_Little One-Eye._ Mamma, mamma, look here! Come quickly! Isn't this a
wonderful tree!
_Mother._ Why, how strange! This tree was not here yesterday. I wonder
how it came! I never saw such a beautiful tree before!
_Little One-Eye._ Do you see the golden apples on it? O mamma! may we
have some? Please, mother!
_Mother._ Yes, dear little One-Eye. You are the oldest, climb up into
the tree and pick some golden apples for us.
_One-Eye._ That will be fun. Here I go!
_Mother._ Why don't you get the apples, little One-Eye?
_Little One-Eye._ They all get away from me. When I try to pick one it
springs back!
[Illustration]
_Mother._ Come down, little One-Eye. Now little Three-Eyes, you can see
better with your three eyes, than your sister with her one eye. You may
climb up and get some apples for us.
_Little Three-Eyes._ I'll pick a lot of them and throw them down for you
to catch. Why, how funny they act! I almost get one and it always
springs away!
_Mother._ Come down and let me try. I never heard of fruit that would
not be picked. Now children, I'll get some of the lovely apples for you.
There! Why, what is the matter? I can't reach a single apple.
_Little Two-Eyes._ Let me try; perhaps I can pick some.
_Mother._ You, with your two eyes! How can you expect to get them if we
can't?
_Little Two-Eyes._ Please let me try, mother.
_Mother._ Well, I suppose you can try, but I know you can't get them.
_Two-Eyes._ Here they are. Catch them, mother; catch them, little
One-Eye! Oh, mother! I see a young man on horseback coming along the
road. He looks like a prince.
_Mother._ Hurry down, little Two-Eyes! He must not see you,--a girl with
two eyes! I'm ashamed of you. Hide under this barrel!
[_The prince rides up._]
_Prince._ Good morning, ladies, what a lovely tree you have here! She
who gives me a branch shall have whatever she wishes.
_Little One-Eye._ The tree is ours, Great Prince; but when we try to get
its fruit, it slips away from us.
_Prince._ It is strange, if the tree belongs to you, that you cannot get
the fruit! But where do these apples come from?
_Little Three-Eyes._ We have another sister, but she has only two eyes
and we are ashamed of her; so we hid her under this barrel, and she has
rolled the apples out to you.
_Prince._ Little Two-Eyes, come out. Can you get me a branch from this
wonderful tree?
_Little Two-Eyes._ Yes, Prince; here is a branch with many golden apples
on it.
_Prince._ And what is your wish, little Two-Eyes?
_Little Two-Eyes._ O Prince! My mother and my sisters are ashamed of me
and do not treat me well. They do not give me enough to eat and they do
not like to have me near them. Please take me away where I can be happy
and free!
_Prince._ Come with me, little Two-Eyes; you shall go to my father's
palace and be a little princess. There you will be happy and free and
never be hungry or lonely again.
THE DAYS OF THE WEEK
THE WEEK--MONDAY, TUESDAY, WEDNESDAY, THURSDAY, FRIDAY, SATURDAY, SUNDAY
[Illustration]
_Monday._ Well, I am glad to be here at last. Certainly my work is very
important. As the first working day of the week, I begin all business;
and I have always heard that if a thing is well begun, it is half done.
People call me Moon-day--isn't that a pretty name, the day of the moon?
How beautiful the moon is, riding in her silver chariot across the dark
blue sky! I am proud of my name. The moon is constantly changing and I
like change. I like brightness and cleanliness too, and good housewives
wash their clothes on Monday. How white and clean they look hanging on
the line! The sun and wind play hide and seek and help to cleanse the
clothes. School begins on Monday and the little children run and laugh
on their way to school. Every one seems happy that another week has
begun.
[Illustration]
_Tuesday._ I am named for Tui, the god of war. In the countries of the
north I am greatly honored by all the people. Soldiers when going to war
call on Tui for help, and they like to begin a battle on Tuesday. Monday
likes to begin work, but I like to make some progress. The children
always know their lessons better on Tuesday, and are happier than on
Monday. The white clothes are sprinkled and rolled, and now the maids
iron the pretty baby dresses and the house linen. They sing and laugh
over their work. The world is all running smoothly on Tuesday, and I
think I like my work the best.
[Illustration]
_Wednesday._ I should be the best of days, for I am named for Woden, or
Odin, the king of the gods. The hardest work of the week is finished
when I come, and there is time for a rest. Perhaps mother will bake a
special cake for dinner. To-day the children take their music lessons,
and the boys go for a lesson in swimming or gymnastic exercise. This is
the day young people choose for their wedding day, and you don't know
how glad I am to be a part of their happiness. I believe I have more
sunshine than the other days, for Woden likes to have clear skies and
health-giving breezes. I would not change with any of my sister days.
[Illustration]
_Thursday._ I bring the thunder and the lightning, and I cleave the dark
clouds with my rapid flashes. I glory in a storm, for Thor, the god of
thunder, has chosen me for his day, and I bear his name. A life of ease
and quiet has no charms for me. I like the din and crash of war, the
noise and hurry of business. The fury of the heavens, the crash of
falling trees, the roaring of waters,--what can give greater pleasure?
Business thrives on Thursday. Men rush to and fro, buying and selling,
building great houses, digging in the mines, and sailing the seas. Life
and action are my delight. Hurrah for Thor's day!
[Illustration]
_Friday._ After the bustle and work of the week I come to clean and
settle all disturbances. Now dirt and dust must disappear under the
broom and brush. How the windows shine and how spotless is the hearth!
Children rake up the leaves and burn them; all rubbish must be cleared
away. Order and neatness I love; and so does Freya, for whom I am named.
She is the goddess of beauty, and there is no beauty where neatness and
order are absent. Some say that I am an unlucky day, but that is a
mistake. See what wonderful things have happened on my day, what great
men have been born on Friday! I am the last school day of the week, and
to-day the children may forget lessons and play outdoors a little
longer. To-day the family gather for a story at the twilight hour, and
all is rest and happiness.
[Illustration]
_Saturday._ I am the jolly day of the week. "School is out!" the
children cry, and all day long they sing and call to each other in their
games. To-day I smell the cakes and pies cooking in the range, for
Saturday is baking day. How the little children love to watch mother
stirring the cake and frosting, and how they beg to clean the sweet
stuff out of the bowl. Father comes home earlier to-day, and all go for
a walk in the woods or park. All men need a holiday, for "all work and
no play makes Jack a dull boy." The boys play ball and run and shout in
their joy. The girls have little parties, and cook gives them some fresh
cakes. I am named for Saetere, god of the harvest, and he is always
merry. So I wish all people to be happy on Saturday, the play day of the
week.
[Illustration]
_Sunday._ You have all spoken well, my sisters, and each one has some
claim to be the best day of the week. How fine it is that every day
holds some special joy in work or play! But you all know the highest joy
is mine. I am named for the golden sun that gives light to the world. On
Sunday men think of the inner light that makes them love the good and
the true and persuades them to do right. To-day the family is united,
and in the morning with fresh garments and happy faces they seek the
knowledge of a higher life. Around the dinner table they talk happily
together of their work and play, and they plan how they may do better
work during the next week. Love and peace are in all hearts. A desire to
help the weak and poor and sad is in every soul. I am happy and blest to
be Sunday.
HAeNSEL AND GRETEL
PERSONS IN THE PLAY--HAeNSEL, GRETEL, MOTHER, FATHER, THE GINGERBREAD
WITCH, SANDMAN, CHILDREN
SCENE I.--_In the Cottage_
_Haensel._ I wish mother would come home! I'm cold and hungry. I'm tired
of bread. I want some milk and sugar.
_Gretel._ Hush, Haensel; don't be cross!
_Haensel._ If we only had something good to eat: eggs, and butter and
meat. Oh, dear!
_Gretel._ Dear Haensel, if you will stop crying, I'll tell you a secret.
_Haensel._ Oh, what is it? Something nice?
_Gretel._ Yes, indeed. Look in this jug! It is full of milk. Mother will
make us a pudding for supper.
_Haensel._ Goody, goody! How thick the cream is! Let me taste it.
_Gretel._ Aren't you ashamed, you naughty boy! Take your finger out of
the cream. We must go back to work. When mother comes she will be cross
if you have not finished the broom.
_Haensel._ I'll not work any more. I want to dance.
