MAYNARD — Santa soars into town along the Assabet River and crests the sprawling red brick massif of the former textile mill. He buzzes over marching bands and floats assembled in the Clock Tower Place parking lot, and swoops down toward balloon-festooned storefronts on Main Street.

“Ho, ho, ho,” chortles the elf, waving a burly, red-and-white-clad arm at the tiny faces gawking up at him from the street. His ride banks sharply left, leaving him looking down over several hundred feet of open airspace, held on board by a seat belt. A less-experienced flier might panic, but Kris Kringle never cringes. He waves on, chuckling in time with the beating of the rotors. “Ho, ho, ho.”