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CHRISTMAS CANDLES
_Plays for Boys and Girls_
BY
ELSIE HOBART CARTER
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
1915
Copyright, 1915,
BY
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
Published November, 1915
Printed, November, 1922
PRINTED IN THE U S A BY
THE QUINN & BODEN COMPANY
RAHWAY N J
[Illustration: MARIE TELLS THE STORY
_The Babushka_, Page 209]
To the memory of
W.N.H.
who loved both plays
and players
Thanks are due to The Century Company; Mr. Tudor Jenks; Miss K.A.
Prichard; Mrs. Mary Wilkins Freeman; the Lothrop, Lee & Shepard
Company; Colonel Thomas E. Davis; Miss Gertrude Hall; Harper &
Brothers; the John Church Company; and the Universalist Publishing
House, for permission to use copyrighted material, as particularly
acknowledged throughout the book.
CONTENTS
PAGE
SUGGESTIONS FOR PRODUCTION xv
I. THE CHRIST-CANDLE. _In Two Scenes_ 1
Seventeen characters: Two, the mother and St.
Nicholas, played by adults; seven boys and
four girls from six to twelve years; four boys,
or three boys and a girl, fourteen to eighteen.
Important parts fall to three of the younger
children, two boys and one girl, and the Star-Child
must be able to sing alone.
Setting: 1st. Snow-scene in forest.
2nd. Interior,--a poor hovel.
Time of playing: 40 minutes.
This play makes use of the old German belief
that the Christ-Child returns to earth each
Christmas Eve to seek shelter among men. A
little waif, lost in the snow, is refused help by
the selfishness of happiness, of ill-temper, of
poverty, of riches, and is at last received by
two little children who take him for the Holy
Child indeed.
II. TOINETTE AND THE ELVES. _In Two Acts_ 31
Ten characters: Mother's part taken by an
adult; three girls and two boys from six to
fifteen; four very little boys for elves.
Setting: Quaint cottage interior.
Time of playing: 30 minutes.
Toinette, pretty, dreamy, and self-absorbed,
tries the Elves' Christmas-Eve gift of fern seed,
to make her invisible, and learns that
the little brothers and sisters do not love an
impatient and unkind older one. Much
grieved, she tries through the year to correct
her faults, but is almost afraid to repeat the
experiment when the Elves again bring their
gift. The friendly Elves urge her, and the
result is so happy that Toinette and the Elves
have a gay little celebration all by themselves.
III. TOM'S PLAN. _In Two Acts_ 53
Nine characters: One adult, for Santa Claus;
four boys and four girls from six to fifteen
years. Chief part by a boy of eight or nine.
Setting: One simple interior.
Time of playing: 25 minutes.
Tom, hearing that Santa Claus will bring
sticks or ashes to children who are bad, can
think of no way to test the disturbing statement,
except to be as naughty as he knows
how. But Santa Claus explains matters.
IV. THEIR CHRISTMAS PARTY. _In Two Acts_ 73
Characters: One adult for Santa Claus; five
older children, two boys and three girls; two
boys and two girls, seven to nine years for
the important parts, and a dozen children
from four to ten, with no speaking parts.
Setting: 1st. A winter street-scene.
2nd. Simple interior.
Time of playing: 35 minutes.
Dick and Dot, a lonely little brother and
sister, decide to share their Christmas with
two poor children, while several older friends,
hearing the children's wish for a Christmas
Party, plan, independently of each other, to
arrange for one. The result is a Christmas
surprise for everyone.
V. THE CHRISTMAS BROWNIE. _In One Act_ 95
Twenty-four characters: Santa Claus; three
older children for adults, one boy and two
girls; three boys and three girls from five to
twelve, the important parts being for two boys
of ten; four little boys and two little girls,
and eight children who can sing, for the
tableaux of the Christmas dream.
Setting: Simple interior.
Time of playing: 40 minutes.
Santa Claus' Brownie allows Ted to help fill
the stockings, with a result that perplexes and
disturbs their owners, and teaches Ted that it
takes thoughtfulness as well as good will to
make people happy. The Brownie's especial
gift to Ted is a Christmas Dream.
VI. A PURITAN CHRISTMAS. _In Two Acts_ 121
Twenty characters: Seven boys and four girls,
from five to twelve years; the mother, and
other adult Colonists, taken by boys and girls
from seventeen to twenty.
Setting: One interior, a small cabin in the
early days of the Colonies.
Time of playing: 45 minutes.
The little Puritan family, hearing from their
young mother of happy Christmas in Old England,
decide on a celebration of their own.
The Colonists, surprising them, are very
angry, and inclined to severe punishment,
until a little Indian boy, who has been befriended
by Mistress Delight and her children,
shows that, for the sake of her kindness to
him, the settlement has been spared a dreaded
Indian raid. The peace and good will of
Christmas touch the stern hearts of the Puritans,
and they end by a friendly sharing of
the festival.
VII. THE CHRISTMAS MONKS. _In Three Acts_ 149
Twenty-five characters, all but two with
speaking parts. Two may double. One adult
for the Abbot. Eight older boys, four older
girls. Seven boys, five girls, from five to ten
years.
Setting: 1st. Roadway, outside the Convent walls.
2nd. The Christmas garden.
3rd. Chapel of the Convent.
Time of playing: 50 minutes.
It is unknown to many people that the Christmas
toys grow from seed in the garden of the
Christmas Monks. The play relates the adventures
of the Prince, Peter, and Peter's little
sister, in this wonderful place.
VIII. THE SPELL OF CHRISTMAS. _In Two Scenes_ 179
Fourteen characters: Eight boys and six girls,
from six to sixteen years. Also a few voices
for the singing of the Waits' carol off stage.
Setting: Two scenes--Seventeenth Century interiors.
Time of playing: 45 minutes.
The old belief that at midnight on Christmas
Eve the family portraits come to life, step
down from their places, and join hands in a
stately dance, leads the children to slip out of
their beds at an unwonted hour, and so to
take a hand in the adventures of their elders,
quite beyond their ken.
IX. THE BABUSHKA. _A Russian Legend, in One Scene_ 209
Twenty-four characters: One adult, or older
girl, able to bring intelligence and sympathy to
the part of the mysterious Babushka; two
men, or older boys; five boys and four girls,
from six to fourteen; and village children,
five boys, seven girls. One of the men and
one boy, the village fiddlers, should be able to
play their violins to accompany the carol.
Setting: Interior,--a Russian hovel.
Time of playing: 30 minutes.
Tells the story of the strange old woman,
who, refusing at the Wise Men's call to follow
the Star to the manger of the new-born
Christ, has ever since in the winter season
wandered over the world, seeking in every
nursery, in every cradle, for the Holy Child.
X. A CANVAS CHRISTMAS. _In Two Acts. For a Boys' Club_ 235
Fourteen characters: Twelve boys, twelve to
sixteen; two little boys, six and eight.
Setting: One scene, interior of a circus tent.
Time of playing: 40 minutes.
Two little farm boys who have never seen
either a circus or a Christmas tree, creep into
the tent just as the discontented men are planning
rebellion against their leader. The
Christmas spirit of friendliness softens not
only the men, but the surly ringmaster, and
the strict and severe father of the boys.
XI. MINTY-MALVINY'S SANTA CLAUS. _In One Act_ 265
Seven characters: Three adults, two men, one
woman; four children, three girls, and one
boy, six to ten years. The important part of
the pickaninny taken by a girl of ten.
Setting: Modern interior.
Time of playing: 25 minutes.
Minty-Malviny, the little black drudge of an
old-time New Orleans boarding-house, falls
asleep on the rug of a handsome sitting-room,
and waking, takes the owner for Ole Marse
Santa Claus himself. Her faith inspires him
to play the part.
XII. THE HUNDRED. _In One Act_ 283
Six characters: Five women, one little girl of
eight or nine, who must be able to carry an
important part.
Setting: Mrs. Darling's dressing-room.
Time of playing: 50 minutes.
Mrs. Darling, a charming young widow with
a quick temper, has dressed a hundred dolls
for an Orphan Asylum. On Christmas Eve,
Sally, the kitchen-maid, brings a little East-side
friend to see the dolls, one of which is
accidentally broken, to the consternation of
the household. But Mrs. Darling is not the
ogress the servants believe her, and Tibbie
goes home happy, with her arms full of
dollies.
GENERAL NOTES 313
SUGGESTIONS FOR CAROLS 315
ILLUSTRATIONS
MARIE TELLS THE STORY. [_The Babushka._] _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
HANS AND GRETEL. [_The Christmas-Candle._] 3
HOLLYBERRY. [_Toinette and the Elves._] 33
THEIR CHRISTMAS PARTY 75
THE BROWNIE. [_The Christmas Brownie._] 97
PRUDENCE. EAGLEFEATHER. [_A Puritan Christmas._] 123
THE PRINCE. PETER AND THE PRINCE. [_The Christmas Monks._] 151
ALLISON. [_The Spell of Christmas._] 181
SUGGESTIONS FOR PRODUCTION
These little plays were written for the classes and clubs of a small
Sunday-school, where the Christmas celebration consisted of a play to
introduce Santa Claus and a Christmas-tree. They are equally suitable
for children at home or in day schools, and they have been so used.
In most of the plays children greatly enjoy playing the adult parts
and do good work in them. But several of the adult rôles call for
adult players, because a deeper appreciation of the feeling contained
in the story is required than can be given by girls in their teens.
Such parts are the Babushka, the Mother in "The Christ-Candle," and
the Mother in "Toinette." Partly for the same reason, a man should be
chosen for the Abbot in "The Christmas Monks," but also his presence
will lend dignity, and much greater orderliness to rehearsals in a
play with a large cast.
The last two plays, adapted from stories by well-known writers,
"Minty-Malviny's Santa Claus" and "The Hundred," were not especially
intended for children, but as parlor plays for home production. These
two throw heavier work upon a single child than any of the other
plays, but though they were made with special children in view, it
would not be difficult to find, in any group of children, a little
girl who could play "Minty" or "Tibbie" as well as those for whom the
parts were first made.
The length of the cast in some of the plays need not be daunting, as
the principal characters are usually few, the minor ones often having
been introduced in answer to the frequent pleading "May _I_ be in the
'show' this year?" Though some of the parts are rather long, none are
in the least calculated to strain the actors in any way--children
act them with zest and absolute naturalness. Very little children
have sometimes done remarkable work in them--the very youngest, a
tiny girl of four, cast for "Rosalia" in "The Christmas Monks,"
played also another part at twenty-four hours' notice, when a little
cousin inopportunely came down with measles on Christmas Eve. The two
children had studied together, and little "Rosalia" knew "Peggy's"
part as well as her own.
LIGHTING. No one factor is more important for success in
producing children's plays than adequate lighting. No matter how
charmingly the setting and costuming may be carried out, no matter
how well the children may act their parts, if the audience cannot
_see_ them easily, the pains and trouble of the stage force, the best
efforts of the children, will be lost. This is an individual problem,
each case varying so much from the next that definite directions to
fit all cases cannot well be given. But the importance of this one
factor can hardly be overestimated. Fortunate indeed is the miniature
stage with footlights and upper lights so arranged that red and white
bulbs are controlled by different switches, each switch having also a
dimmer. Nor are these things so expensive as to be beyond even rather
moderate means, especially if included in the original equipment of
the stage. It is more often from lack of experience than because of
their initial cost that they are omitted.
STAGE SETTINGS. Through the same lack of experience or
forethought, settings are often provided which are of use in the
minimum instead of the maximum number of plays. The simplest cottage
interior is more adaptable, and can be used in a greater number of
instances than the most attractive of more pronounced "sets." It is
therefore invaluable for a small stage, where perhaps but one indoor
and one outdoor scene must cover all requirements. All but two of the
plays in this volume have been acted upon such a little stage.
DELAYS. Another point of real importance is to avoid delays.
The director should make every effort to this end by attention to
the smallest details beforehand, by preparedness when the time of
performance comes, and by perfect control of the stage forces.
Lateness in beginning, and long waits between scenes, are tedious to
any audience. They do much to dampen enthusiasm and destroy otherwise
happy impressions. Care and forethought, practice for those who
are to handle scenery, and system in the arrangement of properties
and costumes will go a long way towards the elimination of this
difficulty.
COSTUMES AND PROPERTIES. In giving stage directions and
descriptions of costumes, the effort has been towards suggestiveness
rather than too great definiteness, and strict adherence to all
details is not necessary or intended. It is most important to
keep the Christmas spirit of the play from being smothered in the
mechanics of production. Setting and costuming may be elaborate
or simple, and every director will know his or her own resources.
Groups of people interested in such work are apt to accumulate sets
of costumes, odd properties, even pieces of furniture, which are
convertible to many other uses than those for which they were made.
Few things are really impossible to compass if one is set upon them.
A friendly janitor will spend his leisure upon stage-carpentry.
Friends rise up--or may be sought--who are interested enough to lend
their treasures, or to use their talents. One will draw a latticed
window which may be pinned or basted upon a bit of plain wall;
another will manufacture a scutcheon for the decoration of a medieval
hall, or even paint a sea scene before which Alice, the Gryphon, and
the Mock-Turtle may disport themselves.
MATERIALS. Gifts of old silk gowns, or even scraps of
material, can all be utilized in some way. And in this connection, a
word must be said as to the value of _real_ things. Use cheese-cloth,
cambric, and canton-flannel if you must--a good variety of color may
be found in them; canton-flannel is heavy, and hangs well, and up to
a certain point they are all effective. But if better things can be
had, through gift or loan, it is a matter for rejoicing. Not only
because better materials mean softer and richer colors, but because
they very greatly improve the _texture_ of the stage picture. This
difference in quality makes a very marked difference in beauty of
effect.
Occasionally it will be found necessary to hire costumes, and, more
often, wigs. But all such things as can be made, with help, by the
children and their friends, will add just so much to their interest
in the performance, and the good they can get from it.
MAKE-UP. For plays produced under artificial light, some
"make-up" must be used, as otherwise faces are often pale to
ghastliness. But for children it should be put on with a very careful
and sparing hand, and except in certain character-parts, only a
little dry rouge is needed.
REHEARSING. Children's plays should not be over-rehearsed.
The smoothness and finish which it is right to demand of older
players is hardly possible, or even desirable, for them. The charm
of their acting lies in its sweet simplicity and freshness, a part
of which is almost sure to be lost in any attempt at professional
perfection. When they weary of rehearsals, and lose their enjoyment
of them, not only are the director's troubles multiplied, but
something vital has been lost from the charm of the final performance.
As a preliminary to rehearsals the children should be brought
together and the cast read to them, so that each child may know
just which part he or she is to act, and the play then read to them
by someone thoroughly in sympathy both with its story and with the
children themselves. In this way they most quickly catch the spirit
of the play, and are at once full of interest and ready with their
own suggestions. Then the parts may be given out, and the play
read again, each child reading his or her own part. Mistakes of
pronunciation and emphasis are thus guarded against, and the children
are ready to begin learning their parts. In the case of school plays,
where the whole group can meet daily, more than one such preliminary
reading and discussion should be held.
If it is a possible thing, rehearse from the beginning on the stage
where the play is to be given, having scenery arranged and properties
of some sort on hand, in order that lines and action may be impressed
on the children's minds together, not learned as distinct and
separate things. Put into practice early whatever music is to be used.
Finally, don't let the rehearsals at any time descend to the level
of mere _drill_. The director must enjoy them with the children,
establishing a happy co-operation which makes the whole work a joy
from beginning to end. They will share the spirit of adventure in the
matter of obtaining or contriving the most difficult things in the
way of costumes, scenery, and properties. Their inventiveness will
be quickened, their hands will grow skillful, and their triumphant
enjoyment of success in these preliminary labors will stimulate them
to greater success in the acting of the story. In this, they will be
quick to appreciate hints--frequently to offer them--as to the best
ways of expressing the meaning and spirit of the play, and work with
them becomes an inspiration to all alike.
With such whole-hearted co-operation, nothing is impossible of
attainment, and the pleasure of the work more than repays ungrudging
lavishment of time, labor, patience, and love.
THE CHRIST-CANDLE
A CHRISTMAS PLAY IN TWO SCENES
CHARACTERS
MOTHER MADELON } Who live in the little black hut
HANS } in the woods.
GRETEL }
FRIEDEL, whom the Christ-Child sent.
OLD MARTA }
RICH JOHANN } Who would not share their Christmas.
CROSS JACOB }
WOODCUTTER }
THE STAR CHILD, who brought a Christmas message.
FRITZ }
HEINRICH }
OSCAR } To whom the good St. Nicholas always
KARL } comes.
JAN }
BARBARA }
KATRINA }
THE GOOD ST. NICHOLAS.
[Illustration: HANS AND GRETEL]
THE CHRIST-CANDLE
SCENE I
_Christmas Eve, in the forest near_ MOTHER MADELON'S
_cottage. The ground is covered with snow and the little evergreens
all about are weighted down with it. Enter_ FRITZ (_L._)
_with his brothers and sisters, laden with holly boughs and
evergreens. The boys drag a sled with a small evergreen tree on it.
As they come they sing "Softly the Echoes Come and Go."_[1]
[Footnote 1: _Hosanna_, p. 122. New Church Board of Publication, 3
West 29th St., New York.]
FRITZ. Stop here and rest, Heinrich. This is too big a load
for the little ones.
BARBARA. Yes, Karl is all out of breath, and little Jan can
hardly keep up.
HEINRICH [_dropping the sled rope_]. I'm not tired. I'm
going to run back to the holly trees to get a few more sprays.
[_Exit._]
OSCAR [_who has been measuring the tree with his arm._]
Fritz, do you think the good St. Nicholas can cover such a big tree
as this?
KARL. It's pretty big. It's bigger than me--or Katrina--I
guess it's bigger than Fritz or Barbara or Heinrich.
KATRINA. I think it's bigger than the one St. Nicholas
filled for us last year.
JAN. But then, you see, we are bigger children than we were
last year.
FRITZ. But the tree is almost big enough to hold you on the top
branches, kleiner Bruder, if the good St. Nicholas wanted to put you
there. See! [_He and_ BARBARA _help_ JAN _on top of the load. Enter_
HEINRICH _excitedly._]
HEINRICH. Fritz, Fritz! And, Barbara, and all of you! Listen
to what I've seen. I was running over to the holly trees, you know,
when I tripped on a bit of grape-vine, and rolled over in the snow.
[_Brushes snow from his clothes._] And when I sat up there was the
queerest little black cottage right there. I do believe it just came
up out of the ground like a house in a fairy-book.
FRITZ. Oh no, it didn't, Heinrich, it's always been there!
I've seen it many a time.
HEINRICH. I don't believe it! Why didn't I ever see it then?
BARBARA. Oh, never mind that! Tell us some more about the
house.
HEINRICH. I crept up, and looked in at the window, for, of
course, I thought there might be brownies, or gnomes, or kobolds
there, and I saw----
CHILDREN [_breathlessly_]. What? Oh, what?
HEINRICH. A poor woman and two little children----
CHILDREN [_disappointed_]. O-o-h!
FRITZ. That all?
HEINRICH. Just wait! They looked so poor and hungry--there
wasn't a thing on the table but a dry little loaf of bread--and only
a few little sticks on the fire.
KATRINA. Oh, it makes me so sorry.
HEINRICH [_shaking his head wisely_]. That's not the worst
of it. When I got to the window the two children were standing by the
mother's chair, looking up in her face and asking her something. I
couldn't hear what they said, but she shook her head oh, so sadly,
and said: "No, my little ones, the good St. Nicholas will not find
his way to us this Christmas." That's what she said! [_Silent
consternation._]
FRITZ. What? What did you say, Heinrich?
BARBARA. It couldn't be so!
KARL. St. Nicholas!
OSCAR. Not find his way everywhere!
KATRINA. Not give them any beautiful Tannenbaum!
FRITZ. Oh, I don't believe it! You didn't hear right!
HEINRICH. I did. And I do believe it! You would if you had
seen how sorry they looked.
FRITZ. Well, but--well, I don't see--well, Heinrich, it
isn't so hard to find. He _must_ come surely.
HEINRICH. No, he isn't coming. The poor woman said so and
she must know. [_Sitting down on sled._]
BARBARA. Yes, she must know. Father and Mother always see
the good saint first, you know, and tell him whether we've been
naughty or good. They always know whether he is coming or not.
KATRINA. But he always _does_ come to us.
OSCAR. Brother Fritz, Mother says the good St. Nicholas
loves to give presents to little children. Wouldn't he be sorry if
there was a house anywhere in the _world_ that he didn't know about?
KARL. Brother Fritz, couldn't _we_ show him the way?
FRITZ [_claps him on the shoulder_]. Well spoken, Karl, my
man. We'll tell St. Nicholas all about it as soon as he comes to us,
and then show him the way to Heinrich's little black hut.