_Gretel._ So do I. I like to dance better than to work. Come, let us
dance and sing.
Brother, come and dance with me,
Both my hands I offer thee;
Right foot first,
Left foot then,
Round about and back again.
_Haensel._ I can't dance. Show me what I ought to do.
_Gretel._ Look at me. Do this.
With your foot you tap, tap, tap!
With your hands you clap, clap, clap!
Right foot first,
Left foot then,
Round about and back again.
_Haensel_ (_dancing_).
With your hands you clap, clap, clap!
With your foot you tap, tap, tap!
Right foot first,
Left foot then,
Round about and back again.
_Gretel._ That is fine, brotherkin! Soon you will dance as well as I.
Come, try again.
With your head you nick, nick, nick!
With your fingers click, click, click!
Right foot first,
Left foot then,
Round about and back again.
_Haensel._
O Gretel dear, O sister dear,
Come dance and sing with me.
_Gretel._
O Haensel dear, O brother dear,
Come dance and sing with me.
Tra, la, la, tra, la, la,
La, la, la, la, tra, la, la.
[_Knocks down the milk._]
[Illustration]
_Mother_ (_enters_). What is all this noise?
_Gretel._ 'Twas Haensel. He wanted--
_Haensel._ 'Twas Gretel. She said I--
_Mother._ Hush, you noisy children! What work have you done? Gretel,
your stocking is not done yet; and where are your brooms, you lazy Hans?
You have knocked over the milk too! What shall we have for supper? Lazy
folks can't stay in my house. Take the basket and go to the woods for
strawberries. And don't dare to come back without them! Off with you!
and be quick too!
[_The children go out. Mother sits weeping._]
Oh! I am so tired and hungry. Nothing in the house to eat. What shall I
do for the poor hungry children--Oh, dear, what can I do!
[_Goes to sleep, crying._]
_Father_ (_enters, singing_).
Hillo, hilloo, hillo, hilloo,
Little mother, where are you?
_Mother_ (_looking up_). Who is singing and making so much noise?
_Father._ I called you, for I am hungry and want my supper.
_Mother._ Your supper! with nothing in the house to eat and nothing to
drink.
_Father._ Let us see. Open your eyes and look in my basket. Cheer up,
mother!
_Mother._ What do I see? Ham and butter and flour and sausage! Where did
you get all these good things, father?
_Father._ Hurrah, won't we have a merry time, won't we have a happy
time? I sold so many brooms at the fair that I could buy you all these
good things and some tea besides.
_Mother._ Tea! how good it smells and how glad I am! Now I will cook the
supper.
_Father._ But where are the children? Haensel! Gretel! Where are they?
_Mother._ Oh, the bad children! They did no work and they were singing
and dancing and spilled the milk, so I sent them to the woods to pick
some strawberries for supper.
_Father._ Laughing and dancing! Why should you be angry? Where have they
gone?
_Mother._ To the mountain.
_Father._ To the mountain! the home of the witch!
_Mother._ What do you mean? The witch?
_Father._ Yes, the old witch of the mountain turns all children to
gingerbread and then she eats them.
_Mother._ Eats them! Oh, my children, my pretty little children! Come,
we must find them! Haensel, Gretel, where are you?
[_Runs out._]
_Father._ I will go with you, mother. Don't cry! we will surely find
them.
[_Goes out._]
SCENE II.--_In the Forest_
HAeNSEL, GRETEL
_Gretel._ See, my wreath is nearly done.
_Haensel._ And the basket is filled with strawberries. Won't mother be
pleased? We will have them for supper.
_Gretel._ Let me put the wreath on you!
_Haensel._ No, no! boys don't wear wreaths. Put it on your own head. You
shall be queen of the woods.
_Gretel._ Then I must have a nosegay, too.
_Haensel._ Now you have a scepter and a crown. You shall have some
strawberries, too. Don't they taste good?
_Gretel._ Let me feed you.
_Haensel._ And I'll feed you. Don't be greedy!
_Gretel._ Oh, Haensel, the berries are all gone. What naughty children we
are! We must pick some more now for mother.
_Haensel._ I don't care, I was so hungry. But it is too late to pick
strawberries now. Let us go home.
_Gretel._ Let us hurry; it is dark and I'm afraid.
_Haensel._ Pooh, _I'm_ not afraid. But I can't see the way. Gretel, we're
lost!
_Gretel._ What was that?
_Haensel._ What?
_Gretel._ That shining there in the dark!
_Haensel._ Pshaw, don't be afraid! That is a birch tree in its silver
dress.
_Gretel._ There, see! a lantern is coming this way.
_Haensel._ That is a will-of-the-wisp with its little candle.
_Gretel._ I'm frightened, I'm frightened! I wish I were home!
_Haensel._ Gretelkin, stick close to me! I'll take care of you.
_Gretel._ See! what is that little man in gray?
_Haensel._ I see him, too. I wonder who he is!
_Sandman_ (_comes_).
With my little bag of sand
By every child's bedside I stand.
Then little tired eyelids close,
And little limbs have sweet repose.
Then from the starry sphere above
The angels come with peace and love.
Then slumber, children, slumber,
For happy dreams are sent you
Through the hours you sleep.
[_Goes away._]
_Haensel._ I'm sleepy. Let us go to sleep.
_Gretel._ Let us say our prayers first.
_Both._
When at night I go to sleep
Fourteen angels watch do keep:
Two my head are guarding,
Two my feet are guiding,
Two are on my right hand,
Two are on my left hand,
Two who warmly cover,
Two who o'er me hover,
Two to whom 'tis given
To guide my steps to Heaven.
_Gretel._ Good night, dear brother.
_Haensel._ Good night, dear sister. Don't be afraid. I'll take care of
you.
[_They sleep._]
SCENE III.--_In the Wood--Morning_
_Haensel._ Wake up, dear little sister! The birds are singing and it is
time to get up!
_Gretel._ I'm awake, dear brother. Come, let us hurry home.
_Haensel._ Here is a path! Oh, Gretel, look at the pretty house!
_Gretel._ A cottage all made of chocolate creams!
_Haensel._ The house seems to smile!
_Gretel._ It looks good enough to eat.
_Haensel._ Let's nibble it!
[_A voice within the house._]
Nibble, nibble, manikin!
Who's nibbling at my housekin?
_Haensel._ Oh, did you hear?
_Gretel._ It's the wind!
_Haensel._ Never mind, let us eat the cake. I'm hungry. Take a bite!
Isn't it good?
_Gretel._ Yes, and look at the candy! What a funny fence this is! It
looks like little boys and girls made of gingerbread with sugar
trimmings. I wonder who lives in this house?
[_The Gingerbread Woman comes out of the house and speaks._]
[Illustration]
You've come to visit me, that is sweet,
You charming children, so good to eat!
_Haensel._ Who are you, ugly one? Let me go!
_Gretel._ Take your arms away from me!
_The Gingerbread Witch._ Come into my house, little children! You may
have sugarplums and peaches and cherries and candies and everything nice
that little folks like!
_Haensel._ No, I won't! I don't want to go into your house. I want to go
home!
_Gretel._ I don't like you, Mrs. Gingerbread! You aren't nice like my
mother. I want to go home to my own mother!
_The Gingerbread Witch._ Come, dear little Gretel. You must go in with
me. We'll leave Haensel in this little house outside. He must get fatter,
so we will give him many good things to eat. Get in, Haensel. I must lock
you in!
_Haensel._ What are you going to do with me?
_The Gingerbread Witch._ I'll fatten you up nicely and then you will
see! Now I'll go inside for some sugarplums. You wait here, Gretel,
until I come back. Hocus, pocus, malus locus! now you can't move!
[_Goes in._]
_Haensel._ Listen, Gretel! Watch the old witch and see everything she
does to me. Hush, she's coming back!
_The Gingerbread Witch._ Now, Hans, eat this raisin. It will make you
fat! Now, Gretel, you have stood still long enough.
Hocus, pocus, elder bush!
Rigid body loosen, hush!
Then, Gretel, you must come with me, but Hans cannot move until he gets
nice and fat like you. Run in, little daughter, and get some more nuts
and raisins for him. I like plump little bodies like yours!
[_Gretel goes in._]
_Haensel._ Please let me out, Mrs. Gingerbread.
