portal gay
     On this merry Christmas day.
     In the shining candlelight
     'NeathbranchesofourChristmastreesobright
     One and all must now make merry
     Before our Christmas fire SO CHEERY.

     "Well, what do you know," Linnea said. "Are we supposed to go in the parlor? My, that sounded pretty." . . .  "What you kids got on anyway?" she asked.
     "We're angels," they announced. "These here is costumes."
     "Of course!" Linnea said, smiting her brow. "I must be rumdum."

     --From The Peaceable Kingdom