BARBARA. And if he shouldn't have enough to go around, he
always brings us so much that we can spare some of our things for
them.
FRITZ. Yes, he puts enough for two trees on our tree. Come,
Oscar and Karl, get hold of the rope! Barbara, you take Katrina's
hand.
BARBARA. Trot along in front, Jan! Come, then, let's get
home as fast as we can.
HEINRICH. All together now! Get up, horses, pull the load home!
[_Exeunt (R.), singing as before. Enter_ FRIEDEL _(L.), before the
sound of their voices has died away, slowly and wearily. Limps to
side and peers through the trees after the children, then to the
back, then to the left again, like one who has lost his way. Stops
in the center looking doubtfully after the children once more. Enter
the woodcutter (L.), axe over his shoulder, whistling as he hurries
home._ FRIEDEL _silently holds out his cap, but the man shrugs his
shoulders, shakes his head, and passes on._ FRIEDEL _goes slowly to
a tree and sits on a log or mound beside it. Blows on his fingers,
tries to pull his rags more closely around him, and leans his head
dejectedly on his hands. Lifts his head suddenly to watch_ MARTA,
_who approaches (L.), hobbling under a bunch of fagots._]
MARTA. Ach, my old bones! Ach, this heavy bundle! Will ever
old Marta get home?
[FRIEDEL _silently holds out his cap._
MARTA. What's this! What's this! What's this! Was ever heard
tell of such insolence? As if Old Marta wasn't poor enough herself,
without giving to every beggar who chooses to ask! The little
good-for-nothing sees how I stagger under my own load and yet asks
me to help him! [_Moves on._]
FRIEDEL [_softly_]. I would help you carry them.
MARTA [_pausing_]. Help me! Help me! and lose half the
sticks I have worked so hard to gather on the way! [_Goes on._] Help
me, he says. When I want help I'll not ask the beggars that come out
of the streets of the town just a purpose to lie in wait for a poor
old crone like me. [_Exit (R.) mumbling._] That I'll not! That I'll
not.
FRIEDEL [_looking after her_]. Why does she think I would
drop the sticks? I would be _so_ careful. I wonder why. I almost
think she was afraid of me. Of _me_!
[_Enter_ CROSS JACOB _(L.)._
FRIEDEL [_timidly_]. Please--please, sir, could you tell me
the way back to the town? And oh, couldn't you let me come to your
fire a little while to warm myself?
CROSS JACOB. Go away with you! It's as much as ever my wife
will do to let me warm myself at my fire. She's got nine boys of
her own to fill up my house and drive me away. Get away with you!
[_Shakes his fist threateningly._ FRIEDEL _recoils._] Go
home to your own fire! [_Exit (R.)._]
FRIEDEL. Oh, if I only had one!
[_Enter_ RICH JOHANN _(L.). Pauses to light
his pipe._
FRIEDEL [_speaking timidly and hurriedly_]. Oh, sir! Oh,
good, _kind_ sir! don't you want a little boy to help you in your
house?
JOHANN [_looks him over_]. What's your name, boy?
FRIEDEL. Friedel, sir!
JOHANN. Friedel what!
FRIEDEL. Just Friedel, sir!
JOHANN. Umph! "Just Friedel." And who's Friedel, I'd like to
know.
FRIEDEL. I don't think I just know myself, sir! But, oh,
sir! [_clasps his hands tightly_], please let me work for you. I
would pick up wood for you, and build fires, and run errands. I would
work _so_ hard and be _so_ faithful!
JOHANN [_throwing back his shoulders and putting his hands
in his pockets_]. And who do you think I am, boy, that you presume to
want to work in my house? To work for me, Rich Johann, who has many
servants in his house, to carry out his commands and do his work and
run his errands? Umph! Do you think I could have one servant about me
clothed in such rags as yours? [FRIEDEL _hangs his head._]
No, no! my servants wear fine clothes and brass buttons [_takes a
puff at his pipe_], yes, indeed, brass buttons. No, no! Rich Johann
lives in a very different style--a very different style, indeed.
[_Exit (R.), his nose very much in the air._]
FRIEDEL. Nobody will take me in. I have walked so far, so
far, I can't go back to the town. [_Throws himself down on mound (R.
Center)._] The snow feels almost warm, the wind is so cold. [_Points
up._] I can see a star up there through the trees. It twinkles and
twinkles as if it was laughing. I do believe it is! Sometimes I think
the stars must be children with little candles in their hands. I
wish I could see---- I wish---- [_He falls back asleep. Enter the
little_ STAR CHILD _(back Center) from behind the fir trees.
Sings._]
[Music: THE CHRIST CHILD[2]]
[Footnote 2: From _The Nursery_, Vol. 27 (1880).]
WM. TAUBERT.
Over all the starlight clear,
While the world is sleeping,
Sits the Christ Child ever dear,
Nightly watch is keeping.
Safe the starry host He tends,
As his sheepfold shining,
Cares for us and slumber sends,
All to rest resigning,
Sweetly sleep then, do not fear;
Look with love before thee,
From the golden starlight clear,
Bends the Christ Child o'er thee,
Bends the Christ Child o'er thee.
[_Exit backwards slowly._ FRIEDEL _suddenly
raises himself, stretching out his hand after
her._
CURTAIN
SCENE II
_Christmas Eve in_ MOTHER MADELON'S _cottage. Open
fireplace[3] at the Right, door (R.) and window (L.) at the back.
Snow scene at back, shows through window and door when opened. Small
table by the window with half a loaf of bread and one or two cracked
plates and cups. A stool, a small chair, and by the fire a box._
MOTHER MADELON _sits (L.) at a spinning wheel. The children
stand beside her_, GRETEL _rubbing her eyes with her two
little fists_, HANS _with his hands behind him._
[Footnote 3: See note on Fireplace, p. 313.]
HANS [_bravely_]. But, Mother, the good saint never missed
us before. Are you sure he isn't coming?
GRETEL. What makes you so sure, Mother, dear?
MOTHER. Yes, my little ones, I am afraid it is true. [_More
brightly._] You know, he has so very much to do. Just think how many
little children he must go to see every year! Someone must always be
left out. Perhaps it is our turn now. We can wait until next year.
Perhaps he will come then.
HANS [_rubbing his eyes_]. Oh, dear, I wish to-morrow
wouldn't come at all.
MOTHER. Oh, Hans, don't say that. Think how happy we can be.
Even if St. Nicholas doesn't come, to-morrow is still the bright,
beautiful Christmas Day, when everyone in the world is happy, and we
shall hear the chimes ringing, and see people going about wishing
each other "Merry Christmas." And then we have each other. I have my
little big daughter who helps me wipe the dishes and put the plates
away and my big right-hand man who is going to work so hard for me
pretty soon.
HANS. Yes, Mother, but I can help you now, right away. Let
me do something for you right now!
GRETEL. Me too, Mother, me too!
MOTHER. Very well! You shall hold this yarn for me, while Gretel
winds it. [_Puts the yarn on_ HANS' _hands._ HANS _sits on box_,
GRETEL _on stool winding._ MOTHER _turns spinning wheel and sings
"Bending O'er a Cradle Low."_]
[Music: BENDING O'ER A CRADLE LOW[4]]
[Footnote 4: Copyright, 1893, by the John Church Company. Used by
permission.]
(A CHRISTMAS SONG)
LYDIA AVERY COONLEY. GEORGE F. ROOT.
1. Bending o'er a cradle low
Sang a mother long ago,
"This is Christ the Holy Child."
Shepherds, wise men, angels smiled;
"What care I for palace walls;
What care I for kingly halls!
In my arms the King of kings
Listens while the angel sings.
Peace on earth, good will for aye,
Hail the blessed Christmas Day!
Hail the blessed Christmas Day!"
2. Echoing down the ages long
Comes the herald angel's song,
Still do shepherds heed the voice,
Wise men listen and rejoice;
While to greet the King of kings
Earth her noblest offerings brings.
And the blessed Christ is born
In each heart on Christmas morn.
Sing, then, peace, good will for aye,
Hail the blessed Christmas Day!
Hail the blessed Christmas Day!
HANS. Gretel, I believe St. Nicholas _will_ come anyway, I just
believe he will. [GRETEL _gives the yarn to her mother_, HANS
_remains sitting on the box._] When we aren't thinking about it he'll
just walk right in--I'll show you how. [_Jumps up and runs out of
the door._] Now, I'm St. Nicholas. [_Comes in again, speaking in a
loud and pompous tone._] How do you do, little Miss Gretel,--how are
you little--no, big Hans! [_Shakes hands with_ GRETEL _and with an
imaginary_ HANS.] Well, Mother Madelon, have these children been very
good indeed?
MOTHER. Yes, good saint, I couldn't ask for two better,
dearer children, or any that I love half so well.
HANS [_in his own voice_]. Oh, Mother, do you truly think so?
GRETEL. Then, Hans, if we've been good children, I 'most
_know_ St. Nicholas will come.
HANS [_dancing to look out of door_]. Oh, he will! He will!
Mother, give me something to do so I won't keep thinking about it.
GRETEL. Oh, Hans, let's have a story!
HANS. Oh, yes, Mother, please tell us a story.
MOTHER. Bring your little stools, then I will tell you a
Christmas story.
GRETEL [_coaxingly_]. Mother, don't you think it is too dark
to spin? Let me sit in your lap.
MOTHER. You funny little fairy! [_Takes her on her lap._ HANS _brings
a stool and sits at his_ MOTHER'S _feet nursing his knee._]
MOTHER. Once upon a time, many, many years ago, it happened
that a little child was wandering all alone through the streets of a
great busy town. It was Christmas Eve, and wherever the child looked
he saw shining lights and hurrying happy people. His coat was all too
thin, and his little feet and hands were bare and frostbitten. The
sharp ice on the ground cut his feet as he walked, and the cold wind
tossed his soft hair back from his forehead. But he hardly seemed to
feel the cold, for everywhere he was watching the eager, happy faces
that hastened by. He looked up into a window and saw a beautiful,
wonderful tree, covered with little candles and glittering balls,
and all about the tree were gathered merry, laughing children. It
seemed as if those happy little ones would be glad to have another
little boy amongst them, and the child went quietly up the steps and
tapped at the door. But the tall man who opened it said crossly, "Go
away. I can't let you in here." So the child went sorrowfully down
the steps and wandered on again. As he went along the street many
more houses were full of light and happiness, and wherever he saw the
candle-covered Christmas trees with their cluster of gay child-faces,
he tapped softly at the door, or looked wistfully in at the window.
But everywhere the same answer was given him. "You must go on. We
can't take you in." Some people looked sorry when they said this, but
most of them hardly glanced at him at all before they shut the great
doors to keep out the cold wind. At last he came to the very last
house--a poor little cottage with just one window. But he could see
the light streaming out of it, and wearily made his way to the door.
In this little house was a Mother and two little children----
HANS. Just like us!
MOTHER. And at one side of the room was a cradle----
GRETEL. But we haven't got any baby!
MOTHER. When the little girl heard the soft tapping at the
door she said: "Shall I open it, Mother?" And the mother said, "Yes,
indeed, we mustn't let anyone stay out in the cold on the beautiful
Christmas Eve." So the child opened the door and led in the little,
shivering stranger. The mother took him on her lap and rubbed his
frozen hands, and folded her warm arms about him. And the children
begged him to stay with them always. Then the Mother told them the
wonderful beautiful story of the first Christmas, and how the shining
angels came to the poor shepherds in the field and sang "Glory to God
in the Highest, and on earth peace, good will towards men." And how
the shepherds went to find the dear baby in the manger, and the wise
men were led by a glorious star to find Him, too. And while she was
talking to them the room seemed filled with a strange, soft light
that grew lovelier and brighter every moment, until the children,
wondering, turned to their mother to ask what it meant. And then
they saw that the Child was gone. But the mother said: "Children, I
think we have had the real little Christ-Child with us to-night." And
after that men used to say that the Christ-Child sometimes came again
on Christmas Eve to wander from door to door asking for shelter and
love. And sometimes men drive Him away, and He can find no place to
rest. But in some homes He is given a glad and loving welcome.
GRETEL. Oh, Mother, I wish, I _wish_ He would come here, to
us!
HANS [_looking to the window_]. But, Mother, it is all
dark--there is no light in the window for Him! Mother, we've got a
little piece of a candle. Mayn't I put it in the cup that's broken
and light it?
MOTHER. Yes, my little son.
[HANS _jumps on the box and reaches a bit of
candle from the mantel. Fastens it in the
cup and lights it._ GRETEL _watching anxiously.
Then together they put it in the
window and sing "The Christ-Candle."_
[Music: THE CHRIST-CANDLE[5]]
[Footnote 5: By permission of the Universalist Publishing House.]
KATE L. BROWN. ELIZABETH U. EMERSON.
1. Little taper set to-night,
Throw afar thy tiny light,
Up and down the darksome street,
Guide the tender wand'ring feet
Of the darling Christ Child sweet.
2. He is coming through the snow
As He came so long ago,
When the stars set o'er the hill,
When the town is dark and still,
Comes to do the Father's will.
3. Little taper, spread thy ray
Make His pathway light as day,
Let some door be open wide
For this guest of Christmas-tide,
Dearer than all else beside.
4. Little Christ Child come to me,
Let my heart Thy shelter be.
Such a home Thou wilt not scorn,
So the bells of Christmas morn
Glad shall ring, "A Christ is born."
NOTE: The air "Hearts and Flowers" can also be
used for this song.
GRETEL. Oh, do you think the little Christ-Child can see it
now, Mother?
MOTHER. Yes, my darling. He can. And whether He comes
wandering through the snowy forests or not, He loves to know that
little children think of Him and try to please Him.
HANS. Gretel, I'm going out to see if the light shows
outside. [_Goes out of the door and peers in at the window._
GRETEL _keeps the door open a crack to watch him._]
HANS [_comes in and bends over the fire to warm his hands_].
It sparkles on the snow just the way the moonlight does, and it's
ever so much brighter than the stars. Do you believe it is as bright
as the star of Bethlehem?
GRETEL. Oh no! It couldn't be like that! There was never
another star that shone like _that_.
HANS. Let me put another stick on the fire, Mother. If the
little Christ-Child comes He will be so cold. [_Puts on one or two
sticks._]
GRETEL. Oh, Hans, I'm afraid He will be hungry, too. Let's
toast a piece of our loaf for Him.
HANS. Yes, let me toast it.
GRETEL. And I'll cut it. [_Both clatter to the table, where_ GRETEL
_cuts a piece of bread, and fastening it on a stick gives it to_
HANS, _who seats himself on a stool before the fire._ GRETEL _stands
beside him._ FRIEDEL _appears at the window and leans his face
against it, watching._]
GRETEL. Oh, Hans, be careful, be careful, you're burning it!
HANS. No, I'm not, but I'm toasting my face.
GRETEL. Let me hold it awhile. [_They change places._ HANS _stands
with hands on hips and feet apart watching her. The_ MOTHER _sees_
FRIEDEL _and rises, beckoning to him._ FRIEDEL _leaves the window,
and goes to the door, where he taps softly._]
GRETEL. Oh, Hans! He's come! He's come! [GRETEL
_drops fork and both fly to the door, throwing it wide open, and
standing back. An instant's pause, then_ FRIEDEL _looks from
one to the other and stretches out his hands._]
GRETEL [_shyly taking his hand_]. We--we--we were waiting
for you. Come in.
HANS. We're glad you've come.
GRETEL. Mother. Mother, his hands are like ice. [_Leads him
to the fire._ HANS _shuts the door and comes to watch. The_
MOTHER _comes forward._]
MOTHER. Sit here, little one, and let me warm the poor
cold hands. [_Seats_ FRIEDEL _on a stool close to the
fire, and bending over him chafes his hands._ HANS _and_
GRETEL _draw away, casting furtive glances at him._]
HANS. Do you believe it _is_ the Christ-Child, Gretel?
GRETEL [_slowly_]. I--I don't know.
HANS [_decidedly_]. I do. It _must_ be. We put the candle
there for Him--and then He came. And you made toast for Him--where
_is_ His toast, Gretel?
GRETEL. Oh, Hans! I _dropped_ it when I went to the door!
HANS [_hurries to pick it up_]. Never mind. It didn't hurt
it a bit.
GRETEL [_takes it and brushes it_]. He won't care. Mother's
hearth isn't a bit dusty. [_Both go to_ FRIEDEL.]
GRETEL [_timidly offering him the toast_]. Hans and I
thought you would be hungry, and so we made you some toast.
FRIEDEL. Oh, I am, I am. [_Takes a bite and turns to them._]
I haven't had anything to eat since--since--Oh, I can't remember!
When was it? [_Puts his hand to his head._]
MOTHER [_drawing him gently to lean against her_]. There,
never mind. Eat now.
[GRETEL _and_ HANS _draw away again._
HANS. Are you _sure_ it is the Christ-Child, Gretel?
GRETEL. I don't know. But I think--I think if it was, His
face would be all shining.
MOTHER. Where is your home, my son? And what is your name?
Why were you wandering all alone this bitter night?
FRIEDEL. I am Friedel. Just Friedel. Not anything else. And
I haven't any home. I wish I had. A home is what I was looking for. I
thought perhaps someone would take me in, and let me work to pay for
keeping me. But nobody wants a boy, somehow, nobody. [_Drops his head
in his hands._]
MOTHER [_stroking his head_]. You shall never say that
again, my son. While we have still our little hut, you shall live
with us, and be an elder brother to my little ones.
HANS. You hear that, Gretel? It isn't the Christ-Child,
after all. [_Rubs his fists in his eyes._]
GRETEL. Oh, but Hans, I believe the Christ-Child would like
this almost as much. I mean He would like our putting the candle in
the window, and making the toast and everything for this poor little
boy, almost as much as if it was really for Him. Because it's His
little boy, you know.
[_The chimes begin._
HANS. Really and truly?
GRETEL. Yes, I'm _sure_! Perhaps the Christ-Child sent him
to us. Oh, Hans, listen! The chimes are beginning to ring. [_Both run
to the window to listen. After a moment voices in the distance begin
singing "Oh, Happy Night."_]
[Music: OH, HAPPY NIGHT[6]]
[Footnote 6: Courtesy of Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Company.]
Music written for "Wide Awake"
Words by M.E.B. By LOUIS C. ELSON.
1. Oh, happy night! that brings the morn
To dawn above the Lord new-born,
And bids the angels sing again
Their message to the sons of men,
We hail thee! We hail thee!
2. Oh, happy star! whose radiance sweet
Did guide the wise men's eager feet,
To seek the way unknown, untried,
That led them to the manger's side,
We hail thee! We hail thee!
3. Oh, happy manger! that hath known
This precious burden as thine own,
Beyond all gifts the world doth hold
Of pomp and pow'r and gems and gold,
We hail thee! We hail thee!
4. Oh, happy day! that gave to men
The Babe Divine of Bethlehem,
The King of Kings the undefiled
In semblance of a little child,
We hail thee! We hail thee!
5. Oh, happy Babe! whose wondrous eyes
Still hold the light of Paradise,
Look down in blessing from above
While, Prince of Peace and Lord of Love,
We hail thee! We hail thee!
(Sung by a single voice, several joining in at "We hail
thee!")
GRETEL [_at the end of the first verse_]. Oh, Mother dear,
do you hear the singing?
[_Another verse is sung._
FRIEDEL [_wonderingly_]. What is it? Angels?
[_At the end of the song_ FRITZ _and others are
seen passing the window._ HANS _and_
GRETEL _rush to their_ MOTHER.
GRETEL. Oh, Mother! He's coming! He's coming!
HANS. Yes, he is! I saw him!
MOTHER [_startled_]. Who is coming, my children?
[_The door is flung open and the children rush
in_, ST. NICHOLAS _standing at the door._
HANS _and_ GRETEL. St. Nicholas! St. Nicholas!
ST. NICHOLAS. Yes, old St. Nicholas again. Mother Madelon,
may I come in?
MOTHER. May you come in? Ask the little ones here!
[HANS _and_ GRETEL _run to draw him in._
FRITZ. You see, Mother Madelon, our Heinrich heard you say
the good saint couldn't find you this year----
BARBARA. So we hurried right home----
HEINRICH. And as soon as he came we told him about you----
FRITZ. And begged him to let us show him the way!
JAN. And of course, he came!
KARL _and_ OSCAR. Yes, of course!
MOTHER. It was very thoughtful of you, little friends.
HANS _and_ GRETEL. Thank you, thank you all so much!
GRETEL. Oh, good saint, we were _so_ afraid you wouldn't
come.
HANS. Mother _said_ you couldn't find us.
ST. NICHOLAS. And I doubt if I could have found you, if
it hadn't been for that little gleaming candle that you put in the
window to light my way.
GRETEL [_holding his hand_]. Oh, but, St. Nicholas, we ought
to tell you that we didn't put the candle there for you.