_The Gingerbread Witch._ When you are fatter. Now I must look to my
fire. It is burning well, and the oven will soon be hot enough to bake
my dinner. When I change my gingerbread I'll pop little Gretel in and
shut the door.
[_Gretel comes in very quietly and goes to Hans._]
_Gretel._
Hocus, pocus, elder bush!
Rigid body loosen, hush!
_The Gingerbread Witch._ What are you saying?
_Gretel._ Oh, nothing,--only,--
_The Gingerbread Witch._ Only what?
_Gretel._ Only, much good may it do to Hans!
_The Gingerbread Witch._ Poor Hans is too thin, but I hope the raisins
and nuts will be good for him. But, you, my plump little Gretel, are
just fat enough--come, peep in the oven and see if the gingerbread is
ready!
_Haensel_ (_softly_).
Sister dear, have a care;
She means to hurt you, so beware!
_Gretel_ (_shyly_). I don't understand what I am to do!
_The Gingerbread Witch._ Do? Why, open the oven door!
_Haensel._ Sister dear, now take care!
_Gretel._ I'm such a goose, I don't understand.
_The Gingerbread Witch._ Do as I say, it's only play! This is the way.
[_Opens the door and looks in oven. Hans and Gretel run and push her
in._]
_Children sing._ One little push, bang goes the door, clang! Now, let us
be happy, dancing so merrily. Hurrah! Hurrah!
_Haensel._ Why, see the children, Gretel. The fence is moving! The
gingerbread children are _real_ children, but their eyes are shut!
_The Children._ We are saved! We are saved!
_Gretel._ Who are you? Why do you keep your eyes shut? You're sleeping
and yet you are talking!
_The Children._ O touch us, we pray, that we may awake!
_Haensel._ The witch has changed them into gingerbread children. I know
what to do. Let us say what the witch said to you, and what you said to
me!
_Haensel and Gretel._
Hocus, pocus, elder bush!
Rigid body loosen, hush!
_The Children._ (_Opening their eyes and running toward Haensel and
Gretel._) We thank you, we thank you both!
_Gretel._ Oh, I am so glad!
_The Children._ The spell is broken and we are free. The witch can do us
no more harm. Come, let us shout for glee!
_Haensel._
Come, children all, and form a ring,
Join hands together, while we sing.
_Gretel._ Oh, Haensel dear, I wish father and mother were here!
_Haensel._ Look, Gretel! There they are!
[_Father and Mother enter._]
_Father._ Why, mother, the children are here! Come, my dear Haensel and
Gretel! How glad I am we have found you safe and well!
_Haensel._ Oh, father, we must tell you all about the Gingerbread Witch!
_Mother._ My dear children, were you frightened?
_Gretel._ Yes, mother, I was. But, mother, Haensel comforted me, and we
said our prayers and went to sleep.
_Mother._ The good angels watched over you and brought you back! Come,
let us go to the village and take all these dear children to their
mothers. Won't they be surprised and happy to see their dear children
again?
_Father._ Come, children!
[Illustration]
KING ALFRED
PERSONS IN THE PLAY--QUEEN JUDITH, ETHELBALD, ETHELBERT, ETHELRED,
ALFRED, PEASANTS, KING'S OFFICERS
SCENE I.--_In the Castle_
_Ethelbald._ Tell us a story, lady mother.
_Ethelbert._ Yes, tell us a story.
_Ethelred._ I wish it would stop raining, so that we might take our
hawks for a hunt!
_Queen._ I have something to show you, my princes. Is not this a
beautiful book?
_Alfred._ How lovely the red velvet, and see, the clasp is of gold!
_Ethelred._ And there are jewels in the clasp!
_Queen._ It is well bound, as so precious a volume should be; but the
binding is the least valuable part of the book. Shall we look within?
_Ethelbald._ Pray show us, lady mother!
_Queen._ Observe the forms of mighty warriors, fair ladies, and royal
chiefs of the olden times in bright and glowing colors.
_Ethelbert._ How brave they look! Who are they? Tell us of them, dear
mother.
_Queen._ These pictures are beautiful and appeal to the eye, but neither
they nor the velvet and gold of the binding give the joy which is
greatest.
_Alfred._ What do you mean, dear lady mother?
_Queen._ This is a book I greatly enjoy, for it is full of the tales of
the mighty King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. You will like
to hear me read these brave stories when you are tired with your day's
work, or on rainy days when you can neither hunt nor ride. Then you know
not how to amuse yourselves and time is heavy on your hands, since you
can neither read nor play upon the musical instruments that give us so
much pleasure.
_Ethelred._ The book is so lovely. Let me take it, lady mother!
_Queen._ I would that the children of my royal husband could read the
book.
_Ethelbald._ Our father does not think much of books and music. He likes
to hunt and fight, and so do I.
_Ethelred._ And I love to hunt, but I love to hear the stories of great
kings and warriors, too.
_Alfred._ To which of us wilt thou give the book, lady mother?
_Queen._ I will bestow it on him who shall first learn how to read it.
_Alfred._ Will you really, dear mother?
_Queen._ Yes, upon the faith of a queen, I will. I will not give it to
one who cannot read it. Books are meant for the learned and not for the
ignorant. The sons of a king should cease to play with toys.
_Alfred._ May I take the book a little while?
_Queen._ Yes, you may take the precious volume, Alfred, for I know you
will not injure it, and I hope you will soon learn how to make its
wisdom your own.
_Alfred._ Thank you, lady mother. I shall study the book and learn to
read, for I wish to know all about the brave knights of Arthur's court.
SCENE II.--_Years later, when Alfred is King_
KING ALFRED, OSCAR THE EARL, ODULPH, THE EARL'S SON
_Alfred._ All the others have gone back to their homes. In no other way
can ye serve me. Wherefore do ye go about to weep and break my heart?
_Oscar._ We weep, royal Alfred, because thou hast forbidden us to share
thy fortunes; as if we were the swarm of summer flies, who follow only
while the sun shineth.
_Alfred._ My valiant Oscar, and you my faithful Odulph, listen to me. I
do not despair. The time is not ripe now for further war. Our foes the
Danes have conquered us for a time. I trust that the time will come when
we shall drive them from our land. But we must do that which seems best
for the present and seek to be more successful in the future. We must
not sit down and weep; no, this rather shall you do. Go back to your own
people and keep me in their memory. When the Dane rules most cruelly,
then rise up and cry aloud in the ears of the people, "Alfred the king
yet liveth!" Then gather the soldiers and I shall come to lead them to
victory.
_Oscar._ Thou shalt be obeyed, my royal lord. I will return to my men
and do as thou hast said. But let my son Odulph stay with thee, if only
as thy servant.
_Odulph._ Well will I serve thee, my royal lord. It is not well for the
king to fare alone.
_Alfred._ I am well content to serve myself, or even to be servant to
others, until a happier time shall come. If Odulph desires to serve me,
it shall be by bringing good tidings of your success with my people.
When the time comes that we may again fight for our country, let him
bring me the welcome message. Then we will free our country from the
Danish yoke.
_Oscar._ Farewell, my royal master, since thou wilt have it so.
_Odulph._ And may the time soon come when I shall bring the message to
thee!
_Alfred._ Farewell, my loyal friends. All will be well.
SCENE III.--_In the Peasant's Home_
KING ALFRED, PEASANT CUDRED, WIFE SWITHA
_Alfred._ Save you, good father! May a Saxon stranger, whom the Danish
robbers have made homeless, share a lodging with thy master's cattle for
the night?
_Cudred._ Wilt thou swear to me that thou art not a Dane in disguise?
_Alfred._ I say to thee, my friend, I am no Dane, but a true Saxon.
_Cudred._ Then thou shalt share the calf's crib to-night. Perchance thou
art hungry, too?
_Alfred._ To say truth, father, I have not broken my fast to-day;
neither have I had aught to drink save from these marshy streams. I
shall be right thankful for some food, even a crust of coarsest rye
bread.
_Cudred._ Rye bread, forsooth! Thou talkest of dainties indeed! Thou
wilt get nothing better than flat oaten cakes here.
_Alfred._ I have always wished to taste an oaten cake.
_Cudred._ Follow me, then, and thou shalt have thy desire. Switha,
Switha!
_Switha._ Well, I hear thee!
_Cudred._ Switha, I have brought thee home a guest who will be glad to
partake of our supper.
