"Now that Lady Ana
Walks in garden sweet,
Gathering the roses
Whose dew is on her feet,
Butterfly, butterfly,
Can you catch us? Try it, try!"
With this the circle breaks and scatters, while Butterfly, blinded as
she is by the folds of her own skirt wrapped about her head, does her
best to overtake some one, who shall then become her successor.
Many of the games are simplicity itself. Often the play is merely a
circle dance, sometimes ending in a sudden kneeling or sitting on the
ground, One of the songs accompanying this dance runs:--
"Potatoes and salt must little folks eat,
While the grown-up people dine
Off lemons and chestnuts and oranges sweet,
With cocoanut milk for wine.
On the ground do we take our seat,
We're at your feet, we're at your feet."
Sometimes a line of children will form across the street and run, hand
in hand, down its length, singing:--
"We have closed the street
And no one may pass,
Only my grandpa
Leading his ass
Laden with oranges
Fresh from the trees.
Tilin! Tilin!
Down on our knees!
Tilin! Tilin! Tilin! Tilin!
The holy bell of San Agustin!"
A play for four weans, training them early to the "eternal Spanish
contradiction," consists in holding a handkerchief by its four
corners, while one of them sings:--
"Pull and slacken!
I've lost my treasure store.
Pull and slacken!
I'm going to earn some more.
_Slacken!_"
And at this, the other three children must _pull_, on pain of forfeit,
whereas if the word is _pull_, their business is to _slacken_.
They have a grasshopper game, where they jump about with their hands
clasped under their knees, singing:--
"Grasshopper sent me an invitation
To come and share his occupation.
Grasshopper dear, how could I say no?
Grasshopper, grasshopper, here I go!"
In much the same fashion they play "Turkey," gobbling as they hop.
I never found them "playing house" precisely after the manner of our
own little girls, but there are many variants for the dialogue and
songs in their game of "Washerwoman." The Mother says: "Mariquilla,
I'm going out to the river to wash. While I am gone, you must sweep
and tidy up the house."
"_Bueno, madre._"
But no sooner is the Mother out of sight than naughty Mariquilla
begins to frisk for joy, singing:--
"Mother has gone to wash.
Mother'll be gone all day.
Now can Mariquilla
Laugh and dance and play."
But the Mother returns so suddenly that Mariquilla sees her barely in
time to begin a vigorous sweeping.
"'What hast been doing, Mary?'
'Sweeping with broom of brier.'
'A friar saw thee playing.'
'He was a lying friar.'
'A holy friar tell a lie!'
'He lied and so do you.'
'Come hither, Mary of my heart,
'And I'll beat thee black and blue.'"
After this lively exercise, the washerwoman goes away again, charging
Mariquilla to churn the butter, then to knead the bread, then to set
the table, but always with the same disastrous results. The Mother
finally condemns her to a dinner of bread and bitters, but Mariquilla
makes a point of understanding her to say bread and honey, and shares
this sweetness with her sympathetic mates who form the circle. This
time the beating is so severe that the children of the ring raise
their arms and let Mariquilla dodge freely in and out, while they do
all they can to trip and hinder the irate washerwoman in her pursuit.
There is another washing game of more romantic sort, the chorus
being:--
"'Bright is the fountain,
When skies are blue.
Who washed my handkerchief?
Tell me true!'
'Three mountain maidens
Of laughing look.
White went their feet
In the running brook.
One threw in roses,
And jasmine one.
One spread thy handkerchief
In the sun.'"
Spanish children "play store," of course, but they are such dramatic
little creatures that they need no broken ware for their merchandise.
A row of them will squat down in the middle of the street, clasp their
hands under the hollow of their knees, and crook out their arms for
"handles." Then a customer wanders by, asking, "Who sells honey-jars?"
The merchant disrespectfully replies, "That do I, Uncle of the Torn
Trousers." The shabby customer answers with Castilian dignity, "If my
trousers are torn, my wife will mend them." The merchant then opens
negotiations. "Will you buy a little jar of honey?" "What's your
price?" The merchant is not exorbitant. "A flea and a louse." The
probabilities are, unhappily, that the customer has these commodities
about him, and he inclines, though cautiously, toward the bargain.
"Your little honey-jars are good?"
"Very good."
"Do they weigh much?"
"Let's see."
So they pick up an hilarious little honey-jar by its handles and tug
it away between them, not letting it touch the ground, to the
sidewalk. Here the merchant and customer have designated four spaces
as Heaven, Limbo, Purgatory, and Hell, but on a preliminary
paving-stone--let truth need no apology!--they have done some artistic
spitting, with the result that four different figures in saliva are
presented to the little honey-jar. These four figures bear a secret
relation to the four spaces on the sidewalk, and the prisoner must
make his choice. "This!" he ventures. "Hell!" scream the merchant and
customer, and drag him, shrieking and struggling, to his doom. The
next, perhaps, will have the luck to hit on Heaven, for every little
honey-jar must take his chance in this theological lottery.
Sometimes the market becomes a transformation scene. The children hold
up their forefingers for candles, but embarrass the merchant by
doubling these up whenever the customer is on the point of buying.
Just as the bargain is about to be concluded, the little candles
vanish and the children roll themselves into bunches of grapes, some
proving sweet and others sour. Again, they make themselves over into
pitchers, cushions, and all variety of domestic articles, becoming at
last a pack of barking dogs which rush out on the customer, snap at
his legs, and drive him off the premises.