KATRINA. Why, who was it for?
GRETEL [_softly_]. It was for the Christ-Child. We thought
perhaps He would be out in the snow and cold--and we were so warm and
happy!
ST. NICHOLAS. Let me tell you, little Gretel, though the
Christ-Child did not come, it is just as true that He sent me
to you as it is that I was led here by the clear shining of the
Christ-Candle.
CURTAIN
NOTES ON COSTUME AND SETTING
The parts of the Mother and St. Nicholas should be played by adults:
other adult parts taken by young people sixteen to eighteen.
MOTHER MADELON. Plain dark dress, white kerchief, white
peasant's cap.
HANS. (Eight years old.) White shirt, bright-colored vest,
full blue trousers, red stockings. Toboggan cap.
GRETEL. (Six years.) Full white waist, black bodice, red
skirt, or dark skirt and red stockings. White peasant's cap. Both
children may wear wooden shoes.
FRIEDEL. (Boy of nine.) Very ragged coat and trousers. Bare
feet. No hat. (Should be a thin little fellow whose appearance may
give the touch of pathos.)
OLD MARTA. (May be taken by a boy, if preferred.) Poorly
dressed, in old shawl and hood, carrying a bundle of fagots. Face
deeply wrinkled and lined, with an ill-tempered expression.
RICH JOHANN. Velvet coat, flowered vest, full knee-breeches,
shoes with silver buckles. Broad-brimmed felt hat. Silver-headed
cane. Is very pompous.
CROSS JACOB. Rough farm clothes, heavy boots.
WOODCUTTER. Fur cap, warm gloves, high boots. Carries an ax.
Is young, wholesome, rosy with work, and happy.
STAR CHILD. (Child of seven or eight, who can sing.) White
gown, hanging straight from neck to ground, with flowing sleeves.
Carries a gold wand with a star on the end, and wears a star on the
forehead. If taken by a boy, he should wear a short white sleeveless
tunic, white stockings, and sandals.
FRITZ and his sisters and brothers, children from twelve
years down to six, are dressed in ordinary outdoor winter costumes,
with as much as possible of bright color about them.
ST. NICHOLAS differs somewhat from the accepted idea of
Santa Claus, being dignified, benign, and kindly, rather than lively
and jolly. Costume about the same,--long coat, high boots, fur cap,
flowing white beard.
NOTE FOR SNOW SCENE. If not feasible to have a winter
scene for the back drop, cover the back wall with white, and fasten
drooping branches of evergreen at sides, to suggest the limbs of
trees just out of sight. The wings may be treated in the same
way,--or screens, if given in home or schoolroom. Cover the floor
with white, piling with cushions beneath in some places to give an
irregular surface, and to make the bank (R. Center), where Friedel
lies down. Four or five evergreen trees will make an effective
forest, and if quite small, they should be raised to different
heights, and banked about with white. Leave opening between them
(Back Center), in which the Star Child should appear, coming and
going very silently and slowly. Cotton snow upon the little trees and
"diamond-dust" over all, help to make this a very pretty scene.
For chimes, play the music of the carol "Oh, Happy Night" on a
xylophone, behind the scenes.
TOINETTE AND THE ELVES
IN TWO ACTS
CHARACTERS
MOTHER.
TOINETTE, girl of twelve or fourteen.
MARIE, girl of eleven.
JEANNETTE, little girl of five or six.
PIERRE }
MARC } Boys of ten or eleven.
The Elves:
HOLLYBERRY }
MISTLETOE }
EVERGREEN } Little boys of five or six.
ICICLE }
[Illustration: HOLLYBERRY]
TOINETTE AND THE ELVES
From the story by Susan Coolidge, _St. Nicholas_ for January, 1876.
ACT I
TIME: _Christmas Eve._
SCENE: _The kitchen of a peasant cottage. Open fireplace[7]
(R.) with large pot, hung from a crane, or standing directly upon the
logs. On the shelf above, small bowls and spoons. Beside fireplace,
a narrow exit leading to_ TOINETTE'S _room: opposite, door
to other rooms. Outside door, R. Back. L. window. Down stage L. a low
table with small chairs, where the children sit for their supper,
used later by the Elves. Before the fire, a large old-fashioned
wooden rocker._
[Footnote 7: See note on Fireplace, p. 313.]
MOTHER _bends over sewing, near window, from time to time
glancing at_ TOINETTE, _who sits dreamily gazing into the
fire._
MOTHER. Toinette! [TOINETTE, _absorbed in thought,
apparently hears nothing._] Toinette! Bless the child, is she asleep?
Toinette!
TOINETTE [_absently_]. Yes, Mother.
MOTHER. Come, Toinette, it is time to brush the hearth and
set the kettle on to boil.
TOINETTE [_without moving_]. Yes'm, in a minute.
MOTHER [_sharply_]. Toinette, the dusk is coming. It is
nearly supper-time, and the candle must be lit. Come, brush the floor
quickly, child.
TOINETTE [_flinging impatiently out of her chair_]. I hate to work!
[_Sweeps slowly and absently, stopping to lean on her broom. Enter_
MARIE _and_ JEANNETTE, _with sewing and book, and sit down on low
chairs._]
MARIE. Toinette, will you show me how to fasten this off?
TOINETTE [_who has been leaning on her broom, begins
suddenly to sweep_]. No, I won't. I'm busy sweeping.
MARIE. Oh, I didn't know you were busy.
TOINETTE. What are your eyes for? Don't you see me sweeping?
MARIE. Well, you were standing still, and I just thought----
TOINETTE [_sweeping furiously_]. You're always "just
thinking" things.
JEANNETTE. I'm hungry, Mother.
MOTHER. Are you, dear?
TOINETTE [_crossly, leaning on her broom_]. She's always
hungry. I never saw such a little pig.
MARIE [_putting her arms indignantly around_
JEANNETTE]. No, she isn't at all. You're very unkind,
Toinette.
MOTHER. Hush, children. Don't quarrel. [_Shakes her head
sadly and looks perplexed._]
[_Enter_ PIERRE _and_ MARC, _the latter with
knife and bits of wood._ MARC _sits down
against the fireplace, whittling._ PIERRE
_lies at full length before the fire._
JEANNETTE. Will you tell us a story, Toinette?
MARIE [_gently_]. Sh, dear, Toinette's busy, but I wish
she would. She can tell such lovely fairy stories when she likes to.
And this is Christmas Eve, Jeannette. Perhaps the fairies are out,
looking for good children. Fairies are always helping St. Nicholas;
Toinette says so. I wish she would get done sweeping.
JEANNETTE. When you get done, can't you tell just one story,
Toinette?
TOINETTE. Oh, it's so hard to keep thinking up stories
all the time. There now, Marc, you horrid boy, just see how you've
scattered chips all over my clean floor. And, Pierre, your old shoes
are just as dirty as they can be. What's the use of my sweeping,
Mother, when the boys are so careless?
MOTHER. Try to remember to brush your shoes next time,
Pierre. And, Marc, it's better not to bring the whittling into the
house.
TOINETTE. I should think as much.
PIERRE [_getting up_]. I'm sorry I forgot, Mother. Come
along, Marc, we'll go out in the woodshed.
MARC [_giving the chips a brush towards the fireplace with
his cap and then following_ PIERRE]. It's pretty cold in the
woodshed. [_Looking resentfully at_ TOINETTE.] I'd rather be
cold than get scolded all the time. [_Exeunt boys._]
MOTHER [_rises, lights candle, puts saucepan over the
fire_]. Now, Toinette, I have other work to do. Finish brushing
up [TOINETTE _puts down broom_], and set the table. The
porridge is over the fire and will be done soon. If you would put
your mind on it, daughter, and work quickly, you would get done
quickly, and the work would not seem so hard. [_Exit._]
TOINETTE [_seizes a tablecloth and approaches the table_].
Work quickly! Marie, how ever can I set the table with you and
Jeannette in the way, I'd like to know?
MARIE. We'll go in Mother's room, Toinette. [_Takes_
JEANNETTE _by the hand. Exeunt._]
TOINETTE [_covering table and slapping bowls and spoons
pettishly down upon it_]. Work quickly! Don't I work and work all
the time? And I'm never done. The work seems hard because it _is_
hard, that's why. Oh, if we weren't so poor, and didn't have to work
so hard! [_Relaxes her efforts and stands before the fire, dish in
hand._] And if we could have beautiful Christmas presents to-morrow,
instead of just--anything. [_A very gentle knock at the door._]
Oh, what was that? [_Opens._] The boys must be playing tricks on
me. [_Knocks again._] Surely, there is someone there. [_Opens door
and steps outside._ HOLLYBERRY _slips in behind her and
hides behind the door. Re-enter_ TOINETTE.] It must be the
fairies, I think. [_Stands looking out._] This is Christmas Eve and
of course it's the right time for good fairies to be about. How I
wish I could see one!
HOLLYBERRY. Do you, Toinette? Just open your eyes and you
will, then.
TOINETTE [_jumping, rubs her eyes and looks about_]. Where?
Oh, where?
[HOLLYBERRY _comes from behind the door
and makes a low bow._
TOINETTE [_clasping her hands with delight_]. Oh, are you
really a fairy?
HOLLYBERRY [_hands on hips_]. Yes, I think I'm a pretty real
sort of a fairy. We elves have heard you talking about us and you
always tell what's true, so we like you.
TOINETTE. Oh, I'm so glad, because I _love_ fairies. The
children do too, and they are always teasing me to tell them fairy
tales.
HOLLYBERRY. I am the leader of the band of elves. My name is
Hollyberry, and I've come with a message to you. I told you the elves
and fairies all like you. So we are going to give you a Christmas
present.
TOINETTE. Oh, oh! how kind you are.
HOLLYBERRY [_arms folded, nodding his head_]. Yes, we are.
Very kind. But people don't always think so. Toinette, how would you
like to be invisible?
TOINETTE. Invisible? Oh, do you mean to go around wherever I
like without being seen? Oh, what fun!
HOLLYBERRY. That's exactly what I mean. _We_ can do it, at
any time, because we know how. But mortals like you can only do it on
Christmas Eve, and then only when we help them.
TOINETTE. Do you mean you are going to show me how?
HOLLYBERRY. That's it. There are two things you must do.
First you must put fern seed in your shoes.
TOINETTE. Fern seed? Why, I didn't even know ferns had
seeds. I never saw any.
HOLLYBERRY. Of course not. The elves take very good care of
that.
TOINETTE. Where shall I get any?
HOLLYBERRY. I'll attend to that. The second thing is to put
on the Cloak of Darkness.
TOINETTE. The Cloak of Darkness! What is that?
HOLLYBERRY. Don't be impatient, Toinette. [_Waves his holly
wand and snaps his fingers above his head. The door opens and the
other elves enter, carrying between them the gray cloak and a tiny
bag._]
ELVES [_kneeling before_ TOINETTE _and presenting
bag and cloak_]. Hail, Toinette!
HOLLYBERRY [_touching the kneeling elves as he names them_].
Evergreen and Mistletoe, present the magic Cloak of Darkness. Icicle,
yield the fairy fern seed. Now, Toinette, put a pinch of fern seed in
each shoe, wrap the cloak around you, and _then_,--well, nobody but
an elf can find you.
MISTLETOE. The charm is only for to-night.
HOLLYBERRY. And if you get tired of it before bedtime----
EVERGREEN. Take off the cloak----
ICICLE. And empty your shoes----
HOLLYBERRY. And, presto! Toinette is herself again. Now,
farewell. [_All bow low and go to door._]
ICICLE. Good-by.
MISTLETOE. We'll take care of the cloak when you're done
with it.
EVERGREEN. We hope you'll like our Christmas present.
[_Exeunt elves, laughing mischievously._
TOINETTE [_looking after them_]. What cunning little
fellows! Oh, what fun. [_Examines cloak._] I'll put it on right away.
[_Exit (R.)._]
[_Enter_ MOTHER _(L.), going at once to the fire._
MOTHER. Why, where is Toinette? The porridge is almost
boiling over. Come, children,--Marie, Jeannette, boys. Supper is
ready.
[_Enter children and take their places at table._
MOTHER _fills bowls from saucepan while
they talk._
MOTHER [_calls_]. Toinette, come to supper, daughter.
[_Enter_ TOINETTE _in cloak. All are unconscious
of her presence._
MOTHER [_giving bread to children, who eat hungrily_]. Where
can Toinette be? Boys, have you seen her?
MARC. No, Mother, she lets us alone when we keep out of her
way.
MOTHER. For shame, Marc. Pierre, go call her,--she may be in
her room. [PIERRE _crosses the room, almost bumping into_
TOINETTE, _who stands in the way._]
PIERRE [_at door_]. Toinette! Toinette! We're at supper.
[_A moment's silence._ TOINETTE _giggles._] She isn't here,
Mother.
MARIE. I'm sure I heard her laughing.
MOTHER. Listen. [TOINETTE _covers her mouth to
stifle a laugh._ PIERRE _sits down again and eats._]
TOINETTE [_aside_]. This is such fun. But I'm hungry,--how
am I going to get anything to eat? [_Goes close to the table and,
watching her chance, slips_ MARC'S _bread off the table and
eats._]
MARC. Where's my bread? You took it, Pierre.
PIERRE. I did not. Here's my own.
MARIE. You must have dropped it on the floor.
MARC [_looking under chair_]. No, I didn't.
MARIE. Well, you ate it, then.
MARC. I never. [TOINETTE _laughs silently._]
MOTHER. Here's another piece. Never mind where that is gone.
I only wish Toinette had it. [TOINETTE _nearly chokes._] The
child must have gone out. I will go to the gate and look down the
road. [_Exit._]
JEANNETTE. Poor Toinette's all gone.
MARC. Perhaps a bear has eaten her up.
PIERRE. If he has, I mean to ask Mother if I can't have her
room.
MARIE. Marc, don't talk so, you'll frighten Jeannette.
MARC. Well, perhaps it's true.
MARIE. Well, you know you'd be sorry if it was.
PIERRE. I wouldn't be very sorry.
MARIE [_horrified_]. Oh, you bad boy.
PIERRE. Well, of course I don't want her to be _hurt_.
MARC. But we wouldn't care much if she didn't come back.
MARIE. Boys, how can you be so naughty?
PIERRE. But, Marie, Toinette never does a thing but scold us
when she's around.
MARIE. She tells us _beautiful_ fairy stories sometimes.
MARC. That's just it--"sometimes." You don't catch her doing
it unless she wants to.
PIERRE. And she's just a regular old spoil-sport.
MARC. Oh, bother about Toinette. She'll come back a good
deal sooner than we want her. Can't you talk about anything else?
MARIE [_doubtfully_]. Well, it is pleasanter when she isn't
here, I know.
PIERRE. Of course it is.
MARIE. But I hope she's having a good time somewhere else.
[_Throughout this conversation_ TOINETTE _listens,
horrified at first, then angry, then
distressed; at one moment about to exclaim,
then starting forward to strike one
of the boys, and at last covering her face
with her hands and crying. Enter_
MOTHER.
MOTHER [_anxiously_]. Not a trace can I see of her. Children, have
you eaten your porridge? Marie, take Jeannette to bed. [_Exeunt_
MARIE _and_ JEANNETTE.] Boys, go out and cut some wood for our
Christmas fire. [_Exeunt boys._] There will be no Christmas in this
house unless Toinette comes back soon. [_Sits down in the rocker to
warm herself._] Dear, dear, she is a good girl, and a clever girl,
but she is a sore puzzle to me. What can make her so thoughtless and
careless and full of discontent? Why, even little Marie is a greater
help to me than she is.
[_Exit_ TOINETTE _in great distress._ MOTHER
_sits in silence. Enter_ TOINETTE _without
cloak, throwing herself on her knees at her
mother's feet._
TOINETTE. Oh, Mother, Mother! [_Buries her face in her
mother's lap._]
MOTHER [_trying to raise her_]. Toinette, my child! Where
have you been all this time?
TOINETTE [_with great excitement, half crying_]. Oh, I've
been here--right here--all the time, only you couldn't see me.
MOTHER. Toinette!
TOINETTE. Yes, Mother, it's all true. I'll tell you. A fairy
came and lent me the Cloak of Darkness--and--and--I thought it would
be such fun, but it was horrid. And then the children--they said such
cruel things. Mother, don't they love me at all?
MOTHER. Mercy, mercy, what is all this about?
Fairies--cloak of darkness--the child must have a fever. [_Feels_
TOINETTE'S _forehead and takes her hand as if to count her
pulse._]
TOINETTE. No, no! I'm not sick at all. But, Mother, don't
you love me?
MOTHER [_puts her arm about_ TOINETTE]. Love you,
my child? Mother _always_ loves you.
TOINETTE. But you said I didn't help you. Oh, I wish the
fairy had never given me the cloak.
MOTHER. Fairies again! [_Anxiously._] I must put the child
to bed at once. Stay by the fire, Toinette. I will get your bed
ready. [_Rises, leaving_ TOINETTE _seated on the floor by
chair. Exit_ MOTHER.]
TOINETTE [_slowly_]. Mother thinks I dreamed it--or that
I'm sick. But I'm not. It's all true, it's all true. [_Covers her
face with her hands._] How could the children be so unkind?...
But perhaps I'm not always kind to the children. The boys are so
provoking--but then I needn't scold them even if they are. And Marie
must care a little, for she hoped I was happy somewhere. Happy! How
can I be happy? [_Gazes at the fire._] Perhaps if I began now, and
tried and tried every day, I could be kinder--to the children--and
then they would love me more--and I could try to help Mother--and
then she needn't be so tired all the time---- And surely, then I
would be happy. [_Brightly, facing audience, hands clasped on one
knee._] Yes, that's just what I'll do. And now, perhaps I can help
Mother this very minute---- I'll take the candle up to her. [_Jumps
up, takes candle from table, pauses in center of the stage._] It is
Christmas--I do think that if I begin to-morrow to try to be kind, I
will surely succeed. Because Christmas is the very best and happiest
day in all the whole year. It was on Christmas Day the angels first
sang about Peace on earth, good will to men.
CURTAIN
ACT II
TIME: _One year later. Christmas Eve._
SCENE: _Curtain rises showing_ TOINETTE _and_
MARIE _seated, sewing_; JEANNETTE _sits upon the
floor, leaning against_ TOINETTE'S _knee_; MARC
_leans over the back of her chair_; PIERRE _sits in the big
chair rocking and looking on. All are singing a Christmas carol.
Enter_ MOTHER, _pausing a moment in doorway to watch and
smile at the group._
MOTHER. Come, chickabiddies, it is time to stop work.
MARIE [_going to_ MOTHER]. Oh, Mother, must we stop
now? Toinette was just going to tell us the Christmas story about the
Shepherds and the Star in the East.
MOTHER. It is supper-time now, and Toinette must set the
table. [_Exit._]
PIERRE. And after supper comes bedtime. Oh, dear.
TOINETTE [_cheerfully folding her work_]. Never mind,
Pierre, I'll tell it to you to-morrow.
MARC. That'll be Christmas day, Toinette. I wish you could
tell it on Christmas Eve.
TOINETTE. Oh, I think I can tell it better on Christmas day,
Marc. Now we all have something to do,--let's get to work. Who will
fetch water for me to-night?
MARC _and_ PIERRE [_springing for the pitcher_]. I
will, I will.
MARC. It's my turn, Pierre.
PIERRE. No, you nearly always get water for Toinette. I'm
going to.
TOINETTE. Let Pierre get the water, Marc, and you go and cut
the wood.
MARC _and_ PIERRE. All right, Toinette. [_Exeunt._]
MARIE. What can we do for you, Toinette, dear?
TOINETTE. Nothing just now, I think. [TOINETTE _is
spreading the cloth and setting the bowls and spoons._]
JEANNETTE. But _we_ want to help, too, dear Toinette.
[_Clings to her skirt._]
TOINETTE. I'll tell you what. I'd rather send my two little
helpers in to see what they can do for poor busy Mother. She needs
them more than I do. [_Exit_ JEANNETTE.]
MARIE [_following_]. Won't that be helping you too, Toinette?
TOINETTE. Yes, dear. [_Exit_ MARIE.] How good the
children are to-night! I do think they are the best brothers and
sisters a girl ever had. [_Lighting the candle._] And I think they
love me more than they ever used to. Oh, I'm so glad! [_Tap at the
door._] There is someone knocking. [_Goes to the door._]
HOLLYBERRY [_bowing low_]. How do you do, Toinette? A Merry
Christmas to you.
TOINETTE. Oh, how wonderful. It's Hollyberry again, and I
was just thinking about you. Won't you come in?
HOLLYBERRY. Just for a moment. [_Enter_ HOLLYBERRY.
TOINETTE _closes the door._] I've brought you a Christmas
present, Toinette. [_Holds out cloak and fern-seed bag._]
TOINETTE [_retreating, hands behind her_]. Oh, no, no, no!