_Switha._ A guest! And thinkest thou I've naught better to do than broil
fish and bake cakes for all the vagabonds who roam the land?
_Cudred._ Patience, good Switha. I have not asked thee to cook for a
vagabond. This is an honest Saxon whom it will be charity to feed and
shelter for the night.
_Switha._ Let me hold the torch and see this Saxon guest. Thou lookest
like a guest of fashion, sorry fellow!
_Cudred._ Cease thy scolding talk, woman! I see by this light that our
guest hath not been used to beg for charity from such as thou. Why be so
hard of heart and by thy rude taunts make bitter the food he must
receive from our hands?
_Switha._ I have heard that charity begins at home, and I am sure we are
poor enough.
_Cudred._ Not poor enough to refuse food to the hungry, such as it is.
Here is fish, and here an oaten cake which you wish to taste.
_Alfred._ Thanks for your goodness, kind host. Indeed, I am hungry.
_Switha._ You eat like a hungry wolf.
_Alfred._ And now I am hungry no longer. I thank you both for a good
supper, and I hope you will never be sorry you have given charity to a
stranger. Now, Cudred, I shall be glad to sleep.
_Cudred._ This way, then, to the bed of straw. Now, tell me truly, art
thou not some mighty earl in disguise?
_Alfred._ I am Alfred, thy king--I know from thy goodness to me when
thou thoughtest me a beggar that thou art a good man, therefore I
confide in thee. I know thou wilt not betray thy king.
_Cudred._ Not all the gold of Denmark should tempt me to commit so base
a crime, but we must not let Switha know who thou art, my royal master.
_Alfred._ I shall be careful. Soon, I hope, my friends will bring me
word that my army awaits me, when I shall again try to set my country
free.
SCENE IV.--_In the Peasant's Hut_
KING ALFRED, SWITHA
_King Alfred._ It rains so hard to-day that I cannot hunt, so will mend
my bow and make some new arrows. May I sit by your fire, good dame
Switha?
_Switha._ Yes, and as I have made a good batch of cakes you might watch
them bake.
_Alfred._ Gladly will I watch them. Show me what I must do.
_Switha._ Turn them often before the fire, thus, so that they will not
burn. Now I will go for more wood for the fire.
_Alfred._ How long, I wonder, must I remain in hiding. It is very hard
to wait. If only I knew how my people were faring. Will the time never
come when I can rule over England and unite my people? So many plans
have I for their happiness and progress. Schools we must have. The Bible
must be translated for the people to read. Roads must be built and the
country made safe for all. How long must I sit in Cudred's cottage
mending arrows when my heart wishes to help my suffering people!
_Switha_ (_running in_). I thought I smelled them burning! Oh, thou
lazy, useless fellow! Thou art ready enough to eat the cakes, but too
lazy to keep them from burning. No wonder thou hast no home, idle as
thou art.
_Alfred._ I pray thee, good dame, forgive me. I was lost in thought of
happier days and forgot my duty. Really I am sorry.
_Switha._ Ay, ay, that is always the way with thee. That smooth tongue
of thine is better to thee than silver or gold; for it obtains for thee
food, lodging, and friends, and softens all the wrath thy faults
provoke. However, I shall set by all the burnt cakes for thy portion of
the week's bread, I promise thee; and thou shalt have no other till they
are all eaten.
_Alfred._ My good mistress, here comes a pilgrim boy to ask thy charity.
May I bestow one of these cakes on him?
_Switha._ Thou mayest do what thou wilt with thine own, man! but do not
presume to give away my property to idle fellows like thyself.
_Alfred._ But, mistress, may I not give him that which was to have been
my portion for dinner?
_Switha._ No, indeed! I have enough to do with feeding one vagrant
without adding all the lazy pilgrims who pass by.
_Alfred._ See, mistress, my amulet! I will give thee this jewel, Switha,
if thou wilt permit me to feed this poor pilgrim.
_Switha._ Very well, then. Give him thy portion while I go and hide the
jewel.
[_Goes out as Odulph enters._]
_Alfred._ Welcome, Odulph! Tell me thy tidings. I hunger for good news.
_Odulph._ My tidings, royal Alfred, are these: Hubba, the Dane, the
terror of England, is slain, and his banner of the Raven waves in my
father's hall!
_Alfred._ What? Is thy father's castle in the possession of the Danes?
_Odulph._ Not so, my royal master; but the banner of the Danes, captured
by your victorious Saxons, hangs in his hall. We were pent up in the
castle by the Danes till our provisions failed. When the last loaf was
eaten, and our archers had launched their last arrows, my valiant father
led the garrison in an attack upon the foe.
_Alfred._ Brave Oscar! And you defeated them!
_Odulph._ Yes, because of the carelessness of the Danes. They believed
they had us in their power, and they never dreamed we would leave the
castle walls. Few as we were, we fell upon them and slew their chiefs.
The soldiers fled, and left our men victorious. Then my father raised
the cry, "Alfred the king!" All the country is calling, "Alfred the
king!"
_Alfred._ The time is ripe. I thank you, Odulph. Your father is a noble
man, and I shall know how to show a king's gratitude to you both. Shall
we go?
_Odulph._ Lead on, King Alfred, England is ready. Soon you shall head
your army shouting, "Long live King Alfred!"
ROBIN HOOD AND THE SAD KNIGHT
PERSONS IN THE PLAY--ROBIN HOOD, LITTLE JOHN, MIDGE, WILL SCARLET, THE
ABBOT, THE KNIGHT, THE PRIOR, THE LORD CHIEF JUSTICE, THE LADY
SCENE I.--_In the Greenwood._
[_Robin Hood and his men making arrows._]
_Robin Hood._ This feather is too short. Give me another, Little John.
This is a better one.
_Midge._ Making arrows is not a simple thing, is it, my master?
_Robin Hood._ Indeed, no; if the feathers be too short, the arrows will
not keep true to their course; and if the feathers be too long, the
arrows will not fly swiftly.
_Little John._ If all men knew how to make arrows, their skill in
shooting would seem greater. Look to your arrows, say I, before you
shoot.
_Will Scarlet._ We should thank the gray goose for the even growth of
her feathers, which carries our arrows straight to the mark.
_Robin Hood._ First the strong bow that bends to our hand, then the
straight arrow, tough and trim, and the feathers that wing it to its
mark. But best of all the steady hand and keen eye that direct our
winged shaft. But you have worked well this morning, my men, and now we
may rest awhile. Sing us a song, Will Scarlet, while we lie beneath the
friendly oak.
_Will Scarlet_ (_sings_).
The hunt is up! the hunt is up!
And it is well-nigh day;
And Harry our king has gone hunting
To bring his deer to bay.
The east is bright with morning light,
And darkness, it is fled;
And the merry horn wakes up the morn
To leave his idle bed.
Awake, all men! I say again
Be merry as you may!
For Harry our king is gone hunting
To bring the deer to bay.
_Little John._ This song is well enough in its way, but for me, I should
much prefer a good dinner. The morning's work has given me a fine
appetite and I long for food.
_Robin Hood._ It is good to eat, but not before we find some rich
traveler to pay the bill. Ride out, my man, and find us a host. Willing
or unwilling, bid him come.
_Little John._ With right good will, my master; and may I soon meet with
him!
_Robin Hood._ Remember well, no farmer shall you bring. He works for
what he gets and shall live in peace. And the laborer who toils for wife
and child you must not harm. Only those who oppress the poor and weak,
those who are selfish and unkind, who play while others weep, these
shall you bring to me.
_Will Scarlet._ But look, my master, what sorrowing knight rides there?
His garments are rich and his horse gayly decked, but his countenance is
sad and he rides slowly, careless of the way.
_Little John._ Hail, gentle knight; my master awaits you and fain would
have your company at dinner.
_The Knight._ At dinner,--in the wood! Who is your master?
_Little John._ Robin Hood is he: and here he is to bid you welcome.
_Robin Hood._ Welcome, Sir Knight, thrice welcome art thou, for I have
fasted beyond the dinner hour. Pray you, dismount.
_The Knight._ God save you and all your company!
_Midge._ The dinner is served, my master.
_Robin Hood._ Will you join us, Sir Knight? Here are pheasants and swans
and meat of the deer.
_The Knight._ Such a good dinner, with so many brave men, I have not
eaten for many a day. If I come again to this country, I will make thee
as good a dinner. But Heaven knows when that will be!