Again, it is a chicken-market on which the Uncle of the Torn Trousers
chances, where one by one he buys all the hens and chickens, but
forgets to buy the rooster, and when, by and by, this lordly fowl,
waxing lonely, cock-a-doodle-doos, the hens and chickens come
scurrying back to him, more to the profit of the merchant than to the
satisfaction of the customer.
In another of the chicken games, the Mother leaves Mariquilla in
charge of the brood, with directions, if the wolf comes, to fling him
the smallest. But he comes so often that, when the Mother returns,
there are no chickens left. Then she and Little Mary go hunting them,
hop-hop-hop through Flea Street, bow-wow-wow through Dog Street, and
so on without success, until it occurs to them to scatter corn.
Thereupon with peep-peep-peep and flip-flap-flutter all the chickens
appear, but only to fly at the negligent Mother, who left them to the
jaws of the wolf, and assail her with such furious pecks that she must
run for her life, the indignant chicks racing in wild pursuit.
There is a market-garden game, where one acts as gardener, others as
vegetables, and others as customers. Others, still, come creeping up
as thieves, but are opposed by a barking dog, which they kill. The
gardener summons them before the judge. A trial is held, with much
fluent Spanish argument pro and con, and the prisoners are condemned
to execution for the murder of the dog. But at the last thrilling
moment, when they have confessed their sins to the priests, and been
torn from the embraces of their weeping friends, the dog trots
cheerfully in, so very much alive that all the criminals are pardoned
in a general dance of joy.
The little girls have a favorite shopping game. In this the children
are seated, shoulder to shoulder, in two rows that face each other.
Every child takes the name of some cloth, silks and satins being
preferred. The leader of the game runs around the two rows, singing:--
"Up the counter, down the counter!
How can I buy enough?
Down the counter, up the counter!
I choose this velvet stuff."
Little Velvet immediately jumps to her feet and follows the leader,
who continues choosing and calling, choosing and calling, until the
stock is exhausted and she can go home with all her purchases most
conveniently trooping at her heels.
But the plays dearest to the black-eyed _ninas_ are love plays, of
which they have a countless number. Most of these consist of the
dancing, singing circle, with a child in the centre who chooses a
mate. Some are as simple as this:--
"Milk and rice!
I want to marry
A maiden nice.
I may not tarry.
It is not this,
Nor this, nor this.
'Tis only this
Whom I want to marry."
[Illustration: CADIZ FROM THE SEA]
_Ambo, ato_ is hardly more elaborate. When in the exchange of question
and answer, the child would choose her page and touches one of the
circle, the mercenary mites dance on faster than ever, until she
offers whatever gift she has, a flower, apple, or any trifle at hand.
Then the page runs in and kneels before her. The circle dances about
the two, singing the refrain, until the first child slips out and
joins them, leaving the second in the centre to begin the game over
again.
"_Ambo, ato, matarile, rile, rile?
Ambo, ato, matarile, rile, ron?_
1. "What do you want, matarile, rile, rile?
What do you want, matarile, rile, ron?
2. "I want a page, matarile, rile, rile.
I want a page, matarile, rile, ron.
1. "Choose whom you will, matarile, rile, rile.
Choose whom you will, matarile, rile, ron.
2. "I choose Pedro, matarile, rile, rile.
I choose Pedro, matarile, rile, ron.
1. "What will you give him, matarile, rile, rile?
What will you give him, matarile, rile, ron?
2. "I'll give him an orange, matarile, rile, rile.
I'll give him an orange, matarile, rile, ron.
1. "He answers yes, matarile, rile, rile.
He answers yes, matarile, rile, ron."
"The Charcoal Woman" requires an odd number of players. The circle
dances about a little girl who stands all forlorn in the centre. The
chorus sings the first stanza, the child sings the second, which has
reference to the fact that Spanish charcoal is often made from laurel
wood, and the chorus, in a comforting tone, the third. Then, while the
child runs about and about the circle as if seeking, the chorus
angrily sings the fourth stanza, accusing her of ambition, and the
little charcoal woman retorts with the fifth, making her choice as she
sings the last four words. At this the circle breaks, the children
quickly choosing mates and dancing by pairs. The one who is left
without a partner takes her place in the centre as the next Charcoal
Woman.
1.
_Chorus._ "Who would say that the charcoal woman,
Sooty, sooty charcoal woman,
In all the city and all the land
Could find a lover to kiss her hand?
2.
_Charcoal Woman._
"The little widow of good Count Laurel
Has no one left her for kiss or quarrel.
I want a sweetheart and find me none.
Charcoal women must bide alone.
3.
_Chorus._ "Poor little widow, so sweet thou art,
If there's no other to claim thy heart,
Take thy pick of us who stand
Ready to kiss thy sooty hand.
4.
_Chorus._ "The charcoal woman, the charcoal woman,
Proud little black little charcoal woman,
Goes seeking up and seeking down
To find the Count of Cabratown.
5.
_Charcoal Woman._
"I would not marry the Count of Cabra.
Never will marry the Count of Cabra.
Count of Cabra! Oh, deary me!
I'll not have him,--_if you're not he!_"
Just such coquettish touches of Spanish spirit and maiden pride appear
in many of the songs, as, for instance, in one of their counting-out
carols, "The Garden."
"The garden of our house it is
The funniest garden yet,
For when it rains and rains and rains,
The garden it is wet.
And now we bow,
Skip back and then advance,
For who know how to make a bow
Know how to dance.
AB--C--AB--C
DE--FG--HI--J.
If your worship does not love me,
Then a better body may.
AB--C--AB--C,
KL--MN--OP--Q.
If you think you do not love me,
I am sure I don't love you."