I know what those are, and I don't want them. Oh! Hollyberry, they
made me so unhappy last year.
HOLLYBERRY. You didn't like the elves' gift, then?
TOINETTE. Oh, it was horrid--I _hated_ it.
HOLLYBERRY [_severely_]. Do you call that being grateful?
TOINETTE [_confused_]. Oh, no--I mean, yes--that is, it was
very kind of you--but I didn't like it. Oh, dear!
HOLLYBERRY [_kindly_]. Never mind, Toinette, I'm only
teasing you now. And I advise you to take the fern seed. You will
like it better this year, I'm sure.
TOINETTE [_anxiously_]. Truly?
HOLLYBERRY. Truly. [TOINETTE _takes bag and
cloak._] And if you like it we are going to ask a favor of you. We
want you to make us some fern-seed broth.
TOINETTE. Fern-seed broth?
HOLLYBERRY. Yes, elves are very fond of it, but they don't
get any very often, because it has to be made over a fire, and you
see we're afraid of fire. We're so little and light, we might be
blown in and burned up.
TOINETTE. But how shall I make it?
HOLLYBERRY. It's very easy. We'll show you how. And now,
good-by. We'll come in by and by when the children are in bed. [_Exit
with a bow._]
TOINETTE [_looking gravely at cloak and bag_]. Oh, do I dare
use them? I have tried to be kinder--I know the children love me
more---- Yes, I will. [_Runs out. Boys singing carol in the distance.
Enter boys singing, with pitcher and wood. Enter_ MOTHER,
MARIE, _and_ JEANNETTE.]
MOTHER. Why, the supper is all ready, but where is that busy
bee of ours, Toinette? [_Goes to door as if to call._]
PIERRE [_catches her arm_]. Oh, Mother, wait a moment; don't
call her yet! You know we've made her some Christmas gifts, and we
want to put them on her plate and surprise her.
MOTHER. Run and get them.
MARC [_under his breath_]. Hurry, quick, everybody.
[_Exit children in haste._ MOTHER _takes saucepan
from fire and fills bowls. Enter children
singing carol, each bearing a homemade
gift. They place the presents about_
TOINETTE'S _place, and all take their places
at the table, sitting with folded hands until
hymn is ended. During the singing_ TOINETTE
_enters, dressed in cloak, and stands
near door (R.), her hands clasped in
pleasure at the sight._
MARC [_looking towards the door_]. Oh, I wish Toinette would
hurry.
MARIE. Won't she be surprised?
PIERRE. And won't she _look_ jolly surprised, too? I love to
see Toinette when she's surprised. Her eyes get so big and shiny, and
she just stares.
MARC. Andrew, the blacksmith's son, thinks his sister is
prettier than our Toinette, but _I_ don't.
PIERRE [_in great scorn_]. Aw! I should think not. Our
Toinette is just the prettiest girl in the village.
MARIE. And the very nicest, too!
MOTHER [_smiling_]. And Toinette is Mother's right hand. We
all love Toinette! Don't we?
TOINETTE [_softly_]. Oh, the dear little things! I can't
wait a minute longer. [_Exit quickly._]
CHILDREN [_calling_]. Toinette! Toinette! [_Enter_
TOINETTE _without cloak. Shows great surprise._]
CHILDREN. Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, Toinette!
TOINETTE. Oh, oh! what do I see? [_Sits down in her place._]
Oh, did you make these lovely things, children?
PIERRE. Yes, mademoiselle, we did!
MARC. Every one of them.
MARIE. Nobody helped us.
JEANNETTE. All for you, Toinette, all for you! [_Leaves her
chair and throws her arms around_ TOINETTE.]
TOINETTE [_kissing her_]. Oh, thank you, thank you! How
_beautifully_ these are made. [_Looks them over one at a time._] How
good everyone is. I'm so happy I don't know what to do.
PIERRE. And to-morrow's Christmas! Hurrah!
MOTHER. Yes, dear, but if you don't go to bed and to sleep,
Christmas won't come. [_Takes_ JEANNETTE _by the hand._] We
will leave you to finish, Toinette.
CHILDREN. Good-night, Toinette!
TOINETTE. Good-night, everyone! [MARIE _and_
JEANNETTE _throw their arms about_ TOINETTE.]
MARIE. Good-night again, dear Toinette! [_Exeunt all but_
TOINETTE, _who clears the table, shakes off crumbs, and sets
fresh bowls and spoons. The children are heard singing carol. When
all is ready and the song is done_, TOINETTE _goes to outer
door and looks out. After a moment the elves rush in._]
ELVES. Here we are, Toinette, here we are!
HOLLYBERRY. Now let's proceed to business. Where is the
saucepan, Toinette! Icicle, give me the honey-dew; Mistletoe, you
have the fern seed.
[TOINETTE _produces the saucepan and the
elves crowd around her and hand her the
articles named. The honey-dew is supposed
to be in a jar--or pitcher--or anything
curious or unusual in appearance;
the fern seed in a quaint box._
HOLLYBERRY. Now, Evergreen, give me the holly stick she must
stir it with.
[TOINETTE _puts it on the fire, the elves watching
with great interest._
HOLLYBERRY. It's very simple, but it must be made with great
care.
MISTLETOE. You must always stir it the same way!
EVERGREEN. Or else it will curdle.
ICICLE. And you must _never_ let it scorch!
[TOINETTE _bends over fire, stirring broth. A
very gay waltz in very quick time is played
softly outside, and the four elves dance and
tumble about, coming up one at a time to
peep over_ TOINETTE'S _shoulder. They
show great fear of the fire, however._
TOINETTE. Now, little Elves, the feast is ready!
ELVES. Oh, joy! Oh, joy! [_All seat themselves at table_,
TOINETTE _pours out broth, and they eat. Music continues_,
TOINETTE _refills bowls, and elves drink from them, tipping
their heads far back and making grotesque motions. Music grows
fainter. Elves rise and bow to_ TOINETTE.]
ELVES. Thank you, Toinette! Thank you!
EVERGREEN. We've had a merry feast.
MISTLETOE. And fairies are never ungrateful.
ICICLE. When you need us, you'll find us ready.
[EVERGREEN, MISTLETOE, _and_ ICICLE _go outside
and stand about door._ HOLLYBERRY
_remains within._
TOINETTE. But I haven't thanked you at all!
HOLLYBERRY. No need of that, Toinette. [_He brushes
door-post with his holly wand._] Be lucky, house! We are the
luck-bringers, and we have feasted here! [_Touches_ TOINETTE
_on the head and hands._] Be lucky, Toinette! Good temper, and
kindness, and unselfishness are the very best good luck, after all.
Now, good-by!
ELVES. Good-by, good-by! Merry Christmas to all!
[_Exeunt._ TOINETTE _closes the door and goes
slowly to hearth, where she sits down on
floor, resting her arm on a chair and her
head on her hand._
TOINETTE [_softly_]. The fairies have been here, and they
have taught me a lesson.... After all, it isn't the fairies who make
the children love me, or me love the children.... I think--yes, I'm
sure--that it is Christmas that makes us all love each other!
[_Her head drops, and she falls asleep. The
children's voices are heard, singing, very
softly and distinctly, the last verse of the
carol_:
"Thank God on Christmas morning!
Thank God, O children dear."
CURTAIN
NOTES ON COSTUME AND SETTING
The children are dressed in peasant costumes, the girls in bright
skirts and stockings, white guimpes, black velvet bodices, and
Normandy caps; the boys in full trousers, bright stockings, vests of
green or blue, fastening in the back, white shirts with full sleeves,
and toboggan caps. Toinette wears shoes with buckles; the others may
wear the same, or sabots.
MOTHER. Plain dark dress, with full skirt; kerchief on her
shoulders, and a white cap.
The magic "Cloak of Darkness" brought by the Elves for Toinette, is a
long cape, with hood attached, made of light gray canton flannel.
The Fern-seed Bag may be made of a bit of the same material, or of
the colors of Hollyberry's costume.
The Elves wear harlequin costumes in two shades of the same color,
with tall pointed hoods, and long shoes with toes turned up. Gilt
bells on all points of collar, jacket, and hood. See illustration.
Sateen is perhaps the best material for these little suits, as it
comes in a great variety of rich shades, but cheaper goods may be
found.
HOLLYBERRY. Dark red and scarlet. He carries a holly branch
in lieu of a wand.
MISTLETOE. Brown and yellow. In Act II he carries an odd box
supposed to be full of fern seed.
EVERGREEN. Dark and light green. In Act II he produces the
holly stick for stirring the broth.
ICICLE. Dark and light blue. In Act II he carries a small
jar or pitcher,--something curious or unusual in appearance,--which
is supposed to contain the honey-dew.
Instead of the gilt bells, the points of these suits may be trimmed
with bits of holly, mistletoe, evergreen, and glass icicles, as
indicated by the names.
In setting the stage, it is effective to make small windows, with
diamond-shaped panes, and white sash-curtains, placing small pots of
scarlet geraniums on the sills.
The song is "Good News on Christmas Morning," from _St. Nicholas
Songs_ (Century Company).
Where music is indicated through the play, any part of the carol is
sung, except the last verse, which is used only once, just before the
last curtain. For the Elves' dance, the Pizzicato from the ballet
"Sylvia" by Delibes, Dvorak's "Humoresque," or a waltz, very lightly
played, may be used.
TOM'S PLAN
IN TWO ACTS
CHARACTERS
FATHER WRIGHT.
MOTHER WRIGHT.
PHIL }
DAISY }
CHARLIE } The little Wrights.
TOM }
DOT }
SARAH, the nurse.
SANTA CLAUS.
TOM'S PLAN
ACT I
TIME: _Christmas Eve._
SCENE: _Nursery or sitting-room, children sitting about,
each working upon a Christmas gift. Nurse at one side with her
work-basket. All singing a Christmas carol._[8]
[Footnote 8: See note on Carols, p. 315.]
DAISY. I just can't believe that to-morrow really will be
Christmas!... What do you think of that for a book-mark? [_Holds it
up._] Don't you suppose Papa will be pleased?
PHIL [_driving a last nail into a bootjack_]. Papa says he
can't get his new boots off. If he can't do it now, with this, I'm
sure he never will be able to. Isn't that fine?
SARAH. Sure, Master Phil, he'll be wantin' a new house to
kape that big thing in!
DAISY. Now, Sarah, you mustn't say that! You know Papa
always likes the things we make for him.
DOT [_crossing to_ SARAH]. Sarah, please fasten my
thread.... Now, my spectacle-wiper is done. Oh, boys, don't you wish
it was to-morrow morning!
TOM. You bet! I'm going to do Papa's knife up in a great big
bundle, so he'll think it's a pair of slippers or a book, anyway, and
see how surprised he'll be.
CHARLIE [_clapping his hands_]. What fun! Say, Tom, don't
you wish we could _see_ Santa Claus?
PHIL. Let's try and stay awake all night.
DOT. No! you bad boys! Santa Claus doesn't like to have
children see him when he comes to put things in the stockings.
DAISY. No, of course he doesn't. And, besides, Mamma has a
better way. She told me to ask you all whether you would rather hang
your stockings this year, or get Santa Claus to come and bring us a
tree.
CHARLIE. Oh, jolly! But how is Santa Claus going to know in
time?
PHIL. That's what I'd like to know.
DAISY. I asked Papa that, and he said, Oh, he guessed he
could telegraph.
TOM. Then do let's have him come here!
CHILDREN. Oh, yes, let's!
DOT. I want to thank him for my dolly's bed that he brought
last year.
DAISY. Well, I'll go tell Mamma. [_Exit._]
SARAH. Ye'd all better come down and wrap up yer things now.
PHIL. All right. Come along. [_Exeunt all but_ TOM.]
TOM. I'll be along in a minute. [_Looks up chimney._] I'm
so glad Santa Claus is coming this year. [_Crosses to front of stage
and sits astride a small chair with its back to audience._] There are
so many things I want to know about him. I'm just going to count.
[_Checks off on his fingers._] First, I want to know where he lives.
Daisy says he lives at the North Pole, and she's got a picture of
his house, with icicles and snow all over it. But then he always
brings us oranges and bananas and nuts and figs, and I know _they_
don't grow at the North Pole. I wish I could find out. Next, what he
feeds the reindeer on. Next, how he ever gets all the things into
the sleigh. How fast the reindeer can go. And whether they ever get
balky. He'd be late all the time if they did. Horses do, but perhaps
reindeer are different. But the one thing I'd rather know than all
the others put together, is just this: Sarah _said_, the other day
when I took a bite out of one of her hot pies, that Santa Claus
[_very slowly and impressively_] would put a whip in my stocking!
Now I wonder if he would do that? [_Thinks awhile, then shakes his
head._] No, no! I don't believe he would. He's always smiling in his
pictures, and he looks so jolly. And then, if anybody wanted to spend
all his time giving presents, like Santa Claus, I don't believe he
would ever put ashes or whips in anybody's stocking, just because
he forgot the pie was for company.... Oh, dear! I wish I did know.
[_Jumps up suddenly, puts one knee on the chair, and holds on to the
back with both hands._] Oh! Oh! I've got such a splendid plan! It'll
be easy enough to find out, after all. I don't really want anything
for Christmas this year ... 'cept maybe a sled, and ... well, I guess
Phil will let me coast on his sled. Now, I'm going to be just as
cross, _as cross as a bear_, to-night and _see_ if Santa Claus will
give me a whip. I don't care--I know he won't! Anyway, Mamma never
lets anybody whip me--only Papa--and if Santa Claus wants me whipped
he'll have to give the whip to Papa. There! I hear somebody coming.
I'm just going to begin right off.
CHARLIE [_calling, without_]. Tom, Tom! Aren't you coming to
wrap up your things?
TOM [_very crossly_]. No!
CHARLIE [_much surprised_]. _Why_ not?
TOM. Don't want to. [_Chuckles._] He sounded rather
surprised. I guess they won't know what to make of it. It'll be such
fun! [_Sits astride chair again._] Here comes somebody else. I won't
look around. [_Puts his head down on his arms. Enter_ DOT.]
DOT. Tom!
TOM. What do you want?
DOT [_timidly_]. What's the matter, Tom?
TOM. Ain't nothing the matter.
DOT [_aside_]. Oh, dear! Tom, do you want me to wrap up the
knife for you?
TOM. Can if you want to. Here. [_Takes it from his pocket
and hands it to her without looking up._]
DOT [_aside_]. What can be the matter? We can't any of us be
happy if Tom isn't. [_Exit, putting her handkerchief to her eyes._]
TOM [_looking after her_]. 'Tisn't so much fun as I thought.
[_Puts his head down. Enter_ SARAH.]
SARAH [_hands on hips, looking at_ TOM]. Well, what
'ud be the trouble here? [_Goes about, putting things to rights.
Dusts chair, giving_ TOM _a brush._]
TOM [_hits out at her_]. Go 'way!
SARAH. Oh, is that yerself?
TOM. Yes, it's meself.
SARAH. Well, what's the matter wid yerself?
TOM. Never you mind what! [_The other children run in._]
DAISY. Oh, Sarah, Sarah, give us our coats, quick! Papa says
he'll take us along Fourth Street, to see the shop windows lighted up!
CHARLIE. Do hurry, Sarah!
DAISY. I can't find my mittens!
DOT [_softly, nudging_ PHIL]. Phil, tell Tom to
come.
PHIL. Come along, Tom, and be quick!
TOM. Won't.
PHIL. You _won't_?
CHARLIE. Why not?
TOM. Don't want to.
CHARLIE. Well, then, don't! Come on, Dot! [_Takes her by the arm, and
leads her out._ PHIL _and_ DAISY _look at_ TOM.]
DAISY. Please come, Tom.
TOM. I tell you I won't.
DAISY. We'll have such fun.
TOM. Well, you can have it for all me.
PHIL. See here, Tom, don't be a donkey! Come along! [_Takes
him by the arm._]
TOM [_shakes him off_]. Get out!
DAISY. Well, I suppose we'll have to go without him. Papa is
waiting. [_They start._] Phil, what is the matter with Tom?
PHIL. I don't know. Dot said he was cross----
[_Exeunt._
SARAH. Ye'd betther remember what I was a-tellin' ye, Master
Tom. Ye gettin' ready for the stick?
TOM. You be still and clear out, Sarah!
SARAH. Oh, I'm a-goin'--I'm a-goin'! Shall I tell Santa
Claus to make it out of rattan, Master Tom?
TOM. Go on out, I say! [_Chases her out._] Well, it's some fun to
be cross to Sarah, but I really don't like to be cross to Dot and
the others. Oh, dear! I wish I didn't have to. [_Sees_ SARAH'S
_dust-cloth, which he rolls into a wad and tucks into a cap lying on
one of the chairs._] He-he! that'll fix her. Now she can't find it.
[_Enter_ SARAH. TOM _sits down by the fire, holding his knee._] What
do you want?
SARAH. Oh, my clearin'-up's not done yet! I declare, if I've redd
up this room once, I've done it forty times this day. [_Straightens
things, then looks for her duster._ TOM _watches slyly._] Did I take
that cloth downstairs wid me? Sure, I know I didn't. Where did I put
it, then? 'Tain't here annywheres. Maybe that little squirrel hid it.
Seen my duster, Tom?
TOM. No, I don't see your duster.
SARAH. Did I ax ye if ye saw it now? I said, have ye sane it?
TOM. And I said I didn't see it.
SARAH. Well, ye little fox, I know yer tricks, and I'll find
it yet. Them as hides, finds, but sometimes other folks can find,
too, when they know who did the hiding. Ah! what did I tell ye! I've
got it at last. I knew ye put it somewheres. Now I can get my work
done.
TOM. Well, don't you bother me.
SARAH [_stands with hands on hips, looking at_ TOM,
_who scowls at her_]. If I were you, I wouldn't scowl like that,
Master Tom; yer furhead might stay that way.
TOM. If I were you, I wouldn't either.
SARAH. Ye don't look a bit pretty, Master Tom.
TOM. You don't have to look at me.
SARAH. See, this is what ye look like. [_Makes a face and
hunches up her shoulders._ TOM _refuses to look._] Do ye
think that's rale handsome? [_Aside._] Well, since I can't t'ase ye
into a good humor, I'll go on down.
[_Exit._
TOM. I did want to laugh at her awfully. If she comes in
again, I think I'll just have to.
[_Enter_ DAISY _and_ PHIL.
DAISY. We didn't go far, because it was so late. Phil,
did you ever see anything so perfectly grand as that last window?
[_Taking off things._]
PHIL. Never! Don't I wish I had that air-rifle!
DAISY. I'd rather have the doll's piano than anything else.
[_Enter_ SARAH _with_ DOT _and_ CHARLIE.
SARAH _takes children's coats, etc._
SARAH. Here, give me yer coats. Now just sit down and get
warm for a minute, and then ye've got to go to bed. Yer Ma said so.
DAISY. Let's sing while we're here. We don't know our new
carol very well. [_All begin to sing a carol._ TOM _claps,
stamps, whistles, and bangs his chair up and down, to put them out.
They stop._]
CHARLIE. See here, Tom, if you don't want to sing, you don't
have to, but you shan't stop us!
SARAH. No, sir! That ye shall not. Ye can't stay here makin'
disturbances, so just be off with ye to bed. [_Pushes him out.
Children sing a carol, and curtain falls during last verse._]
CURTAIN
ACT II
TIME: _Christmas morning._
SCENE: _Sitting-room with open fire [back Center] in
fireplace through which_ SANTA CLAUS _may enter._
FATHER _and_ MOTHER _sitting by fire_,
FATHER _with paper_, MOTHER _sewing._ PHIL
_and_ CHARLIE _in one corner [R. Front], reading together._
DAISY _and_ DOT _[L. Front] with dolls._
DAISY. And I caught Mamma! I hid behind the door, and jumped
out and shouted "Merry Christmas!" before she saw me at all.
DOT [_leaning towards_ DAISY]. Daisy, let's say it
to Santa Claus.
DAISY. Oh, do you suppose he would like it?
DOT. Why not?
DAISY. Yes, I guess he would. Dear Santa Claus, nobody ever
thinks of saying "Merry Christmas" to him.
DOT. Poor man! Well, Daisy, his little boys and girls might
say it to him.
DAISY. Oh, Dot! He hasn't any little boys and girls to say
it. Don't you know he's an old man, oh, hundreds of years old? And if
he ever did have any little boys and girls, they're all grown up by
this time.
DOT. Maybe he's got some grandchildren.
DAISY. No, I don't believe he has, for then why do they let
him do all the work? Nobody ever fills stockings but Santa Claus.
DOT. Poor Santa Claus! He must get very tired.
DAISY. I wonder ... I wonder who keeps house for Santa Claus?
DOT. Maybe nobody does.