[Illustration]
_Robin Hood._ Thanks for your kind offer. But in the greenwood our
guests must pay for their food. A yeoman does not pay for a rich knight!
_The Knight._ Sorry am I that you must call me poor. I would that I
could pay you, but in my saddlebags are no more than ten shillings.
_Robin Hood._ Is that indeed the truth, Sir Knight? Look carefully,
Little John; if the knight speaks truly, he shall keep the ten
shillings, but if not--
_Little John._ Indeed, my master, the knight speaks truly, for this is
all the money I can find.
_Robin Hood._ How comes it, noble knight, that thou art so poor? Come,
tell me the story. Mayhap I can help thee.
_The Knight._ I am Sir Richard of Lea, and my ancestors have been
knights for a hundred years. A year ago I had plenty of money to spend
as I would. But now I have nothing for my wife and my children, who weep
for my absence from them.
_Robin Hood._ But how did you lose all your money?
_The Knight._ Perhaps you will think I lost it in a foolish way. My son,
whom I dearly love, is a manly youth. Well can he shoot and joust fairly
in the field. But once, in a quarrel, he slew a youth, and to save him,
I pledged all my lands. Unless I redeem them by All Saints Day I shall
lose them all.
_Robin Hood._ What is the sum you are bound to pay?
_The Knight._ Four hundred pounds. The day is near and I have nothing.
_Robin Hood._ But what canst thou do if thou losest thy land? What wilt
thou do?
_The Knight._ I will sail far away over the seas. I cannot remain in
England.
_Robin Hood._ It is a small sum. Hast thou no friends to help thee in
thy need?
_The Knight._ Many friends had I when I had money and lands. Now when I
need their help they turn away and know me not.
_Robin Hood._ By my faith, gentle knight, thou shalt not want for a
friend. Little John, go to the chest and count out four hundred pounds.
_Will Scarlet._ Shall he not have cloth for a coat, gentle master? He is
thinly clad.
_Robin Hood._ Well said, Will Scarlet; go, get three measures of every
kind, that he may be warmly and gayly clad.
_Little John._ Here is the money, Robin Hood, and good measure.
_Robin Hood._ And what will you give, Little John, who are so generous
with my money?
_Little John._ A pair of golden spurs, that he may ride fast to his
castle and redeem his lands.
_The Knight._ Many thanks, Little John, and to you, my good friend. Tell
me, Robin Hood, when shall I come to return the money you so kindly lend
me?
_Robin Hood._ This day twelvemonth; and a happy year may it be! We will
meet under this trysting tree. Till then, be merry!
_The Knight._ I shall be with you a year from to-day. Farewell.
SCENE II.--_In the Abbot's Hall_
THE ABBOT, THE PRIOR
_The Abbot._ This day a year ago Sir Richard Lea borrowed four hundred
pounds from me. He promised to pay in a year or lose his land. If he
does not return to-day, the land will be mine.
_The Prior._ The day is now far spent. Perhaps he will come yet.
_The Abbot._ I am sure I hope he will not. I trust he has left England.
_The Prior._ The land is worth much more than four hundred pounds. It
were a pity if he did not redeem it.
_The Abbot._ Thou art ever crossing me! Speak no more about it! Where
is the Lord Justice?
[Illustration]
_Lord Justice_ (_enters_). Here I am. I have just come from London to do
justice on that Knight. Where is he?
_The Abbot._ The Knight has failed to come with the money and this is
the day when the land falls to me.
_Lord Justice._ I dare swear he will not come and thou shalt have his
lands. I now declare that the knight, Sir Richard Lea, has failed to
keep his promise and his lands are--
_The Knight_ (_entering and kneeling before the Abbot_). Rejoice with
me, Sir Abbot. I am come to keep my day.
_The Abbot._ What dost thou say? Hast brought the money?
_The Knight_ (_to try the Abbot_). Not a penny, but--
_The Abbot._ What dost thou here without the money?
_The Knight._ To ask your kindness and patience, Sir Abbot, for a longer
time.
_Lord Justice._ The day has come. Thou losest thy land, Sir Knight,
since thou canst not pay.
_The Knight._ Good Lord Justice, help me against my foes! I will surely
pay, but must have more time.
_Lord Justice._ I am sorry for thee, Sir Richard, but the law is plain.
Either pay your debt or lose your land.
_The Knight._ Sir Abbot, I pray thee, have pity.
_The Abbot._ Get the land when thou canst, thou gettest no pity from me.
_The Knight._ By my faith, then, if I get not my land again, thou shalt
pay dearly for it.
_The Abbot._ Get thee gone, false knight! Darest thou threaten me?
_The Knight._ False knight I am not, for I have fought well for my king.
_Lord Justice._ Sir Abbot, the day is not yet gone. What wilt thou give
the knight to hold his peace?
_The Abbot._ A hundred pounds.
_Lord Justice._ Make it two hundred.
_The Knight._ No, nor nine hundred. Ye shall not have my land! Here, Sir
Abbot, are the four hundred pounds. Had you been less covetous, I would
have given interest. Now, get you gone, all of you; and learn to deal
more justly and kindly with those in need. [_They go out._]
_Lady Lea_ (_entering_). Oh, my dear husband! how glad I am to hear your
voice again.
_The Knight._ Happy am I to see you and to be at home again. I must tell
you how kind Robin Hood has been to me.
_Lady Lea._ Robin Hood your friend? Is he not the outlaw of the forest?
_The Knight._ Yes; but he is kind to all who are unhappy or oppressed.
He saved me from leaving England and gave me money to redeem my land.
_Lady Lea._ How I long to thank him for his goodness to you.
_The Knight._ In a year we will go to him and repay the four hundred
pounds.
_Lady Lea._ I shall be glad to see him and his merry men, and try to
thank them all.
WILLIAM TELL
A STORY OF SWITZERLAND. A.D. 1307
PERSONS IN THE PLAY--WILLIAM TELL; LEWIS, HIS SON; ALBERT, HIS SON;
ANNETTE, HIS WIFE; LALOTTE, HIS NIECE, GESSLER, SOLDIERS
SCENE I.--_At Tell's Home_
_Albert._ Lewis, doesn't the quail smell good?
_Lewis._ Yes, I wish I could have some of it!
_Lalotte._ Hush! the quail is for your father.
_Albert._ I know that, Lalotte; but I am hungry, and I like quail.
_Lalotte._ Your father will be cold and hungry, for he has been on a
long journey.
_Albert._ But perhaps he will not come. Mother, mother! may we have the
quail if father is late? It is done now, and it will not be good if it
is cooked any more.
_Lalotte._ Hush, you greedy boy! If I were your mother, I would send
you to bed for thinking of such a thing.
_Albert._ You are not the mistress. You are not the mistress, and I
shall not go to bed because you say so!
_William Tell_ (_at door_). But you shall go to bed, young man, if your
Cousin Lalotte tells you to do so. Take them to bed, Lalotte.
_Albert._ Oh, father! We were only joking.
_Lewis._ Please, father, don't send us to bed.
_William Tell._ I must, my boy, because it is late, and I have news for
your mother. Good night, my sons.
_Boys._ Good night, dear father.
[_They go out with Lalotte._]
_William Tell._ Thy father's news is not for young ears.
_Annette._ There is a sadness in thy voice, and trouble in thy face!
Tell me what has happened to thee! Wilt thou not trust me?
_William Tell._ Yes, my Annette! Thou hast ever been a good wife and
faithful friend. Why should I conceal my deeds from thee?
_Annette._ What hast thou done, my husband?
_William Tell._ Perhaps thou wilt blame me.
_Annette._ Nay, for thou art a good man, and whatever thou doest is
right in my eyes.
_William Tell._ Thou knowest how our foreign rulers oppress the good
people of Switzerland?
_Annette._ I do, but why should we poor peasants worry over the affairs
of the nobles?
_William Tell._ But they are our troubles, too. So to-night I have met
with three and thirty men, brave and loyal hearts, who have sworn to
resist our oppressors and free our land from tyranny.
_Annette._ But how can three-and-thirty men think to conquer the armies
of foreign tyrants?
_William Tell._ Sometimes great events are brought about by small means.
All the people in their hearts hate the false ruler of our poor country,
and many of these will willingly die for her sake.
_Annette._ Thou art brave, my husband, but what can so few do?
_William Tell._ Think of it! The father of one of our band has just been
put to a cruel death. No man knows where the tyrant will strike next.
Perhaps Gessler will pick me out for the next victim.
_Annette._ Thee! What charge could he bring against thee?
_William Tell._ He could say that I am the friend of my country, which
in the tyrant Gessler's mind is a crime.
_Annette._ But Gessler will never hear of us, humble peasants. He is too
far above us to care what we think.
_William Tell._ Not so, my dear wife. Gessler will not permit us to
hold our thoughts in secret. He has a plan to discover our inmost
thoughts.
_Annette._ What plan can he make to read our minds?
_William Tell._ A clever plan to tell a freeman from a slave. In
Altdorf, our capital city, he has set up a pole. Upon the top of this
pole he has put the cap of the Austrian king and has ordered every man
to take off his hat as he passes by, to show that he yields to the
Austrian rule. Is not this a brave plan? He who obeys the tyrant is a
slave. Wouldst thou have thy husband doff his cap to his country's
tyrant?
_Annette._ Never! I should despise thee, couldst thou do it!
_William Tell._ That is my own brave wife! Thou speakest as a free
woman, the mother of free children, should speak. And our children shall
be free! When I go to Altdorf I shall refuse to obey the order of
Gessler and all Switzerland shall know that William Tell will not bow to
a foreign tyrant.
_Annette._ But why go to Altdorf, my husband? Thou knowest the power of
Gessler and his cruelty!
_William Tell._ Wouldst have me a coward? No, dear wife. When my
business calls me to Altdorf I shall go and in all ways act as a free
man, loyal to my country and afraid of no one.
_Annette._ Thou art a brave man, my husband, and I honor thee.
SCENE II.--_Altdorf: The Market place_
WILLIAM TELL, ALBERT, SOLDIERS, GESSLER
_William Tell._ Come, my son, I have sold the chamois skins, and now I
must buy the things your mother wished me to get for her.
_Albert._ And, father, please buy some toys for little Lewis.
_William Tell._ You are a good boy, Albert, to remember your little
brother. We will go to the shop across the square and look there for
toys.
_Soldier._ Halt, man! Salute yonder cap!
_William Tell._ Why should I salute a cap of cloth?
_Soldier._ It is the cap of our emperor. If you do not honor the cap,
you are a traitor.
_William Tell._ I am no traitor, and yet I will not bow down to an empty
cap. I am a true Swiss and love my country.
_Gessler._ Ha, ha! Then we have a traitor here who will not yield to our
emperor! Arrest him, my men; and we will teach him his manners. Who is
this man?
_Soldier._ His name is William Tell, my lord.
_Gessler._ Insolent traitor! Bind him well.
_Albert._ Oh, father, I am afraid. Do not let the soldiers take me.
_William Tell._ Be calm, my son. No harm will come to thee.
_Gessler._ Indeed, and is this your son? Has he come to mock the cap of
our royal master, too? Seize the boy and bind him to yonder tree.
_William Tell._ What will you do with the boy? Does a captain war with a
child?
_Gessler._ We shall see. I hear you are a famous shot, William Tell, and
handle well the bow and arrow. We shall soon know your skill. Have you a
good arrow in your quiver? Perhaps you can shoot an apple from the head
of your child.
_Soldier._ Where shall I bind the boy, my captain?
_Gessler._ To yonder tree. If his father shoots the apple from his
child's head, he shall go free. If he fails he must die. Are you ready?
_William Tell._ Rather would I die than risk killing my eldest son. Let
him go, and take my life.
_Gessler._ That I shall not do. You must both die unless you save your
lives as I have said. Will you try the shot or are you afraid?
[Illustration]
_William Tell._ Bind the boy's eyes, I beg. He might move if he saw the
arrow coming, and my skill would be in vain.
_Gessler._ I am willing, for well I know you cannot cleave the apple at
that distance.
_William Tell._ Tyrant! I cannot fail now, when my son's life depends
upon me. Stand perfectly still, my brave boy, and father will not hurt
you. Now I pray for strength--my trusty arrow must not fail me! There!
[_He shoots._]
_Soldier._ See, my captain! The apple is split! That was a fine shot!
_Gessler._ Yes, it was a good shot, and I did not believe anyone could
make it. I suppose I must set you free. But why have you that other
arrow in your hand?
_William Tell._ To shoot you with it had I killed my darling boy.
_Gessler._ Seize him, my men!
_William Tell._ Never! Come, Albert! This arrow for him who stops me!
_Soldiers._ He has escaped!
TIME AND THE SEASONS
_Father Time._ I must call my children together and give them orders for
the New Year. Open the door, my servants, and let the Seasons appear.
_Spring_ (_entering_). Here I am, Father Time. What are your commands
for your youngest daughter?
_Father Time._ Welcome, my dainty Spring! It is your duty to call the
gentle rains to fall upon the thirsting ground. Yours is the pleasant
task to paint the blades of young grass a delicate green. You call the
birds back from the south and rouse all nature from her winter sleep.
The winds blow freshly over the earth; the clouds move here and there,
bringing the rain; and the bulbs, hidden under the soil, slowly push
their leaves into the sunlight. What flowers will you bring to deck
the earth?
[Illustration: TIME AND THE SEASONS]
_Spring._ O Father Time! Look here upon my pretty flowers! Here is the
snowdrop, so white and brave. It pushes its head up through the snow,
which is no whiter than its own petals. And here I have a bunch of
crocuses, blue, yellow, white, and of many colors. Aren't they pretty
amid the grass? Then the gorgeous tulips, holding their heads so high,
making the earth brilliant with their gay, bright colors. I think the
golden daffodils and sweet narcissus are my favorite flowers, though I
am very fond of what the children call spring beauty.
_Father Time._ I see, my daughter, that you love all your flower
children, and that is right. All are beautiful, each in its own way. And
now tell me what joys do you bring to the little children of the earth?
_Spring._ All the children love me. They hunt for the first flowers,
they welcome the first birds returning from the south, and they prepare
the garden for the seeds of flowers and vegetables. The boys play
marbles everywhere, and run and laugh, filling their lungs with my
life-giving air. The organ grinder plays for the children and they dance
on the sidewalks, singing and calling out in delight. The trees put
forth their tender leaves. The sun fills the air with golden warmth, and
the world seems full of promise.
_Father Time._ Well done, my daughter. And now, my daughter Summer, tell
me your plans for the year.
_Summer._ Dear father, I delay my coming until Spring has prepared the
way. The air must be soft and warm to please me, and the earth must be
prepared by the rains and the warm rays of the sun. The colors of my
flowers are deeper and richer than those of sister Spring. I bring the
lilies, the peonies, and the poppies. Best of all, the glowing roses
open at my call, and fill the air with perfume.
_Father Time._ And the children, my fair daughter, what do you bring to
them?
_Summer._ The dear children! I think they all like my sunny days and the
long time for play. For July and August in many countries are given to
the school children for their play time. Then they go to the seashore
and play in the water and the sand; or to the country, where the green
grass, the farmyard animals, and all the country games delight them.
_Father Time._ Children are so fond of play and the long summer days
out-of-doors that I wonder what they think of you, my older daughter,
Autumn?
_Autumn._ Children do like to play and I am glad they get so well and
strong with the vacation my sister, Summer, gives them. Yet all children
like to learn, too. We must not forget that. What joy it is to read the
beautiful stories that great men and women have written for them. What
delight they have in learning to write, to sing, to draw, and to make
pretty objects of paper, clay, and wood.
_Father Time._ Yes, that is true, but have you no pleasures out-of-doors
for them?
_Autumn._ Some people say my days are the most pleasant of the year. The
gardens have many beautiful flowers, and the fruits are ripening in the
orchards and vineyards. The apples hang red on the boughs, and children
like to pick them and eat them, too! I have the harvest moon, the time
when the farmers bring home the crops ripened by August suns, and the
earth seems to gather the results of the year's work, the riches of
field, orchard, and meadow. The squirrels gather their hoard of nuts and
hide them away for their winter's food. Gay voices of nutting parties
are heard in the woods, and all the air is filled with songs of praise
and thanksgiving for the bounty of the year.
_Father Time._ Your work is surely one of worth and I rejoice with you,
my daughter, in your happiness. You are a true friend of men, showing
them that honest effort and its work will always bring proper reward.