DAISY. Oh, yes! He must have somebody to make his fires, and
cook his meals, and darn his socks.
DOT. Why, he doesn't wear socks. Don't you know, he's all
dressed in fur in the pictures. But perhaps fur wears out and has to
be mended. I'd like to help her do it.
DAISY. Perhaps she's a real cross, ugly woman, and scolds
him when he stays out too long filling stockings, and doesn't give
him enough sugar in his tea, and never lets him have but one cup!
DOT [_shaking her head_]. Poor Santa Claus! Aren't you sorry
for him, Daisy? I am. [DAISY _nods._] Daisy, if he hasn't
any little children, I don't suppose anybody ever gives him any
Christmas presents?
DAISY [_pityingly_]. No, I don't suppose anyone ever does.
DOT [_excitedly_]. Oh, Daisy, let's _us_ give him a present
this year!
DAISY. Oh, how splendid! Of course we will. But what do you
think he would like?
DOT. Let's think. He travels all the time. Perhaps he would
like a comb and brush case.
DAISY. Dot! You don't suppose he can ever comb out all that
hair! It's a great deal too thick and snarly. He doesn't use a comb
and brush.
DOT. Well, I'll give him my new purse.
DAISY. Santa Claus doesn't need a pocketbook to carry
money--he doesn't buy things.
DOT. But he might come to a toll-gate on the road, sometime.
DAISY. All right. And I'll give him my silk muffler, for I'm
afraid his housekeeper doesn't give him enough warm clothes. Come,
let's get them. [_Exeunt._]
CHARLIE. What's this picture about, Phil?
PHIL. That's where Santa Claus is coming down our chimney.
CHARLIE. I wonder why he likes to come down chimneys? I'd
have a latchkey, and come in at the front door.
PHIL. Everybody doesn't have a front door just like ours,
Charlie. His key wouldn't fit all the doors.
CHARLIE. But I'd have a magic key, that did. When Papa
shaves, and puts that white stuff all over his face, he looks just
like Santa Claus, but he wouldn't look like him long if he put his
head up the chimney. Santa Claus must get very dirty,--perhaps he
looks like the chimney-sweep.
PHIL. Oh, no, he doesn't. You'll see how he looks pretty
soon. Come along, let's try our new sleds.
[_Exeunt._
MOTHER. My dear, I want to speak to you. [FATHER
_drops paper._] Sarah tells me that Tom has been very naughty and
cross. He wouldn't do as she told him, and was disagreeable to the
other children.
FATHER. Tom! Why, he's the best-tempered chicken I've got.
MOTHER. I believe you think so just because he's named after
you. But he is really dreadfully provoking sometimes, and I don't
know what to do with him now.
FATHER. Oh, ho! You've given up in despair, and want to fall
back on me?
MOTHER. Not at all. But I'd like your advice. Would you pay
no attention to it, or would you take him to task for his naughtiness?
FATHER. Mary, I always told you you couldn't manage the
boys. You are too gentle and yielding. You are never strict enough.
You ought to be firm, my dear!
MOTHER. Firm like yourself? Oh, Tom, who was it that
wouldn't punish the boys when they played truant, and pretended to
know nothing about it when they went in swimming unbeknownst?
FATHER. Oh, well, Mary, you couldn't expect me to be hard on
them for the very things I did myself!
MOTHER. I knew I couldn't, so I attended to them myself.
But I'll just send Tom in here, and let you try your luck with him.
[_Exit._]
FATHER. Try my luck, indeed! I flatter myself that I'll soon
bring him around. [_Stands before fire. Enter_ TOM, _very
slowly, hands in pockets._] Good-morning, Tom. [_Very pleasantly._]
TOM [_mutters_]. Morning.
FATHER. That is no way to speak, my son. Good-morning, Tom.
TOM [_a little louder_]. Morning.
FATHER. See here, Tom, we can't have this. Your mother says
you haven't been very good.
TOM. Don't care.
FATHER. Thomas, that is not a respectful way to speak to
your father. What do you mean by it, sir? [_No answer._] Do you mean
to tell me? [TOM _is silent, and stands looking down and
kicking the leg of a chair._] Go upstairs and stay there until I send
for you. [_Exit_ TOM.] This is most extraordinary! What can
have got into the child?
[_Enter_ MOTHER.
FATHER. Ah, here's Mary again.
MOTHER. Well, what did you say?
FATHER. I--a--I scolded him.
MOTHER. What did he say?
FATHER. He said--well--in fact, he didn't say anything.
MOTHER. Wouldn't, you mean. Did you punish him?
FATHER. Punish him? No, I didn't punish him. Come, now,
Mary, you don't mean to say you want me to punish him on Christmas
morning? I really couldn't do that.
MOTHER. Oh, no, I don't want you to punish him.
FATHER. Well, my dear, on the whole, I think perhaps _you'd_
better talk to him. I'll send him down.
[_Exit._
MOTHER. I didn't think Tom could do much with that boy when
he was contrary. [_Enter_ TOM.] Well, Tom, dear, don't you
want to come and sit with Mamma a little while?
TOM [_rather doubtfully_]. Ye-es.
MOTHER. Here is your little chair all ready. [TOM
_sits down with his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his hands._]
Sarah has told me something that makes me sorry. She said that you
were naughty last night? Is that so?
TOM [_reluctantly_]. Yes, I was cross.
MOTHER. She said you were cross again this morning.
TOM. Yes, I was naughty this morning, too.
MOTHER. Oh-h-h, Tommy! I'm so sorry to have my little boy so
naughty on Christmas Day. Don't you think that when people want to be
happy and glad, everyone ought to be good and pleasant, too?
TOM [_the words drawn out against his will_]. Yes, I think
so.
MOTHER. And then there is the beautiful story of that
wonderful first Christmas. Don't you think people were very happy on
that Day? And you know we always think of that on Christmas, now.
TOM. Oh, yes, I do too.
MOTHER [_reproachfully_]. Then, Tom, how _could_ you be so
naughty?
TOM. Well, Mamma, do you think it's so _dread_fully naughty
to be cross?
MOTHER. It is not so naughty as some things you might do,
but it is making other people unhappy, and don't you think that is
pretty bad?
TOM. Well, Mamma, if a fellow didn't _feel_ cross at all,
but had a very good reason for _being_ cross, would that be naughty?
MOTHER. I don't think there can be any good reason for being
cross.
TOM. I do.
MOTHER. What is it?
TOM. It's a secret. It's a _very_ good reason. I'm sorry
it's naughty. I didn't think it was. But _I'm not sorry I did it_.
MOTHER. Oh, Tommy, it makes me feel badly to hear you talk
so. I'll leave you here, and let you think it over. Perhaps you'll
feel pleasanter after awhile. You can call me when you do.
TOM [_leaving his little chair for a big one_]. I'm sorry
they all think I'm so bad, and I'm really very tired of being cross,
but I _must_ find out about Santa Claus, for if he's the kind of man
that would bring anybody ashes or whips on Christmas, I don't believe
I'll like him at all! [_Jingling of bells in chimney._] What's that?
[_Louder bells._] I do believe he's coming now! [_Jumps up._] Oh,
dear! where are the others? I wish they would come! I--I--I guess I'm
just a _little bit_ afraid! [_Gets behind his chair. Enter_ SANTA
CLAUS _through the fireplace._]
SANTA CLAUS. That's a fine wide chimney! [_Stoops to look up
it._] Why doesn't everybody keep a chimney like that for my special
use? [_Comes front._] I'm sure when I only come once a year, I ought
to have some attention paid to my wants!
TOM [_faintly_]. Santa Claus!
SANTA CLAUS. Hello! What's this? Where are you, anyway?
[_Looks about, then over chair, and sees_ TOM.] What! Hiding
from me? Come out at once, and tell me what's the matter with you.
TOM [_coming out_]. Santa Claus, have you got the whip and
ashes?
SANTA CLAUS. Whip and ashes! Bless me, what's the boy
talking about? Whip? I left my sleigh whip on the roof, if that's
what you mean, and I never carry _ashes_ around with me. What are you
driving at? Hey?
TOM. Sarah said you gave whips to bad boys, and I've been
very naughty--oh, dreadfully naughty!
SANTA CLAUS. Naughty? Dear, dear! I'm sorry to hear that!
And on Christmas, too! What a pity! When you knew I was coming? Dear,
dear, dear!
TOM. _Have_ you got the whip, then?
SANTA CLAUS. No, no! I never give anybody whips--excepting
toy ones, with a whistle in the end, like this---- [_gives_
TOM _one_] ----and Sarah was just teasing you. I'll have
to see Sarah about that. I won't have anybody telling stories about
me. But, dear, dear, it makes me unhappy to think you could be so
naughty. Why did you do it?
TOM [_looks around cautiously_]. Don't tell anybody, Santa
Claus, but I was naughty on purpose, just to see if you would give me
a whip.
SANTA CLAUS. Well, that's a joke! Don't you know enough to
see that you ought to have waited to ask me, instead of running such
a risk?
TOM [_remorsefully_]. Sure enough! I could have done that!
And now I've gone and made them all feel sorry, just for nothing.
[_Enter_ FATHER _and_ MOTHER.
FATHER. Well, well, here's Santa Claus! I haven't seen you
for a long time. How do you do, sir, how do you do? [_They shake
hands._]
MOTHER [_at door_]. Children! Children! Come here!
[_Enter children._
CHILDREN. Oh, Santa Claus! Santa Claus!
DAISY _and_ DOT. Merry Christmas, Santa Claus!
DAISY. We've got some presents for you, Santa Claus. Dot and
I thought nobody would remember to give you anything, so we wanted
to. [_Giving presents._]
SANTA CLAUS. Well, really, my dears, these are very nice.
Bless your little hearts, nobody has remembered me for some time,
and that's a fact! Mr. Wright, how have these children been behaving
themselves? Can I give them the nice things I have brought for them?
FATHER. Yes, sir! I'm happy to say, they have been very
good, very good, indeed. Oh---- [_aside_] ----now I'm forgetting that
rascal, Tom! [_To_ SANTA CLAUS.] That is--they've all been
good except one--and he--a--well----
MOTHER [_looking at_ TOM]. He is sorry now, I hope,
Santa Claus, and will try not to do so any more.
SANTA CLAUS. Oh! Ha-ha! you're talking about this fellow,
are you? [_Puts his hand on_ TOM'S _shoulder and draws him
forward._] Well, he's just been explaining to me that it was all a
mistake----
FATHER [_sternly_]. I hope he has not been trying to hide
his misdoings from you, Santa Claus.
SANTA CLAUS. Not at all, sir, not at all. He confessed like
a man. But there is this about it that you didn't know. Somebody told
him that I put whips in the stockings of naughty children. Well, he
naturally thought I was to be distrusted--shocking way to malign me,
wasn't it?--and of course he wanted to find out. So what did he do to
test me but _try_ to be naughty--acted it out to perfection, I've no
doubt. Pretty severe on his brothers and sisters and parents, wasn't
it? [SANTA CLAUS _and_ FATHER _laugh._]
MOTHER. Why, Tommy, it's a pity you didn't just come to me
and ask about it. It would have saved so much trouble. Why didn't you
do that?
TOM. I never once thought of that way, Mamma!
SANTA CLAUS. Well, my son, your thinking-cap is the only
cap you don't have to take off in the house, so remember to keep
it on, next time. Mr. Wright, I'm sure he feels sorry enough about
his mistake to justify me in giving him his full share of presents.
Come, children, look and see what I've got for you. I brought it last
night, to have it all ready, and I think it ought to hold enough for
all, don't you?
[_Curtains at side of stage fall, and disclose
the Tree._[9] _General distribution of presents
follows._
[Footnote 9: See note on Tree, p. 314, and on Tree-songs, p. 315.]
NOTES ON COSTUME AND SETTING
For this play, ordinary costume is all that is required. Adult parts
are taken by two girls and a boy, of fourteen or fifteen, and these,
of course, need something especial, but little girls can easily
borrow their equipment from mothers or sisters. Father Wright should
wear a mustache and, if desired, a beard.
For Santa Claus costume, see note, p. 313.
See note on fireplace, p. 313.
THEIR CHRISTMAS PARTY
IN TWO ACTS
CHARACTERS
FATHER BROWNE.
MOTHER BROWNE.
AUNT JENNIE.
DICK }
DOT } The little Brownes. (Eight and six years old.)
MARY, the nurse.
JOHN, the man.
JIM } A newsboy and his sister, both ragged. (About
POLLY } the age of Dick and Dot.)
THE FIVE LITTLE BLAIRS.
THE TWO LITTLE GRAYS.
SALLIE LEE.
COOK'S SISTER'S CHILDREN.
_And_ SANTA CLAUS.
[Illustration: THEIR CHRISTMAS PARTY]
THEIR CHRISTMAS PARTY
ACT I
TIME: _Afternoon of the 24th of December._
SCENE: _A street corner on a snowy day. Barrels and boxes in front
of a small grocery store. Enter_ DICK _and_ DOT, _well wrapped up,
dragging a sled._
DICK. Whew! that's a dandy coast, but it's pretty hard work
pulling up.
DOT. Let's sit down a minute and rest. [_They draw sled to
left of stage and sit down side by side on it._] I'm so tired. Oh,
Dick, I thought we were going to run over that poor gray cat, didn't
you?
DICK [_nodding_]. It's lucky for her that she knew how
to jump. The Comet would have hit her sure! This rope needs tying
tighter. [_Goes to front of sled and kneels down, fixing rope._]
DOT [_looking around_]. It's so nice and quiet here. No big
boys ever coast on this street. Big boys always bump into you.
DICK [_shaking his mitten at her_]. Now, Dot, that's just
the very reason I don't like it. You don't know how much more fun it
would be to have just lots and lots of boys on this track all the
time, climbing up and whizzing down. I bet none of them could beat
this old sled.
DOT [_doubtfully_]. Maybe it would be nice, but, Dick, I
think it's such fun to have just us two.
DICK. That's just because you're a girl and don't know.
Come along, let's try the hill again. Shall we go over the bump?
DOT. No, I'm afraid. Let's start down here.
[_Exeunt._
[_Enter from Left_, JIM _and_ POLLY.
JIM. If you're very cold, Sister, we can go home right off
now, but I've got four papers left, and I want awful bad to sell 'em,
every one, so's I can take the money to Granny.
POLLY. No, I'm not so dreadful cold, Jim. And, 'sides, maybe
Granny's not got home yet from work, and then you know we'd just have
to sit on the doorstep and wait.
JIM. We'll stay right here. Folks will be going home soon,
and lots of men pass this corner. Here's a nice box to sit on; I
don't believe the store man will mind. You sit on that side, so,
Polly, and I'll sit here, so, for the wind's blowing this way, and if
I sit here it will hit me first, and I can keep it off o' you. [_They
sit back to back on the box._]
POLLY. Oh, Jim, I'm afraid you'll be cold.
JIM. Oh, no, I won't. [_Two men cross stage arm in arm._]
Here's your Times, Star, Evening Post. Last edition. [_Men shake
their heads._] [_Looking after men._] Pshaw! Well, maybe the next
feller'll want one. [_To_ POLLY.] See, Polly, I can't be
cold, I just stuff my hands in my pockets---- [_His hand comes
through._] No, that's the wrong place. I just stuff my hands in my
pockets like this, and then I kick my heels like this. [_Kicks on box
with his heels._] That's very warming. And then I whistle. [_Whistles
lively tune._] If you just whistle you don't have time to think about
the wind, see!
POLLY [_drums with her heels and tries to whistle_]. But it
hurts to kick your heels, and I can't whistle.
JIM. I'll tell you what. Let's try singing. Perhaps that's
just as warming. Let's sing Granny's Christmas song. [_They sing a
verse of "God rest ye, merry gentlemen," or some other old-world
carol._]
POLLY. Jim, is to-morrow Christmas?
JIM [_gloomily_]. Yes, to-morrow's Christmas. [_Aside._] And
if somebody don't buy these papers pretty soon, I won't have enough
pennies to get [_counts on his fingers_] that penny paper doll; nor
the penny washtub, nor the jumping Jack, nor the paint box, 'cause
that's three cents. [_Enter man._] Here's your evenin' paper, sir!
[_Man stops and takes one. Exit._]
[_Enter_ DICK _and_ DOT, _cross stage, and sit
down as before._
DOT. Wasn't that a nice coast, Dick?
DICK [_absently_]. Yes. [_Rests his chin in his hands and
elbows on his knees._] Dot, I do wish we lived in an orphan asylum.
DOT [_jumps_]. Oh-h! Why, Dicky Browne, you wouldn't have
any papa nor mamma nor Aunt Jennie, nor anybody, nor anybody.
DICK. But just think what lots of brothers and sisters we'd
have.
DOT. Well, you're all the brothers I want; 'nd I wouldn't
give up Papa and Mamma for all the sisters in the world; so now.
DICK. Well, neither would I, but can't you see how much
nicer times we would have if there was a lot of us, on holidays
especially?
DOT. Well, I think we have an awfully good time, anyway. You
said you liked Thanksgiving.
DICK. That was because of the dinner part. When we tried to
play games and dance afterwards, what did we do? We played Hide the
Thimble, and if I hid it there was only you to look, and of course
you couldn't help finding it first. We had to play Going to Jerusalem
with just one chair, and the two of us went around and around and
around till we felt like the "Little Rid Hin" in John's story. I
declare there aren't enough of us to play Puss-in-the-corner. Two
children can't have any fun. [_Puts his head down on his arms._]
DOT [_sighs_]. That's so.
DICK [_lifts up his head suddenly_]. And I'd just like to
know what's the fun of coasting when you haven't anything to shout
"clear the track" at, but ash barrels, and hens and cats that you
can't run over anyway. I wish there were forty-'leven boys on the
track this minute.
DOT. Well, I don't care about the track, but brothers and
sisters are nice to play with. Wouldn't it be nice if there were two
of you and two of me?
DICK. Two of us! I wish there were six of each of us. I
wish I could go and live with the Ruggles's, in your story about the
"Birds' Christmas Carol." There were nine of them and they only got
washed about once a year. And folks weren't always saying, "Land!
where did you get them dirty hands?"
DOT. That would be fun! We could play just as untidy
games----
DICK. Don't talk about it, it makes me cross. [_Folds his
arms, crosses his feet, and whistles something sad._ DOT
_gets out her handkerchief and spreads it in her lap._]
JIM [_softly_]. I say, Polly, that boy's got an awful nice
sled.
POLLY. Just look at his sister's muff. [_Enter man._]
JIM [_shouts_]. Buy a paper, sir! [_Man takes paper._]
[DOT _turns and sees children, looks away, then
back again, turns to_ DICK.
DOT. Dicky, are you sure you are warm enough?
DICK. Warm enough! How could I be cold with a great big coat
like this one? I feel like a polar bear. [_Walks up and down to show
size of his coat, then sits down._ DOT _turns and sees the
children's ragged shoes._]
DOT. But are your feet warm?
DICK. Of course, with boots on.
DOT [_sees_ POLLY _examining holes in her
mittens_]. But aren't there any holes in your mittens?
DICK. In my spick-span new mittens that Aunt Jennie made me? [_Holds
them up._] Dot, you're crazy! [_Catches her looking at the children;
looks himself, and then walks around the sled to sit facing_ JIM
_and_ POLLY. DOT _does the same. All four stare in silence._] Hullo!
JIM. Hullo, yourself!
DICK. Are you the boy that my papa gets his papers of?
JIM. Don't know.
[DOT _walks decidedly over to_ POLLY.
DOT. Let me feel your hands. They're just like ice; I knew it. Put
them right in here with mine. [_Kneels in front of_ POLLY _and puts
her hands in muff._ DICK _moves sled close to_ JIM _and sits astride
of it._]
DICK. Have you sold all your papers?
JIM. No, I've got two left.
DICK. Isn't it lots of fun to sell papers and earn money?
JIM. I don't know,--not this kind of weather.
DICK. I think it would be fun. I wouldn't want to sell 'em
on Christmas. Do you have to work on Christmas day?
JIM. Not if I don't want to. I did go out last Christmas,
but nobody much came along. I suppose they stayed at home to keep
warm.
DOT. No, I guess Santa Claus was coming to see their little
children, and they wanted to see him too. [_To_ POLLY.] What
do you want Santa Claus to bring you?
POLLY. Santa Claus hasn't ever been to our house.
DOT. What, hasn't ever been to your house!
DICK. Haven't you ever seen him?
JIM. No, she never saw him, but I saw a stuffed Santa Claus
in a window once.
DICK. Why, he comes to our house every single year.
DOT. I thought he went to everybody's houses in this world.
JIM [_leaning toward_ DICK _and speaking low_]. I
get Polly presents when I get enough money.
DICK. But doesn't Santa Claus fill your stockings?
JIM. No, and he never goes to Nicky Smith's house, nor Eddy
Warren's, nor Jakey White's. They told me so. Here comes another man.