Now, my merry laughing child, what have you to tell us?
_Winter._ Some people think I am your oldest daughter, Father Time, but
they forget that two of my months are always in the New Year. Although
my hair and garments are white, the cold is only outside; my heart is
warm. Have I not jolly St. Nicholas who never grows old? I cover the
earth with my warmest blanket of softest snow, softer and whiter than
ermine, and all the tender flowers sleep cozily and warm until sweet
Spring awakes them. The children get out their sleds and skates, and the
merry sleigh bells ring. What fun it is to build the snow man, and even
if the hands get cold, the eyes shine brighter than in warm days and the
cheeks are rosy as the reddest flower. "Hurrah for Winter!" shout the
boys. The merriest holidays I have when all hearts are gay and filled
with loving care for others. I would not change, dear Father Time, with
any of my sisters. I say good-by to the passing year and welcome the new
year. If the old year has had troubles and sorrows, all the people turn
with hope to the new, and call to one another the wish, "A Happy New
Year to all!"
_Father Time._ I am glad you are contented with the work you have to do.
And now, my daughters, I must send you out upon your travels all over
the world. May your coming bring peace; joy, and prosperity to all
mankind!
THE GINGERBREAD MAN
PERSONS IN THE PLAY--THE LITTLE OLD WOMAN, THE GINGERBREAD MAN, THE BOY,
THE FOX, CHILDREN, MEN, THE FARMER
SCENE.--_Home of Little Old Woman_
_Little Old Woman._ Now all my housework is done I think I will make
some gingerbread. There is nothing quite so good for lunch as warm
gingerbread and a glass of milk, or a cup of hot tea. I can make pretty
good gingerbread, too, all of my friends say. Here is the flour and
butter and molasses and milk. Now it is all ready to put into the pan.
But I made too much this time. What shall I do with it? Nothing must be
wasted in a good cook's kitchen. Oh, I know! I'll make a cunning
gingerbread man for the little boy who lives next door.
Where is my knife? Now roll the dough very thin, cut out the round
little head, then the neck, now the two arms, now the little fat body,
and last the legs with high heels on the shoes. Well, this certainly is
a fine little gingerbread man. I think I'll make a little hat with a
wide brim. Now I'll put two currants for his eyes, two for his nose,
three for his cute little mouth, and six for the buttons on his coat.
Then I'll sprinkle sugar and cinnamon over him and put him in the oven
to bake.
Let me look at the clock. It is half past eleven. At twelve the
gingerbread man will be baked, ready for the little boy when he comes
home from school.
Well, I've washed the dishes, and set the table for my lunch, and it is
now just twelve o'clock. I'll open the oven door and see if my
gingerbread man is ready.
Oh! what was that! Why, it is the gingerbread man!
_Gingerbread Man._ Yes, it is the gingerbread man, and now I'll go and
see the world.
_Little Old Woman._ Go! you mustn't go! You belong to me.
_Gingerbread Man._
Ah, ha! ah, ha! catch me, if you can!
You can't catch me, I'm a gingerbread man!
_Little Old Woman._ There he goes, out of the door, just as if he were
really a little boy, and not made of something good to eat! Come back;
come back!
_Gingerbread Man._
Ah, ha! ah, ha! catch me, if you can!
You can't catch me, I'm a gingerbread man!
_Little Old Woman._ I know I can't run as fast as he can. There he goes
out of the gate. There are some men who are working in the street. I'll
ask them to catch him. Help! help me catch the gingerbread man!
_Men._ Yes, ma'am. Where is he? Oh, there he is, the little rascal!
We'll catch him.
_Gingerbread Man._
Ah, ha! ah, ha! catch me, if you can!
You can't catch me, I'm a gingerbread man!
_Men._ Well, there he goes and he does run fast! Come, let us run after
him!
_Little Old Woman._ Oh, I know the men can't run as fast as he can, and
they will never catch my gingerbread man! Here are the children coming
from school. I'll call them. Children, children!
_Children._ Yes, little old woman, here we are. What did you call us
for?
_Little Old Woman._ Oh, my dear children, see the gingerbread man I made
for the little boy next door! There he goes running as fast as he can,
and I can't catch him!
_Boy._ And the men are running after him, and they can't catch him
either. Just watch me, little woman, I'll catch him for you.
_Gingerbread Man._
Ah, ha! ah, ha! catch me, if you can!
You can't catch me, I'm a gingerbread man.
_Girl._ I have my roller skates on. Perhaps I can catch him!
_Little Old Woman._ I'm sure you can, my child.
_Girl._ I'll try. Look out, Mr. Gingerbread Man!
_Gingerbread Man._
Ah, ha! ah, ha! catch me, if you can!
You can't catch me, I'm a gingerbread man!
_Little Old Woman._ There he goes, and none of them can catch him. Now
he is near some farmers. I'll call on them to help me. Farmer, farmer,
will you please help me catch the gingerbread man? There he goes over
your wheat field.
_Farmer._ Yes, indeed, we'll help you. Here, you gingerbread man, keep
out of my wheat field! Come, men; run after him and catch him.
_Men._ We'll catch him before he gets to the fence.
[Illustration]
_Gingerbread Man._
Ah, ha! ah, ah! catch me, if you can!
You can't catch me, I'm a gingerbread man!
_Little Old Woman._ Oh, dear! Oh, dear! there he goes into the wood, and
no one can run fast enough to catch him.
_Farmer._ I'm sorry, madam, but we must go back to our work on the farm.
_Boy._ Hark! listen! don't you hear the little gingerbread man calling?
_Gingerbread Man._
Ah, ha! ah, ha! catch me, if you can!
You can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread man!
_Little Old Woman._ Yes, he is calling to us from the wood. I thank you,
children, and now we will go home.
_Gingerbread Man_ (_in the wood_). Ah, ha! and they didn't catch me! and
now I am free to play in the wood. What a pleasant place!
_Mr. Fox._ Well, what sort of a funny little man is this?
_Gingerbread Man._
Ah, ha! ah, ha! catch me, if you can!
You can't catch me, I'm a gingerbread man!
_Mr. Fox._ Can't I? Well, I _have_ caught you; and now let me see if you
are good to eat. First, I'll try one of your arms. That tastes good!
_Gingerbread Man._ I'm going!
_Mr. Fox._ And now the other arm!
_Gingerbread Man._ I'm going!
_Mr. Fox._ Now for the leg.
_Gingerbread Man._ I'm going!
_Mr. Fox._ Really, Mr. Gingerbread Man, I think you are very good eating
for a hungry fox. Now I'll taste the other leg.
_Gingerbread Man._ I'm going!
_Mr. Fox._ Now for your round little body.
_Gingerbread Man._ I'm going!
_Mr. Fox._ There is not very much left. Just your head for the last
mouthful.
_Gingerbread Man._ I'm gone!
_Mr. Fox._ Yes, you're gone; and a very nice meal, Mr. Gingerbread Man.
THE GOOD FAIRY
SCENE I.--_In the Wood_
_The Good Fairy._ At last I am in this wood where I must save the Lady
Alice from danger. How dark it seems here after the bright light of my
skyey home. Surely I shall be glad to return to the courts of fairyland.
Yet it is pleasant to be of service to the young and innocent, to those
who are good and true. Some there are on earth who do not love the
truth, who do not do the things that are honest and kind, and they must
be punished. Kind and gentle deeds must be rewarded with our help.
Here in this dark grove dwells Comus, an evil spirit, who loves not the
good. Here he finds the unlucky traveler and takes him to his court.
There he offers him food and a pleasant drink. But in the glass is a
potion which drives memory from the mind and makes one forget home and
friends. Then the unhappy traveler loses his human head and must have
the head of some animal or bird. Comus enjoys seeing his victims act
like wild and foolish animals or the forest.
In this dangerous wood the Lady Alice and her brothers are wandering,
and my duty it is to protect them from the evil Comus. Hark! I think I
hear the noisy band. Here will I hide and listen.
[_Comus and his crew enter; men and women with animal heads._]
_Comus._ Now the sun has gone from the western heavens and the star of
night shines over us. This is the hour we love the best. All the
serious, wise old people who love the day and its work are weary now and
have gone to bed. We who love fun and a merry dance, we wake when the
sky is flecked with golden stars. Now the moon calls the fairies from
brook and fountain to play their merry games and sing. These are the
joys of night in our dark and secret grove. Come, make a merry ring and
dance. No care have we nor fear. We will dance and sing until the first
ray of light is seen in the east.
[_They dance until Comus speaks._]
_Comus._ Break off! break off! I hear a footstep not our own approaching
this place. Run to your places lest you frighten the traveler whoever it
may be.
[_They disappear._]
I believe some maiden approaches. I will weave my spells and appear to
her in the dress of a shepherd and she will not be afraid. Here she
comes. I will step aside and learn how she happens to be alone in my
grove.
[_Comus hides._]
_Lady Alice_ (_entering_). I thought I heard the sound of noisy
merrymaking,--with music as if many were dancing. Here was the sound,
but here I see no one. Alas! I should be sorry to meet rude youths, but
where can I go, what can I do, left alone in this dark and gloomy wood?
O my brothers, where are you? When they saw me wearied, unable to go
farther, they left to find me nourishment and shelter, promising soon to
return. Truly they must be lost in this vast forest. O dark night, why
have you stolen the way from them and left me alone and helpless?
Helpless? No, not helpless, for the good mind has helpers ever present
in pure-eyed Faith and white-handed Hope. I will pray to God, who will
send me a guardian to guide me to my home. What is that light I see? My
brothers seek me and I will sing to them. Perhaps they are not far away
and will hear my voice.
Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen
Within thy airy shell,
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair
That likest thy Narcissus are?
O if thou have
Hid them in some flowery cave,
Tell me but where,
Sweet Queen of Parley, Daughter of the Sphere!
_Comus_ (_to himself_). What sweet song is this? Can any mortal sing
with such charm and beauty? Such sacred and home-felt delight I never
heard till now. I'll speak to her, and she shall be my queen.
_Comus_ (_dressed as a shepherd_). Hail, fair goddess! for you must be
more than mortal, to sing such sweet and wondrous strain.
_Lady Alice._ Nay, gentle shepherd. I sang not as loving my own voice,
and praise is lost that falls on unattending ears. Stern necessity
compelled my song.
_Comus._ How comes it, Lady, that you are thus alone?
_Lady Alice._ My brothers left me upon a grassy turf. Darkness came
upon the grove, and I fear they are lost.
[Illustration]
_Comus._ Were they men full grown or still young?
_Lady Alice._ Young and fair my brothers are.
_Comus._ Two such I saw, so lovely in their youthful grace I thought I
looked upon some fairy scene. If these are the lads you seek, we can
easily find them.
_Lady Alice._ Gentle villager, quickly tell me the shortest way to them!
_Comus._ Due west it lies.
_Lady Alice._ To find it out, good shepherd, would be too difficult in
this darkness to a stranger.
_Comus._ I know every step, fair lady, for I live close by and daily
tread the path in caring for my sheep. Gladly will I conduct you and
find your brothers if they are still in this grove. Till daybreak you
can rest in a cottage near by, where you will be safe until you wish to
travel on.
_Lady Alice._ Kind shepherd, I take your word, and gladly go to the
shelter you mention. Kindness is often found in lowly homes. Lead on,
and I will follow.
_Comus._ This way, fair lady!
SCENE II.--_Another Place in the Forest_
_Elder Brother._ How our steps are stayed by the darkness of the night
and of the forest. Would that the moon and stars would pierce the
clouds! If only we could see some faint glimmer of a candle in some
lowly hut that would guide us on our way.
_Second Brother._ Or hear the folded flocks, or sound of village flute
or song, or if the cock would crow the watches of the night! Where can
our dear sister be now? Does she wander in the deep grove, or against
the rugged bark of some broad elm lean her head in fear? Perhaps even
while we speak she is the prey of some savage beast!
_Elder Brother._ Cease, brother, to dream of evils that may not be. No
good can come from false alarms. I do not believe my good sister has
lost herself in fear. Her faith will keep her calm.
_Second Brother._ I do not fear the darkness and the fact that she is
alone. But I do fear some harm may come to her from rude wanderers in
the wood.
_Elder Brother._ Yet I believe she is so good and true that evil has no
power to harm her. All powers of good surround her and drive evil away.
But list! Some faint call sounds on my ear.
_Second Brother._ Yes, I hear it now. What should it be?
_Elder Brother._ Either some one lost in this wood, like ourselves, or
else some roving woodman, or perhaps some robber calling to his fellows!
_Second Brother._ God save my sister!
_Elder Brother._ Who comes here? Speak! Advance no further!
_Spirit_ (_as a shepherd_). What voice is that? Speak once again.
_Second Brother._ O brother! 'tis my father's shepherd, sure.
_Elder Brother._ Are you Thyrsis? How could you find this dark,
secluded spot? Why did you come?
_Spirit._ To find out you. But where is your lovely sister? Why is she
not with you?
_Elder Brother._ Without our fault we lost her as we came.
_Spirit._ Alas, then my fears are true!
_Elder Brother._ What fears, good Thyrsis?
_Spirit._ I have long known that this wood was held in the power of an
evil spirit, and this evening as I sat me down upon a bank I heard most
lovely strains as if an angel sang. Listening, I knew it was your
sister's voice. I hastened to her and heard her tell Comus of you whom
she had lost. To you I came that we may save her from the evil spirit of
the wood.
_Elder Brother._ Let us hasten to attack him with our swords.
_Spirit._ Alas! Your bravery I praise, but it is vain. The evil charm
of Comus can be broken only by a wondrous plant. See, I have it here.
With this will we overcome his fairy spells.
_Elder Brother._ Thyrsis, lead on! And some good angel bear a shield
before us!
SCENE III.--_The Palace of Comus_
_Comus._ Drink, Lady, of the wine. You are faint and weary, and this
will refresh you. Do not refuse!
_Lady Alice._ Never will I drink the potion in that glass. You may
control the body, but my free mind you can never bind.
_Comus._ Why are you angry, Lady? Here is a place filled with all
delight.
_Lady Alice._ Is this the cottage you told me of, the place of safety
where I could rest. None but good men can offer good things. I will
never drink what you offer. What monsters are these? I pray Heaven guard
me!
[Illustration]
_Comus._ Dear Lady, stay with me and be my queen. Here may you reign
over all my kingdom. See what royal robes are mine, what jewels, what
costly tables and shining gold and silver. No sorrow shall you know,
but only joy and pleasure.
_Lady Alice._ Cease your words. You cannot move the mind guided by
honesty and truth. You cannot frighten me, for well I know goodness is
stronger than evil, truth is more powerful than falsehood. The pure
heart cannot be harmed.
_Comus._ Cease, cease! all this is foolishness. Be wise and taste. All
trouble will be forgotten. Come, I insist!
[_The brothers rush in and drive Comus and his crew away. But Lady Alice
is entranced and cannot move._]
_Spirit._ Have you let him escape? You should have seized his wand.
Without that he has no power, but now we must have help to release your
sister from his wicked power. The goddess of our river Severn, the
lovely Sabrina, has power over all the enchantments of Comus. Her will I
call.
Sabrina fair,
Listen, where thou art sitting,
Goddess of the silver lake,
Listen and save.
Come from your home in the coral caves of the sea and help this lovely
maiden in distress.
_Sabrina_ (_entering_).
From off the waters fleet,
Thus I set my printless feet
O'er the cowslip's velvet head
That bends not as I tread;
Gentle swain, at thy request
I am here!
_Spirit._ Dear goddess, we implore your powerful aid to undo the charm
wrought by the enchanter on this maiden.
_Sabrina._ 'Tis my greatest joy to help the pure and good. Gentle Lady,
look on me. Thrice upon thy finger tips, thrice upon thy lips, I
sprinkle drops from my pure fountain. Then I touch this marble seat and
break the spell. All is well. Farewell.
_Spirit._ Fair Sabrina, for this aid I pray that all the pretty rills
will never cease to flow into your broad river. May your banks ever be
fair with groves and meadows sweet, while all men shall praise you for
your gentle deeds. Farewell. Now, Lady, let us hasten from this grove.
Your parents await their dear children, and we must hasten ere they
become alarmed over your delay. Thanks to your pure heart and the aid of
the fair Sabrina, you have come safely through the enchanter's wood.
* * * * *
Transcriber's note
The following change has been made to the text:
Page 25: "Dolly" changed to "Dollie".