Post, sir? [_Man shakes his head._]
POLLY. Jim got me some candy last Christmas, and Granny gave
me a doll, only its head came off the next day.
JIM. That's an awful nice sled.
DICK. Haven't you got any sled?
JIM. No, but I coast on a board sometimes.
DICK. I'll let you try Comet. Don't you want to take Polly
down?
DOT. Oh, yes, go; we'll take care of the papers.
DICK. Let's change places; we'll sell papers and you
coast. And you must take our coats too. [_Pulls off his things_,
DOT _following his example._] Because the wind just whistles
right through you, I tell you, when you go down that hill.
DOT. Oh, yes.
JIM. We're much obliged for the sled, but we can't take your
things; you'll be cold.
DICK. No, we won't, and you must. [_Helps him on with his
own coat._] You see, you're cold now, and you won't have a good coast
if you're not warm. Give me your cap. Here, take my mittens. Dot,
take Polly's shawl.
DOT. Now, we'll sit right down here. Dick, you hold the
papers.
JIM. Are you all fixed?
DICK _and_ DOT. Oh, beautifully. Oh, thank you.
[JIM _and_ POLLY _go off._
DICK [_calling_]. Put Polly on behind.
DOT. Mind the bump at the curbstone.
DICK. Oh, Dot, isn't this fun?
DOT. Yes, lots. Have you got the papers?
DICK. Yes, there are only two left to sell.
DOT. Let me get close up behind you, the way Polly did. Now
you must drum with your heels, and whistle like Jim. [DICK
_does so._]
DICK. Here comes somebody. Now I'm going to call. Here's
your evening papers, last edition!
[_Enter two men, stop and buy a paper._
FIRST MAN [_looking back_]. That's a queer-looking newsboy.
Somehow he looks like a rich child.
SECOND MAN [_pulling him off_]. I can't see but the
little scamp is ragged enough. Some of these newsboys aren't so
poverty-stricken as they make out, anyway. Come along. [_Exeunt._]
DICK. I've seen that man somewhere.
DOT. I think he's been to see Papa. Wouldn't it be fun if
Papa came along and bought a paper of you?
DICK. And didn't know me. What a circus! Wish he would.
DOT. There come Jim and Polly. Wave your paper at them.
DICK [_waving_]. Hurrah, Jim, I sold a paper.
[_Enter_ JIM _and_ POLLY.
JIM. Good for you. It was fine!
POLLY. It was just grand!
DICK. Try it again. We like this, don't we, Dot?
DOT. Yes. Don't you want to go again, Polly?
JIM. Are you warm enough? honest Injun?
DOT. Yes, go on.
JIM. All right. [_Exeunt._]
DICK. I knew Jim would think Comet was a boss sled. Don't
you think Jim would be a nice brother, Dot?
DOT. Yes, if he washed his face. Polly would be nice for a
sister, too.
DICK. We could all write letters to Santa Claus together.
[_Drums with heels and whistles._]
Dot [_after a pause, rubbing her nose_]. Well, if Santa Claus's nose
ever feels like mine, it's no wonder it's red.
DICK [_squirming_]. Somehow, it's colder than I thought it
was. The thermometer must be down to zero.
DOT. I'm sure it's nineteen below. I--I think a fire would
feel real nice.
DICK. I'll take you home when they come up again. I'm not
very cold. I wonder if Jim ever flops his arms like a street car
driver. Maybe that would make him warm. Try it, Dot. [_Both beat
themselves with their arms._]
DOT. I don't believe anything would make me warm.
DICK [_turning anxiously_]. Dot, do you want my handkerchief?
DOT. Oh, no, I'm not going to cry.
DICK. Well, I'm glad, for it's in my pocket that Jim's got
on.
[_Enter man._
MAN. Got a Times, boy?
DICK. Yes, sir, last one. [_Exit man. Enter_ JIM
_and_ POLLY.] Sold the last paper, Jim. Here's the money.
We've got to go home now. [_Changing coats._] Jim, I think it's very
queer about Santa Claus. Is your house hard to find?
JIM. No, it's just right down this street, there on
Friendship Alley. We're awfully much obliged for the ride. The
Comet's a beauty.
POLLY. I never was on a sled before.
DOT. Weren't you? We'll let you have ours again, sometime.
DICK _and_ DOT. Good-night. [_Exeunt._]
JIM. That's an awfully nice little chap, Polly.
POLLY. Why, Jim, he's 'most as big as you are.
JIM. Oh, well, he's little somehow. I take care of you and
that makes me big. Let's go home to Granny. [_Takes her hand. Exeunt,
singing another verse of their carol._]
CURTAIN
ACT II
TIME: _Christmas morning._
SCENE: _Sitting-room, with large old-fashioned fireplace[10] [back
Center]. Toys scattered about. A small blackboard to left of
fireplace._ DICK _and_ DOT _sitting in little chairs._ DICK, _with a
knife, whittling._ DOT, _with a doll. Both wear sprigs of holly._
[Footnote 10: See note on Fireplace, p. 313.]
DOT. Everybody has given us such lovely presents. It
couldn't be nicer, could it, Dick?
DICK [_sighing_]. I think it could be just a little nicer.
It would be nicer if we had a lot of brothers and sisters to help us
play with the soldiers and the blocks and the dolls and everything.
Oh, I wish--I wish that just for this one day I could have a whole
_roomful_ of children to play with.
DOT. I'm afraid Jim and Polly aren't having as nice a
Christmas as ours.
DICK [_shutting his knife_]. So am I. I don't think
Friendship Alley's a very nice place to have to live.
DOT. I wish they could have a Christmas like ours. I'd like
to give them some things. Anyway, I'd like to show them our presents.
DICK [_jumping up_]. Let's!
DOT. When?
DICK. Now, right off. And, Dot, don't you know they said
they had never seen Santa Claus, either. It's 'most time for him to
come. Let's go and bring them over to see him.
DOT. All right. He'll give them something, too.
DICK. We'll hide them so as to surprise everybody.
DOT. Will Papa and Mamma like it?
DICK. Of course they will. Papa always likes our surprises,
and Mamma will, I know, because it would make her feel so sorry
if she knew there was anybody in the world that wasn't happy on
Christmas. She says that's the happiest day in the year, and
everybody ought to be happy. So we won't make her sorry by telling
her about it. We'll just make them happy too.
DOT. We can have them take off their things in the nursery,
and then Jim can wash his face.
[_Exeunt. Enter_ FATHER, _with paper which
he throws on table._
FATHER. Well, the children seem to have grown tired of their
new things already. I don't see what has come over that boy lately.
He talks of nothing but big families. I suppose the sight of the
five little Blair children across the way is tantalizing, and it
certainly is lonely for the two little duds with nobody but grown-ups
in the house. Their efforts to be a large party in themselves, to
play games, on Thanksgiving day, were really laughable, but they
were pathetic, too. If Julia had thought of it, we might have had
a little Christmas party for them. It's a good deal of trouble for
Santa Claus to climb down a chimney for just two children. [_Looks
at his watch._] The old gentleman ought to be here in about half an
hour. I wonder if it's too late to get some children now? Mr. Blair
might lend me his youngsters for an hour or so. It would be such a
nice surprise for the children. I could hide them somewhere, and at
a given signal have them come out. I'll just step across the way and
see.
[_Exit_ FATHER. _Enter_ AUNT JENNIE.
AUNT. What a dreadful state the children have left this
room in. That blessed boy! I knew he couldn't wait to try his new
knife. His father would insist on giving it to him, though I'm sure
it's dangerous. Here are his chips all over the floor, and Dot has
had Dolly dressed and undressed a dozen times at least. [_Sits down
by fire, laughing indulgently._] The way those children have been
talking the last few days is a puzzle! I can't think what started
them. I never had but one brother myself, and I'm sure I was quite
happy. What they want with ten brothers and sisters is beyond me.
A dozen children in the house would be more than their father and
Julia and I could stand, to say nothing of nurse and John. The two
alone can think of quite enough mischief to drive the household
crazy. I suppose our having so many friends when we were children
made a difference. We never used to be alone at Christmas. After all,
on holidays it would be forlorn. Too bad we didn't think of having
a party. There are so many children who would think it a treat to
come, too, who have no tree or Santa Claus at home. That little girl
of Ellen Lee's must be all alone to-day. [_Gets up decidedly._] I
declare I'll just put on my hat and coat and go around there now and
get her. It'll be such a nice surprise for the children.
[_Exit in haste. Enter_ MOTHER. _Takes up
doll, and sits down thoughtfully before the
fire, rearranging doll's dress._
MOTHER. Dolly, you'd be surprised if you knew how badly
I'm feeling! I think I've been a very stupid, unrealizing sort of
a mother, not to plan something to make the children have a really
_merry_ Christmas, as well as a happy one. It would have been so
easy to have a little party of children here. Oh, Dolly, you know
all about it better than I do myself, for didn't I just hear Dot
confiding in you, and whispering in this little ear under your curls
how she wished you were a real live sister to play with her? Now you
see how I feel! Don't you see that if she had a hundred dolls, of wax
or china or rags, she would still have a stupid Christmas? I haven't
a doubt that you mean well, and you do fill a very large corner in
a little girl's heart--I haven't got over my fondness for your race
yet. [_Kisses the doll's curls._] But you certainly are a trifle
obstinate about responding to friendly advances. Poor children, it's
so easy to give you pleasure! [_Lets doll fall in her lap._] I might
have had a nice, jolly, little ... well, it's too late now. [_Sighs,
then looks at her watch._] No! I don't believe it is, after all. I
still have time to go for little Jerry Gray and his sister. They are
just the ones! The children love surprises so. I'll hurry----
[_Exit in haste. Enter_ MARY _and_ JOHN.
_While they talk together they put the room
to rights._
MARY. Well, it do beat all, how thim children can make a
room look like so many pigs and chickens had been running through.
JOHN. Thrue for you, an' it does.
MARY. An' what fer need they be wishin' there was tin of
thim to mess the house up worse?
JOHN. An' did they do that, thin?
MARY. Sure they did. "Mary," says Dicky to me, "don't you
wish that I was five little b'ys and Dot was five little girls? We
do, we're so lonesome."
JOHN. An' that's what I heard them sayin' as I was
a-carryin' up coal this morning. "I wish I had a whole room full of
brothers and sisters," says Dick. Faix! I wish I could give him some
of mine, then. I've enough to spare.
MARY. 'Tis sort of lonesome like, now, ain't it, John?
[_Hands on hips._]
JOHN [_hands on hips_]. Yes, it is that. I wonder---- Say,
Mary, me darlin', them three children of cook's sister's ain't going
to have much Christmas. Why can't you and me smuggle them up here
to the cupboard on the stairs, and when we comes up to help wid th'
tree, we'll just give the word and they'll pop out and say, Merry
Christmas. It'll be sort o' cheerful like, and Mistress is that
kind-hearted she ain't going to care.
MARY. John, you have the brains of a elephant. I'll go right
down and fetch 'em now. [_Exit._]
JOHN. Poor children! They shall have some fun, that they
shall.
[_Re-enter_ MARY _with children._
MARY. Well, would you look at 'em, John? Cook she dressed
'em all up in green ribbons, bless their hearts. Says I, "Sure
to-day's not St. Patrick's day." "Well," says she, "what's fittin'
one holiday is fittin' the next. It's a good color anyhow. Them's
their best clothes." So I never touched 'em. I've told 'em about it,
John. Now, just go right up in here, children.
JOHN. And when we say "Broomsticks!" out you bounces and
shouts, "Merry Christmas!" Now, Mary, we've redd up, we'll just go
below stairs. [_Exeunt._]
[_Enter_ DICK _and_ DOT _with_ JIM _and_ POLLY.
DOT. We're so glad you came, because we want to show you our
things.
DICK. And now you can see Santa Claus.
JIM _and_ POLLY. Oh-h-hh! We never saw nothin' like
this before.
DICK. And I'm going to put my new necktie on you, because we
want to be all dressed up for Santa Claus.
DOT _and_ DICK. We've got on holly because it's
Christmas.
POLLY. I've got on my clean apron. Will I do?
DOT. 'Course you will; I don't believe Santa Claus cares.
DICK. Here are my soldiers.
DOT. And this is my dolly.
DICK. And just look at my knife.
DOT. Where's my pincushion?
DICK. Oh, see our blackboard. Don't you want to draw on it,
Jim?
JIM. I don't know how to draw.
DICK. Oh, make a man; it's very easy to make a man.
[_Demonstrating._] You just make his stomach and his head, and then
put on the arms and legs.
DOT. See our books.
DICK. This is my new history. It's got a picture of Mr.
Columbus finding the red Indians.
DOT. Oh, I hear somebody coming. You must hide straight off.
DICK. In the chimney is the best place. Jim, you go on this
side and Polly on that. And look out for the fire. Remember when we
say "Sleds!" you must come out.
DOT. Now.
[FATHER _puts his head in at the door._
FATHER. Oh, children, are you there? Don't you think you'd
better go and have your hands and faces washed? Santa Claus likes
clean faces, you know.
DICK _and_ DOT. Yes, sir, right off. [_Exeunt._]
[_Enter_ FATHER _with five little Blairs._
FATHER. Now, children, quick, run right into the library
here, and when I say "Holly!" you must run out and say, "Merry
Christmas!"
[_Exit_ FATHER. _Enter_ AUNT _with_ SALLY
LEE.
AUNT. Sally, the best place for you to hide is here on the
floor behind the blackboard. There, no one can see you. Now, when I
say "Evergreen!" you must come out as we planned.
[_Exit_ AUNT. _Enter_ MOTHER _with two little
Grays._
MOTHER. Come right here, dears, behind this curtain. You
won't have to wait long. And when I say "Mistletoe!" run out. I'll go
and find Dick and Dot.
[_Exit._
[_Enter_ DICK _and_ DOT _and place two low
chairs by the fireplace. Both put their
heads into the chimney._
DICK _and_ DOT. Are you all right?
JIM. Yes, if we don't have to stay too long.
POLLY. It's very nice and warm here.
[_Enter_ FATHER, MOTHER, AUNT, _and_ MARY
_and_ JOHN, _who stand by the door._
FATHER. Children, what are you doing? [_Children come out
confused._]
MOTHER. Were you looking for Santa Claus?
AUNT. Couldn't you wait for him?
DICK. It's a whole year since we've seen him.
FATHER. I wonder if he's changed any.
DOT. Oh, I hope not.
FATHER. We all love Santa Claus, don't we? He makes us think
of so many pleasant things. He always reminds me of----
FATHER. Holly! }
}
MOTHER. Mistletoe! }
}
AUNT. Evergreen! }
} All children [_rushing out_]:
DICK } Sleds! } "Merry Christmas, Merry
DOT } } Christmas, Merry Christmas!"
}
JOHN } Broomsticks! }
MARY } }
DICK _and_ DOT. Hurrah, hurrah! We're going to have
a Christmas party, after all!
FATHER. I never was so surprised in all my life.
MOTHER. Nor the rest of us, either.
CHILDREN. Goody, goody! Santa Claus is coming!
FATHER. Three cheers for Santa Claus. All together!
ALL. Rah! Rah! Rah!
MOTHER. Santa Claus likes to have children quiet sometimes.
It's almost time for him to come now. I know he loves music. Suppose
we all sit down right where we are and sing. What shall we sing?
DOT. Let's sing----
[_All sing a Christmas carol._
FATHER. Listen, do you hear anything? [_Silence._]
CHILDREN. No, no!
FATHER. Well, let's sing something about Santa Claus, and
see if that will bring him. [_They sing a Santa Claus song._]
[_Enter_ SANTA CLAUS _through fireplace. Children
all jump up and gather around him._
SANTA CLAUS. Whew! What a large party! Do you think my pack
will hold out for so many?
CHILDREN [_dancing excitedly_]. Yes! Yes!
DICK. Santa Claus, before you begin, I want to ask you a
question. Here are Jim and Polly, and they have always wanted to see
you, but you never went to their house, nor gave them any presents,
and they say they know some more poor people that you never go to
see. We thought you went everywhere and gave everybody presents! Why
didn't you ever give anything to Jim and Polly? We don't think that's
quite fair, Santa Claus!
SANTA CLAUS. I know, and I think I can explain to you.
[_Recites._]
'Tis true, my child, I can't but say
I have a very curious way
Of bringing presents to girls and boys
Who have least need of pretty toys,
And giving books, and dolls, and rings,
To those who already have such things.
'Tis done for a very curious reason,
Suggested by the Christmas season.
Should I make my gifts to those who need,
'Twould become a time of general greed,
When all would think, "What shall we get?"
"What shall we give?" they would quite forget.
So when I send my gifts to-day,
'Tis a hint "You have plenty to give away."
And then I leave some poor ones out,
That the richer may find, as they look about,
Their opportunities close at hand,
In every corner of the land.
My token to those who in plenty live
Is a gentle reminder, meaning,
GIVE.[11]
[Footnote 11: Quoted from _St. Nicholas_, by courtesy of Tudor Jenks
and The Century Company.]
CHILDREN. Oh, yes, we see, and we'll try to remember.
SANTA CLAUS. That's right. Now, can't we have another song?
I like to hear you singing. Let's have....
[_Carol, and distribution of presents._[12]
[Footnote 12: See note on Tree, p. 314, and on Carols, p. 315.]
NOTES ON COSTUME AND SCENERY
Ordinary costumes. Santa Claus (see note on costume, p. 313) should
be taken by a man, but the other adult parts are for boys and
girls from fourteen to eighteen. Two or three older boys enact the
homeward-bound pedestrians who merely cross the stage in Act I, and
Father Browne and John, in coats and hats, may be among these.
The groups of children who come in at the end range from the very
smallest up to ten years.
If scenery is available, place grocery store in first scene, at the
back, and keep the children well in the center. In changing the
scene, time can be gained by setting the first scene in front of the
interior, as very little space is needed for the first act.
If scenery is not to be used, set grocery store less conspicuously
[_Right_], using screens and placing boxes and barrels before them.
THE CHRISTMAS BROWNIE
IN ONE ACT
CHARACTERS
FATHER BIRD.
MOTHER BIRD.
KITTY } { About twelve years old.
TED } { Boy of ten.
MARJORIE } The little Birds { Eight years old.
ROBIN } { Boy of seven.
LITTLE ROSE } { Little girl of six.
NURSE MAGGIE.
THE CHRISTMAS BROWNIE. (Boy of ten.)
_And_ SANTA CLAUS.
CHARACTERS IN TED'S DREAM
(Series of tableaux at back of stage)
I. Jack Horner.
II. Mrs. Santa Claus.
III. When Santa was Young.
IV. "Merry Christmas." (Little boy.)
V. "No Christmas." (Little boy and girl.)
VI. The Christmas Waits. (Four boys and four girls
from six to twelve years, who can sing.)
The other children in the "Dream" should not be over eight years
old.
[Illustration: THE BROWNIE]
THE CHRISTMAS BROWNIE
TIME: _Christmas Eve. The story begins at tea-time in the
nursery, and ends on Christmas morning, the night being bridged over
by_ TED'S _dream._
SCENE: _Nursery, with fireplace,[13] across corner [Right], nursery
pictures on the walls, and toys scattered about. The children seated
on little chairs around a low table [L.], having just finished their
tea_--TED _at one end_, KITTY _opposite him_, MARJORIE _and_ ROSE
_on one side [facing the audience], and_ ROBIN _with his chair half
turned away from the table. Curtain rises, showing the children
singing a Christmas song, while the nurse goes in and out with a
tray, clearing the table. The little girls sit with hands folded_,
KITTY _sometimes helping the nurse, and the boys lounge comfortably
in their chairs. When the song is ended_, TED _leans his elbows on
the table._
[Footnote 13: See note on Fireplace, p. 313.]
Any Christmas song will do. "Oh, Ring, Glad Bells" (from _Songs and
Games for Little Ones_[14]) is a very good one.
[Footnote 14: See note on Carols, p. 315.]
KITTY. Oh, I do wish Papa and Mamma would get done their
supper and come up here!
MARJORIE. Seems to me it takes twice as long to eat supper
in the dining-room as it does up here in the nursery!
TED. Grown folks are so slow about it!
ROBIN. Guess they have more to eat, too.
NURSE. No, indeed, Master Robin, it's because they're polite
and don't eat so fast!
MARJORIE. We do gobble just like Thanksgiving turkeys!
KITTY. Rosy-posy never does. [_Patting little_
ROSE.]
TED. Pooh! Rosebud doesn't eat more'n a bite, anyway!
ROSE. Maggie, please untie my bib.
TED. I'll do it for you. [_Jumps up and unties it. The
others take theirs off, and the nurse carries them all away._]
KITTY. Oh, I'm so excited! I don't believe I can sleep a
wink.
MARJORIE. Don't you wish to-morrow would come quick?
BOYS. You bet!
MARJORIE. Santa Claus!
KITTY. Christmas Tree!
ROBIN. Sleds!
TED. Candy!
ROBIN. Big drums!
BOYS [_drumming with fists on table_]. B-r-r-rum! B-r-rum!
Brum! Brum! Brum!
KITTY [_covering her ears_]. Mercy! what a racket! Do be
quiet, boys!
ROSE [_shaking her finger_]. Santa Claus'll hear you 'way up
at the North Pole!
TED. I hope he's started on his travels before this, or he
won't get here for a week.
ROBIN. Wouldn't you like to ride with him in his old sleigh,
though?
TED. And help him fill the stockings!
MARJORIE. I don't think I'd like going down chimneys much.
KITTY. What a good chimney-sweep Santa Claus must make.
ROBIN [_going to look up chimney_]. Oh, isn't it 'most time
to hang up the stockings? [_Comes to stand beside_ MARJORIE.]
KITTY. Maggie has gone to get them, I think.
ROSE. But, Sister, how will Santa Claus know which is which?
KITTY. He'll know yours the minute he sees it, Pet.
ROSE. Will he?
TED. Sure!
ROBIN. Oh, I say, Ted, wouldn't it be a joke if he got 'em
all mixed up, and put my things in Marjorie's stocking, and yours in
Kitty's!
KITTY. He won't. He's such a wise old fellow that he always
knows, somehow.
MARJORIE. Well, I should think it would be lots easier if we
marked them! It must be dreadfully hard for him to remember.
TED. I'll tell you what! S'posing we write a list of the
things we want him to bring, too?
ROBIN. Good for you, Ted. Then he won't have to remember all
the letters we've been writing him.
MARJORIE. Give us some paper, quick, Kitty!
KITTY [_gets paper and pencils from mantel_, TED
_helping her_]. If Santa Claus has to remember all the letters all
the children in the world write him every year, shouldn't you think
his head must ache? [_Divides paper among children. All sit at table
and write._]
TED. Put your name at the top.
MARJORIE. And the thing you want most, next.
ROSE [_to_ KITTY]. Will Santa Claus mind if I print
mine?
KITTY. No, indeed. He likes printing.
[_All write busily for a few moments._
ROBIN. I'm done. Look at that! [_Holds it up._]
KITTY. My! what a long list!
ROSE. Oh-h-h! Santa Claus'll think you're greedy!
ROBIN. I don't expect him to give me all those things.
That's just so he can choose.
KITTY. Here come Papa and Mamma. Now, Ted, go get the
stockings.
[_Exit_ TED. _Enter_ FATHER _and_ MOTHER,
_children crowding around them._
KITTY. Mamma, we've made lists----
ROBIN. Of the things we want----
KITTY. And we're going to pin them on our stockings----
MARJORIE. Because we thought we ought to save poor Santa
Claus all the trouble we could.
MOTHER. What thoughtful children! I'm sure Santa Claus will
appreciate it.
ROBIN. Now, sit down and write your lists, quick!
FATHER [_laughing_]. Santa Claus will be frightened by such an array
of wants. [FATHER _and_ MOTHER _sit down and write._]
FATHER. Do you think his pack will hold out?
ROBIN [_with scorn_]. 'Course it will! That pack hasn't any
bottom at all.
MARJORIE _and_ ROSE [_taking hands and dancing_].
Oh, goody! goody! goody!
[_Enter_ TED, _with_ MAGGIE, _who gives stockings
to the children and helps them to pin
on the lists._
FATHER. I don't see my sock anywhere. This surely isn't
mine! [_Holds up a long stocking._]
MARJORIE. Oh, Papa, it would be too mean to hang up one of
your horrid little ones!
ROBIN. No, sir!
TED. Socks are no good on Christmas Eve. We've got one of
Mamma's for you.
FATHER [_laughing_]. Oh, I see. Very well. But it's lucky
they're to be marked. Santa Claus would never in the world recognize
this one.
MOTHER [_to_ ROBIN, _who is stretching his stocking
as much as possible_]. Robin, what are you doing?
ROBIN. Just making it bigger. Now, come along. Papa's on the
first hook. [_All go to fireplace and hang stockings_, NURSE
_helping_ ROSE. _All stand back to gaze._]
KITTY. Don't they make a fine show?
BOYS. Hurrah! Hurrah! [_Children all clap._]
MOTHER. Softly, children! [_To_ NURSE.] Maggie,
they will never go to sleep if they are so excited! [_To children._]
Sit down here a little while and sing some of your Christmas songs
before you go to bed.
KITTY. Oh, no, Mamma, let Rosebud sing her song for us, and
we'll be quiet.
MOTHER. Very well, dear.
TED. Let her stand on the table, so everybody can hear.
Come, Rosy! [TED _and_ KITTY _help her up._
FATHER _stands by fire_, MARJORIE _with her arm
about_ MOTHER, NURSE _in door_, KITTY
_sits on a corner of the table_, ROBIN _in a chair_,
TED _leaning over the back of it._ ROSE _sings,
"In another land and time." (From "Songs for Little Children.")[15]
When the song is ended_, MOTHER _comes forward, kisses_
ROSE, _and lifts her down._]
[Footnote 15: See p. 315.]
MOTHER. Now, Maggie, take her to bed. [NURSE _leads
her out._]
FATHER. Yes, it's high time you all went. Good-night, all of
you!
CHILDREN. Good-night, Papa! Good-night, Mamma!
ROBIN [_runs to fireplace, and bends over, shouting_].
Good-night, Santa Claus!
FATHER. Now, scamper, every one of you! [_Chases them
out_, MOTHER _follows. Stage darkened somewhat. Enter the_
BROWNIE _suddenly, through fireplace. Stands (Center) for a
moment, finger on lips, then rushes to door, peeps out, comes back,
looks under table, and then, as if satisfied, goes to stockings, and
stands examining them, feet wide apart, and hands on hips. Comes to_
FATHER'S, _measures it with his hands, then lifts it by the
toe, and points to it, grinning. Doubles up with laughter. Suddenly
puts his hand to his ear, and bends over, listening. Rushes to door,
runs back, and vanishes in chimney. Enter_ TED.]
TED [_softly_]. I just can't go to bed yet. Robin went to
sleep the very minute he got into bed. Don't see how he could. Maggie
thinks I'm all nicely tucked in, and she's gone downstairs. [_Goes
to fireplace and looks up chimney._] I do wish I could catch Santa
Claus. No signs of him yet, and I don't hear the sleigh-bells. I
think I'll just sit down and wait. [_Crosses to his own chair, and
sits facing audience, with one elbow on table._] I believe I could
give Santa Claus a few pointers, anyway. [BROWNIE _puts his
head out of fireplace, and then shows himself entirely, gradually
creeping nearer and nearer_ TED, _as if irresistibly drawn
by his remarks._] He does give people pretty much what they ask for,
but [_slowly_] if he just stopped a minute to think about it, he'd
find out what silly things they do think they want, sometimes. But
[_sighs_] he's getting so old that he doesn't find it out at all.
[BROWNIE, _behind him, raises his hands in horror, then
shakes his fist at_ TED.] I really think it would be a good
thing for Santa Claus to choose one person in each family to help him
out,--with the planning, anyway, if he doesn't like to have anyone
else fill the stockings. S'posing he chose me! I could help him a
lot! [BROWNIE _springs excitedly on the table, and bends
over_ TED, _shaking his fist in his face._]
TED [_jumps up, and stands off a little way_]. Wow!
Wha--wha---- Who are you?
BROWNIE [_folds his arms and looks contemptuously down on_
TED]. _Who_ is this impertinent snip of a boy who dares to
insinuate that my master, Santa Claus, is too old and decrepit to do
his work any longer?
TED. Indeed, indeed, I didn't say that!
BROWNIE [_wrathfully_]. What did you say, then? It sounded
very much like it. [_Shakes his head fiercely._]
TED. I--I--I just said--that I think he makes mistakes
sometimes.
BROWNIE [_sitting down cross-legged on the table_]. Very
well, we'll just have this matter settled at once. Sit down, now,
and let me hear what you have to say. [TED _backs away from
his chair._] No, that won't do. Sit down, I tell you. [TED
_reluctantly obeys, pulling his chair to a safe distance, and
sitting astride of it._] Now then, young sir, will you tell me what
complaints you have to register against your last year's stocking?
Wasn't everything in it that you asked for?
TED [_anxious to appease_]. Oh, yes! and more, too!
BROWNIE. And wasn't everything in it in perfect order? Was
anything broken?
TED [_emphatically_]. No! Everything was just out of sight!
BROWNIE. And weren't all the cracks stuffed tight with candy
and nuts and raisins?
TED. I should say they were!
BROWNIE. Then I'd like to know the meaning of this discontent! You
twentieth-century boys are a set of ungrateful young scamps, who
get the best of everything, and then complain of it, and break it
up in three days' time. Santa Claus is spoiling you, _I_ say! Boys
a hundred years ago were thankful for the slates and schoolbooks we
gave them, and the girls were happy enough over corncob dolls. Now
you must have steam-engines, and motors, and automobiles, and dolls
that walk and talk, and are so full of cogs and wheels that no real
flesh-and-blood little girl could love them at all. I tell you, in
all my thousand years of existence, I have never met anything so
grasping as the modern children! [_Talks so loud and gesticulates so
wildly that_ TED _backs away again._]
TED [_meekly_]. Please, Mr.--Mr. Brownie, I didn't mean
that! Honest Injun, I didn't!
BROWNIE. Well, then, explain yourself!
TED. I--I--I was just thinking that people ask Santa Claus
for such f-foolish things that it's a wonder he gives them anything
at all.
BROWNIE. Foolish! I should think they were!
TED. And if there was anybody that could tell Santa Claus
about it, it would save him a lot of trouble.
BROWNIE. And you think you could manage things better, do
you?
TED. I didn't say that,--I said I would like to help.
BROWNIE [_scratches his nose, scowling very hard_]. See
here. Suppose I let you try. Santa Claus is unusually busy to-night,
and is sending a great number of his Brownies out to fill stockings.
I was to look out for this house, among several hundred others, and
I--a--well, I have a fancy that I should enjoy letting you help.
TED. Oh, _will_ you, really?
BROWNIE [_jumping off table_]. Yes, I have about made up my
mind to let you into the secrets of the business. You can learn a few
things, I think.
TED. Good for you! Thank you, ever so much.
BROWNIE. Never mind. Wait till to-morrow before you thank
me. [_Grins meaningly._] Now, let's be quick about this--the time is
getting short. We'll just go over these lists together, and you can
tell me what improvements to make. [_They go to the first stocking._]
TED. Shall I get you a paper to write things down, so you
won't forget?
BROWNIE [_shouts angrily_]. Forget!
TED. Yes, I thought maybe since you're so old----
BROWNIE. That shows all you know about it! Of course there's
some excuse for _your_ forgetting, since your memory is only ten
years long, but _mine's_ a thousand years long, and I never forget
anything! Come, read me this list.
TED [_reading_]. "Encyclopedia Britannica." Now Papa can't
possibly want that, because he knows all about everything already.
And besides, I heard Mamma say she hadn't a bit of room for any
more books. "New knife." He did say his old one was dull, but it's
altogether too sharp for Robin and me to use, and that's sharp enough
for anybody! "New pocketbook." Why, he said the other day he hadn't
any money to put into it, so I don't see what good that'll do him.
"Key ring." If he has that, he'll put _all_ the keys on it, and there
won't be any for Robin and me to drop lead through. [_Turns to the_
BROWNIE.] So, you see, there isn't a thing that he really
wants on that list.
BROWNIE. Oh, certainly not!
TED. Now, Mamma's. "Half a dozen new bibs." Bibs! They don't
belong on her list. She can't have that! "Little rocking-chair." Now,
if she has a _little_ rocking-chair, there won't be any room for us
on the arms of it,--that wouldn't do at all. "A rose vase." All her
vases are broken now, and if she had another, Maggie'd just smash it,
too, so what's the use in giving it to her? [_Turns to list._] What's
all this at the bottom? "Most of all, five _good_ boys and girls to
live with till next Christmas"! Jiminy Christopher, how _can_ she
want five more?
BROWNIE [_significantly_]. She didn't say "_more_."
TED [_claps his hand over his mouth_]. Oh!... P'r'aps she
didn't mean that! P'r'aps she meant _us_! [_Stares thoughtfully
before him._]
BROWNIE. Hurry up! Look at this one.
TED. That's Kitty's. Let's see. "A boy doll and a girl
doll." Now, don't you think Kitty's altogether too big for dolls? I
suppose _little_ girls must have dolls, but they're terribly silly
things. "Half a Dozen Girls." That's nothing but an old girl's book.
Give her stories about fights and Indians and bears to read to us.
"Paper dolls." There it is again. "Napkin ring." Now, that's the
only sensible thing she's got down.... This one's mine. I won't stop
to read that, because I only put down the things I've _got_ to have.
Let's see if I can read Robin's. [_Puzzles over it._]
BROWNIE [_reading_ TED'S _list_]. "Boxing-gloves.
Baseball. Roller-coaster. Skates. Boots. Marbles."
TED. Oh, now I see what it is. "Rubber boots." He doesn't need
those. I'm going to have some new ones, and my others aren't much
too big for him. "Marbles." He's got more marbles now 'n' any boy
I know. "Top. Kite"--this isn't the time of year for those things.
Never mind, I'll tell you what he wants in a minute. Now, Margie.
"Dolls" again. She's got three dozen if she's got one! "Music-box."
Pshaw! they just go and smash right away. "Paints." She'd paint up
all the chairs and tables in the house and nobody would like it a
bit. "Little stove"--that might be nice,--but I'm afraid she'd burn
herself. You see, _she_ hasn't got anything good on her list, either.
Now, Rose comes last of all. [_Looks at_ ROSE'S _list a moment._]
Well, I guess Rosebud ought to have everything she's asked for.
[_Turns to_ BROWNIE, _and the two walk away from the fire._] Now,
didn't I tell you how it was? People want such silly things! Now,
I'll tell you what to bring instead. [_Puts his arm across_ BROWNIE'S
_shoulder, and whispers in his ear, pointing to one stocking after
another._] ... Now, I guess that's all. It was awfully good of you to
let me help, and I know they'll all be pleased. [_Walks around table,
sits with his back to audience. Stretches his arms above his head,
and yawns aloud._] I really believe I could go to sleep now. [_Drops
his head on his hands._ BROWNIE _waves his wand above_ TED, _who
gradually sinks down, head on arms, fast asleep._]
BROWNIE. Now I guess he's in for a good night's sleep.
Little scamp! He ought to have some kind of a trick played on him,
but Santa Claus forbids any pranks on Christmas Eve. [_Crosses to
fireplace._] What _shall_ I do about these stockings, anyway? These
poor children are going to be dreadfully disappointed to-morrow
if I keep my promise to that scallywag, Ted. Perhaps I'd better
telephone Santa Claus about it. [_Takes up the toe of a stocking
and speaks through it, moving it from mouth to ear as he speaks or
listens._] Hello! Hello, there! North Pole! Please connect me with
Santa Claus.... Hello, is that you, Santa? I want to consult you
about some doubtful business.... Yes, sir, Mr. Bird's house.... His
boy is making a dreadful mess with these stockings.... He wants them
all filled with presents for himself.... What's that you say? Let
him try it?... Be a good lesson for him?... All right, sir! Thank
you. Any trouble with icebergs? No?... That's good.... All right,
good-by! [_Drops stocking._] Well, I must see it through, then, I
suppose. [_Takes down the stockings and carries them into the chimney
two at a time. When the last is carried out, he brings them back in
the same order, filled. To avoid delay, a double set is prepared,
the_ BROWNIE _leaving the empty ones and bringing the full
ones instead._] Well, he's pretty generous to himself, anyway. And he
thinks it's all for their good! [_Walks over and stands looking at_
TED.] I'll just say good-night to you, now, young man....
No! before I go, I believe I'll give you a few Christmas dreams.
[_Waves his wand and walks slowly to back of stage. Scene darkened,
lights thrown on secondary stage, where the curtains part and
reveal tableaux as the_ BROWNIE'S _song calls for them.[16]
He stands at back, unseen. Raise curtain before the end of verse
describing picture._]
[Footnote 16: See note, p. 119.]
BROWNIE'S SONG
Air: "Fly, Little Birds."[17]
[Footnote 17: "Songs and Games for Little Ones" (p. 89). See
Suggestions for Carols, p. 315.]
Come, Christmas dreams, from Fairyland!
Come, at the beckoning of my wand.
'Tis Christmas Eve, so bring with you
Bright holly-berries and mistletoe, too.
I. Now first we have, all full of glee,
A youth well known to you and me.
His fondest hopes have now become
Reality--he's found a plum!
Tableau: Jack Horner.
II. Dear Santa Claus we've always known,
But Mrs. Santa, full of fun,
Helps her good husband every year,
Or else he'd never get done, I fear.
Tableau: Mrs. Santa Claus.
III. When Santa Claus was young and gay,
And full of fun, like boys to-day,
He learned that youth's the key to joy,
And so, you see, he's still a boy.
Tableau: When Santa Claus was young.
IV. This little lad, with happy smile,
Of toys and candies has a pile.
Good Santa filled his stocking, so--
A Merry Christmas he has, I know.
Tableau: "Merry Christmas."
V. But there are children not far away,
Who scarce know the meaning of Christmas Day.
O share with these, ye whose plenteous store
Can fill a dozen homes or more.
Tableau: "No Christmas."
VI. The Christmas Waits, in times of old,
Sang carols sweet, though the night was cold,
And wandered thus, from door to door,
Till morning dawned, in days of yore.
Tableau: The Christmas Waits. [_The curtain does not rise until the
verse is ended, then shows empty stage. The_ WAITS _begin
their carol behind the scenes, marching single file till the first
couple is opposite the opening, when they turn, join hands, and enter
two by two. The march of the_ WAITS _may be as simple or
as elaborate as desired, or as the size of the stage permits. Or
they may walk to the footlights, and stand there during a part of
their song. The smallest couple should, of course, lead. The stage,
darkened for the earlier tableaux, should be made bright for this
march. At the end of the march, the_ WAITS _pass out as they
entered, and the back curtain is dropped._][18]
[Footnote 18: Carol used by Waits: "Noël! Noël! the Christ is born"
(p. 62, "Songs and Games for Little Ones"). No better marching song
can be found. See Suggestions for Carols, p. 315.]
[_The_ BROWNIE _comes forward and stands by_
TED, _tapping him with the wand._
BROWNIE. Merry Christmas, Ted! It has come at last! [_Rushes
away and vanishes in chimney._]
TED [_sits up, stretches, yawns, rubs his eyes, and looks
around_]. Why! I do believe I've slept here all night! [_Sits on
table._] And, my! maybe you think I haven't been dreaming! Guess I'll
go see what time it is. [_Goes to door, turns, and sees stockings._]
Jiminy Christmas, just look at those stockings! [_Exit._]
[_Enter_ NURSE _with duster. Sees stockings._
NURSE. Well, well! did I ever! Santa Claus has been pretty
good to them this year.
MARJORIE [_without, calling_]. Maggie! Maggie! Mamma says we
may have our stockings right off now. Please bring them to us, quick!
NURSE. That I will, Miss Margie, fast as ever I can! [_Lifts
them down._] Crammed full, I declare! and heavy!--heavy as that
good-for-nothing Bridget's cake!
[_Exit_ NURSE. _Enter_ BROWNIE, _cautiously
following her to door._
BROWNIE [_peeping out_]. I've got to see the end of this
experiment! [_Flies back to chimney and hides._]
[_Enter_ NURSE.
NURSE [_dusting_]. Old Santa Claus is mighty good to these
children. Fills up stockings like those, and then comes himself and
brings a tree on top of all that. They must be pets of his.
[_Enter_ TED _dejectedly, sits down, and drops
his head on his arms._
NURSE. Dear, dear! whatever is the matter, Master Ted?
TED [_darkly_]. Oh, go downstairs, Maggie, and you'll see!
NURSE. Mercy on us! what's happened? [_Shakes him._]
TED. Oh, dear, oh, dear! the children don't like their
stockings!
NURSE. What's that you say?
TED [_very despairingly_]. Oh, go away! Go downstairs, and
you'll see.
NURSE [_in tragic tones_]. Such a thing never happened in
this blessed house before! [_Rushes out._]
TED [_sitting up_]. Oh, dear, what shall I do about it? It's just
dreadful, and it's all my fault. [BROWNIE _pokes his head out._] They
don't want my things, either, or I'd be glad to give them all I got.
[_Puts his head down again. Enter_ KITTY, MARJORIE, _and_ ROBIN,
_disconsolately. Girls sit by fire_, ROBIN _at table._]
ROBIN. Well, Kitty, do you think Santa Claus couldn't _read_
our letters?
KITTY. I don't know _what_ to think!
MARJORIE. Well, how could he make such dreadful mistakes?
ROBIN [_rubbing his eyes_]. Didn't bring one single thing I
asked for--didn't bring a thing but books and puzzles!
KITTY [_elbows on knees and chin in hands_]. Brought me a
box of fishing tackle--and I just _hate_ to fish!
MARJORIE [_putting handkerchief to eyes_]. He gave me big
rubber boots--and I don't _like_ to wade in the brook--I'm afraid of
_snakes_!
[TED, _in the depths of woe, slips to the floor
and rests his head on his chair._
ROBIN. Don't see why Ted feels so badly--Santa Claus gave
him everything he asked for!
KITTY. Yes, and Rosy's stocking was all right. I'm glad she
got what she wanted--bless her little heart!
MARJORIE [_suddenly_]. Oh, Kitty, what shall we do when
Santa Clans comes and asks us how we liked them?
KITTY. I don't care--I _can't_ thank him for those horrid
old fish-hooks!
ROBIN [_with decision_]. I'm just going to tell him he can
take his puzzles and give them to some other boy!
[_Enter_ FATHER _and_ MOTHER, _sharing the
general gloom._
FATHER [_in a puzzled tone_]. It's the most singular thing!
MOTHER. I never heard of Santa Claus making a mistake before.
FATHER. Two empty cigar boxes in my stocking!
TED [_aside, dismally_]. Those were for Robin and me to make
lanterns of!
FATHER. I'm sure I don't know who wants those!
MOTHER. And a roll of the muslin I make sails of for the
boys' boats, in my stocking! With some old rags!
TED [_aside again_]. Kite-tails!
FATHER. Well, Santa Claus has certainly lost his mind!
MOTHER. Well, he'll be here very soon, and perhaps we shall
find out what these queer presents mean. [_Looks at her watch._]
Come, children, you must get your faces washed, and look as bright as
you can for him.
FATHER. Perhaps, after all, it's just some joke of his.
[_Exeunt all but_ TED.
TED [_jumping up_]. I know! I'll see Santa Claus first, and
_beg_ him to take back these things---- [_Runs to fireplace, calling
softly._] Oh, Santa Claus! Santa Claus! _do_ hurry! [_Sleigh bells in
distance._] Oh, Santa Claus!
SANTA CLAUS [_up chimney_]. Who's that I hear calling me?
TED. It's me--me--me! Ted Bird! Oh, _please_ hurry!
SANTA CLAUS. Yes, yes! But this chimney's such a tight
squeeze! [_Loud jingling._]
TED. Oh, please be quiet! Please don't make such a noise!
[_Enter_ SANTA CLAUS, _through fireplace, bowing
low to_ TED.
SANTA CLAUS. Not make a noise? I'd just like to know who has
a better right to make a noise than I?
TED. Oh, yes, I know, but I _must_ speak to you before the
others come in! [_Pulls up a chair, stands on it, and puts his arm
across_ SANTA CLAUS' _shoulders._]
SANTA CLAUS. What's all this secrecy about?
TED. It's just this, Santa Claus. The Brownie let me help
him last night, and I told him such nice things to put in the
stockings, and now nobody likes them, and everything's in a terrible
muddle!
SANTA CLAUS. Oho! So you've been finding out that it isn't
so easy, after all, to give people what they want, have you?
TED. But, Santa Claus, I truly thought they would like it,
and now it's just dreadful! What shall I do? If you'll only give them
what they _do_ want, you can take back all my things! I wish you
would! Don't you think you could, just for this once? [ROSE
_runs in._]
ROSE. Oh, Santa Claus! Santa Claus! [_Exit, calling._]
Come, Papa, come, Mamma, here's Santa Claus! Robin! Marjorie! Kitty!
[_Enter all. The older children hang back_, ROSE _runs to_
SANTA CLAUS _and stands by him._]
FATHER [_shaking hands with_ SANTA CLAUS]. How do
you do, sir, how do you do?
MOTHER. We're very glad to see you again, Santa Claus.
[_Motions others to come_, NURSE _also urging them in
pantomime._]
SANTA CLAUS [_patting_ ROSE'S _head, and looking
at other children_]. I hear there are some children here who weren't
pleased with what I brought them. How's this? [_Children turn away,
and hang their heads in embarrassment._]
SANTA CLAUS [_to_ FATHER]. What does this mean? Can
you explain it, Mr. Bird?
FATHER. Well--a--you see, the stockings really weren't
filled after your usual thoughtful manner.
SANTA CLAUS [_bursts into a loud laugh, at which the
children turn in injured astonishment_]. Well, well! That's a good
joke!
KITTY [_in an injured tone_]. We didn't think it was a joke
at all, Santa Claus.
SANTA CLAUS. Well, my dear, you will when I tell you about
it. You see, I had a new helper, last night, and it wasn't to be
expected that one so new to the business wouldn't make some mistakes.
Well, this one made a good many,---- [_to_ TED] didn't he?
TED [_dolefully_]. I should think he did! He didn't do
anything else at all!
SANTA CLAUS. But when he found out about it, he felt very
badly, indeed,---- [_to_ TED] didn't he?
TED. He never felt worse in his life!
SANTA CLAUS. So he came to me and begged me to fix the
matter for him, and I've agreed to do it. He never suspected that I
knew about it before he told me, but I did know, all the time, and
so I've come prepared to make it up to you for all the trouble Ted
caused----
ALL. _Ted!_
SANTA CLAUS. Yes, Ted. [_With pretended fierceness._] He
meddled with my business last night.
CHILDREN [_shocked_]. Oh, Santa Claus!
SANTA CLAUS. But I'm going to forgive him, because I think
he learned a good many things about Christmas while he was at it. And
I never _could_ bear to see anyone unhappy when I pay my yearly call,
so come along, children, come, Father and Mother Bird, and we'll see
if we can't find something to suit you all under the branches of my
Tree![19]
[Footnote 19: See note on Tree, p. 314, and Tree-song, p. 315.]
[_Unveiling of Christmas Tree follows. Children
mingle with audience, and general
distribution of presents takes place._
NOTES ON COSTUME, SETTING, AND PRESENTATION
For the parents, nurse, and children, ordinary costumes. Adult parts
taken by older girls and boy. Ages of children as indicated in cast.
BROWNIE. Wears a close-fitting suit of dark brown canton
flannel, with trimmings of lighter brown or tan--a small collar,
cuffs, and a belt with long points. The shoes are long, with points
turned up at the toes, and the cap, close-fitting, hides the hair
and covers the neck at the back, but allows the ears to show. It is
finished with a point (stuffed and wired to keep it upright) which
comes from the back and curves above the head.
All the Brownie's actions and motions should be startlingly sudden
and swift. He should alternate between absolute stillness, and a
quickness like a wild bird's.
A great deal of humor can be put into the scene of disappointment
over the stockings, especially by the older girls and boy who play
the adult parts.
Prepare a double set of stockings, one empty, the other filled; the
Brownie carries out the empty ones, and returns with the full ones.
As these are not examined on the stage, they may be stuffed with
anything that is most convenient. Have in readiness a row of small
hooks on the mantel, for hanging them.
For SANTA CLAUS' costume, see note, p. 313.
COSTUMES IN THE "DREAM"
JACK HORNER. May be dressed, if desired, in Kate Greenaway
style, but ordinary costume is all that is required. Jack recites the
nursery rhyme, at the end pulling a large plum out of a brown paper
pie.
MRS. SANTA CLAUS. A plump little girl in a long dark dress,
white apron and kerchief, big white cap with wide frill, and large
spectacles on her nose. One hand holds the corner of her apron full
of toys, the other is stretched out as if dispensing gifts to the
children.
YOUNG SANTA CLAUS. Little boy in boots, thick coat, toboggan
cap and mittens, well covered with white cotton snow, and sprinkled
at the last moment with diamond dust. He stands with one hand on a
tall red chimney, the other just lifting his heavy pack of toys.
Make chimney by covering a long dry-goods box with red, and painting
bricks with ordinary black ink. Set on stage for this tableau.
"Merry Christmas." Little boy, daintily dressed, his arms full of
toys, with a drum, a horse, etc., piled at his feet.
"No Christmas." A very ragged boy and girl. The boy stands with his
left arm around his little sister, his right hand holding hers. The
child looks up into his face confidingly.
The Christmas Waits. Four boys and four girls between six and
twelve years of age. These children may be elaborately dressed,
after Seventeenth Century pictures, or very simply--the girls in
white kerchiefs and caps, the boys in short capes of any dull black
material, with steeple hats, made of cardboard covered with black.
These children should have good voices for the carol, "Noël! Noël!
the Christ is born!"[20] March as described in text.
[Footnote 20: See note, p. 315.]
These tableaux are arranged on a small stage or platform behind scene
at back, upon which the light is concentrated, the main stage being
darkened. Properties should be in readiness, and the children must be
taught to take their poses quickly and without noise.
For this small stage or platform a kindergarten table serves
excellently, covered with dark green, a step being placed for the
use of the Waits in their march. If practicable, a curtain made
to match the scene, and rise for the tableaux, may be used, but
plain curtains, hung like portières, and parting in the center, are
also effective. Attention should not in any way be drawn to this
curtain, in order that the first tableau may come as a surprise to
the audience. The point of chief importance is that, whatever the
arrangement of the curtain, it should work silently and without
hitch.
A PURITAN CHRISTMAS
IN TWO ACTS
CHARACTERS
MISTRESS DELIGHT GOODSPEEDE.
ROGER }
MYLES }
NATHAN } Her children.
PATIENCE }
PRUDENCE }
EAGLEFEATHER, son of an Indian chief.
ELDER JONATHAN HOPKINS }
DEACON WILLIAM PORTER }
GOODMAN JOHN TURNER }
DOMINIE PETER COBB }
GILBERT APPLETON, a hunter }
MISTRESS SUBMIT WELLS } Colonists
MISTRESS PRAISEVER PORTER }
DESIRE PORTER }
} and
REUBEN TURNER }
GERSHOM PORTER }
JARED PERKINS } Children
JANE PORTER }
PRISCILLA WELLS }
_The action takes place in a small New England village, not far from
Boston, in the early days of the colonies._
[Illustration: PRUDENCE]
[Illustration: EAGLEFEATHER]
A PURITAN CHRISTMAS
Suggested by a story in _St. Nicholas_ for December, 1880, by S.J.
Prichard.[21]
[Footnote 21: By courtesy of Miss K.A. Prichard and The Century
Company.]
ACT I
TIME: _Evening of December 18th._
SCENE: _Kitchen in_ MISTRESS GOODSPEEDE'S _cottage, a simple and
bare little room. Open fireplace[22] [R.], with exit beside it
supposed to lead to loft. Back R., door; L., window, opening upon a
desolate winter scene. L., door, leading to another chamber. Down L.,
a spinning-wheel. Furniture, a few plain chairs and stools, and a
settle. By the window a table where little_ PRUDENCE _and_ PATIENCE
_are washing the supper dishes._ PATIENCE _stands upon a stool in
order to reach the dishpan more easily_, PRUDENCE _wipes the dishes
and lays them on the table._
[Footnote 22: See note on Fireplace, p. 313.]
PATIENCE [_severely_]. Prudence, if thee's not very careful,
I know thee'll drop the platter!
PRUDENCE. Oh, no! Patience, I'm being very careful. I
wouldn't let it drop for anything. It's Mother's very best platter,
too.
PATIENCE. And if thee broke it, who knows if dear Mother
could ever get a new one? She hath told me many a time she brought it
with her from Old England, and she saith the like cannot be found
here--even in Boston town.
PRUDENCE [_gives it an admiring look, then lays it
cautiously on the table_]. I'm sure it's the most beautiful platter
that ever was seen. Are there many more dishes, Patience, dear?
PATIENCE [_in a motherly tone_]. No. Poor little maid, I
fear me thou'rt very weary. Here--just these cups, and I'll help
thee. [_Gets down from stool and helps to wipe one or two cups._]
Where are the boys, I wonder? You and I, Prudence, can never, never
reach to put the dishes away on the shelf.
PRUDENCE. No, but brother Roger or Myles can do it. Mother
says they grow like tall weeds.
PATIENCE. And the parson says they are brave striplings.
[_Sighs._] I would I were tall and strong. Then I should never be
afraid of----
PRUDENCE [_looks fearfully over her shoulder_]. Afraid of
_what_, Patience?
PATIENCE [_putting her arm around_ PRUDENCE]. Oh,
never mind, Prudence, dear, not afraid of, of--_anything_.
PRUDENCE [_pushes her back and shakes her finger_], I know,
Patience, thee was going to say--Indians! Oh, Patience, doesn't thee
wish Mother'd come home? [_Lays her head on_ PATIENCE'S
_shoulder._ MYLES _and_ NATHAN _pass the window._]
PATIENCE. Never mind, sister, here come Myles and Nathan.
[_Enter the boys._] Myles, has thee seen Roger?
NATHAN. Roger has gone to fetch our Mother home.
PRUDENCE [_going to table_]. Oh, Myles, won't thee please put the
dishes up for us? Patience and I are far too little. [NATHAN _and_
PRUDENCE _carry dishes one at a time to_ MYLES, _who puts them on
mantel._ PATIENCE _wrings out her dishcloth._]
MYLES. Where is Mother, Patience?
PATIENCE. Mistress Submit Wells hath a fever, and after
supper Mother went to see if there was aught she could do to help.
NATHAN [_looking out of the window_]. I see Mother and Roger
coming up the hill now.
PATIENCE. Quick, Nathan! Empty the pan for us!
[PATIENCE _opens the door for_ NATHAN, _who carries
pan out._ PATIENCE _hangs up dishcloth in haste._] Mother
must find everything neat when she comes.
[_Re-enter_ NATHAN, _putting pan in cupboard
or under table._
MYLES [_mockingly_]. Thou art a great housewife, Patience.
PRUDENCE [_joyfully_]. Here they are!
[_Enter_ MOTHER _and_ ROGER. PRUDENCE,
PATIENCE, _and_ NATHAN _gather about her
while she takes off her cape and follow her
to the door (L.) when she puts it away._
ROGER, _hanging up his hat, goes to fire._
PATIENCE. How did thee find Mistress Wells, Mother?
MOTHER. Much better to-night, daughter.
PRUDENCE [_catching at her skirts_]. Thou'lt not go back,
then, Mother?
MOTHER. No, little Prudence, not to-night.
ROGER. It's fearsome cold out. Do stir the fire, Myles.
[_Warms his hands, while_ MYLES _stirs fire._]
NATHAN. Then come sit down with us by the fire, Mother. Thee
surely won't work any more to-night?
MOTHER. I am willing, Nathan, but I must be knitting. With
three great lads who wear out so many stockings, I am kept more than
busy, even if the good parson did not exhort us never to be idle.
[_Exit and re-enter with knitting._]
PATIENCE [_drawing up her_ MOTHER'S _chair and
arranging stools_]. Here, Mother, here's thy big chair. Prudence and
I will get our stools. Oh, Roger, do get out of the way! Make haste!
Thee's such a giant thee'll block the firelight out entirely.
[ROGER _gets up and stands before the fire,
while the_ MOTHER _sits down_, PRUDENCE
_beside her with a corncob doll and_ PATIENCE
_at her knee, also knitting._ MYLES
_sits with his back against the chimney and_
NATHAN _lies at full length before the
fire._
ROGER [_good-humoredly_]. What a pity thee didn't name that
child _Im_patience, Mother. It would become her so much better.
MOTHER [_while_ PATIENCE _bends her face low over
her knitting_]. Does thee think it would make it any easier for her
to be good, Roger?
ROGER. Well, I'm glad thou gavest us good sober English
names. I'm sure 'twould never help me to be good if I had been named
Hate-Evil, like Elder Hopkins' son. Think of it--Hate-Evil Hopkins!
MYLES. And if Father had called me Love-the-Truth or
Have-Courage, instead of naming me after our fine Captain Standish, I
know I never would have tried half so hard to be brave and truthful.
MOTHER. _That_ was what Father cared for, Myles, whatever
thy name might have been.
ROGER. One of us is fitly named, at any rate, Mother, and
that is thyself, Mistress Delight Goodspeede! [_Bows._]
PATIENCE. Yes, Mother _is_ our Delight.
MYLES. And everybody's else, too.
MOTHER [_laughing_]. Take care, children, you will make me
vain, and then the parson will preach a whole sermon about vanity,
and call out in the midst of it, "Delight Goodspeede, stand forth!"
ROGER. How terrible! [_All laugh._]
NATHAN. He calleth vanity a light and shallow thing, but
I'll warrant me he would turn his hour-glass at the least four times
while he discoursed upon it.
MYLES. More terrible still!
[_All laugh again. A knock at the door._
ROGER _goes to answer it_, NATHAN _sits up
with interest, and_ PRUDENCE, _who has been
walking her corncob doll up and down,
rushes to her_ MOTHER'S _chair._
ROGER [_his hand on the lock_]. Who knocks?
INDIAN [_without_]. Eaglefeather!
ROGER [_turning to his_ MOTHER]. Mother, 'tis the
Indian boy you helped when he was wounded last winter. May I let him
in?
MOTHER. He hath always been friendly. Open for him, Roger.
ROGER [_opening the door_]. Come in, Eaglefeather! Thou'rt
right welcome.
[_Enter_ INDIAN, _bow in hand._ MYLES _and_
NATHAN _go to him._
MOTHER. What does he want, Roger? Mayhap he is hungry.
ROGER [_pointing to his mouth_]. Hungry, Eaglefeather? Want
something to eat? Bread?
INDIAN [_shakes his head_]. No hungry. Braves go hunt.
[_Draws his bow._] Kill much, much, much deer. [_Spreads out his
arms._] No hungry; cold. [_Folds his arms and shivers._] Can warm?
[_Boys bring him to fire._]
MOTHER. Yes, indeed; make room for him, boys.
MYLES. He can stay as long as he likes, mayn't he, Mother?
MOTHER [_smiles and nods at the boy_]. Yes, we know he is
our friend. We trust him.
NATHAN. Doesn't thee remember how he taught us to shoot, and
make baskets for thee and the girls?
INDIAN. Hmph! Eaglefeather teach young brave much more some
day. Many, many new thing.
NATHAN. Oh, that is good news. What things, Eaglefeather?
INDIAN. Eaglefeather not tell. Eaglefeather show, to-morrow.
Tired now. March long, long time.
MOTHER. Yes, poor lad. Let him rest now, boys.
[INDIAN _lies before fire_, ROGER _and_ MYLES
_as before_, NATHAN _behind_ MOTHER'S
_chair._
ROGER. Thou'rt always the one to think of making folks
comfortable, Mother. What would Mistress Wells say if she saw
Eaglefeather here now?
MYLES. He never would be beside _her_ kitchen fire.
NATHAN. Not if he was frozen stiff.
MOTHER. For shame, boys; Mistress Wells hath been very kind
to us.
PATIENCE. I think she is a very sour-visaged woman, and I
can't see why thee wants to help her.
[MOTHER _gazes thoughtfully into the
fire._
ROGER [_watching her_]. I know what Mother is thinking of!
MOTHER. Tell us, then, Roger, if thou be a wizard.
ROGER. Mother is thinking that in Old England this is
Yule-tide----
MOTHER. Verily, I believe thou _art_ a wizard, Roger, for
thou'st guessed aright!
MYLES _and_ NATHAN. Tell us about the Yule-tide,
Mother.
PRUDENCE. Is _this_ the Christmas day, Mother?
ROGER. No, Prudence. It's the twenty-fifth that is
Christmas. Isn't it, Mother?
MYLES. Just a week from to-day?
MOTHER. Yes, children, just a week from to-day it will be
Christmas in Old England.
PATIENCE. But why did Mistress Wells make thee think of
Christmas?
MOTHER. 'Twas what Myles said about Mistress Wells and
Eaglefeather here. 'Twas because Christmas in my father's home in Old
England was the time of all others when people did kind and friendly
deeds, when poor folks came to the houses of rich men without fear of
being driven away, and our homes were open to all who needed food and
warmth.
PRUDENCE [_wonderingly_]. Why, then, Mother, I think it must
have been like heaven!
NATHAN. Mother, doesn't thee sometimes wish we were all back
in England once more?
MOTHER [_earnestly_]. Never wish that, my son.
MYLES. Not after all the bitter cold winters and hardships
here, Mother?
MOTHER. 'Tis the very hardships we have endured that will
build up a new and better England for us here, Myles---- But the Old
Christmas was a happy time.
[EAGLEFEATHER, _who has been sleeping, sits
up, and from this point listens intently._
ROGER. Won't thee tell us more about it, then?
MOTHER. I've told thee many times already, Roger, how the
great Yule-log was brought in and lighted on Christmas Eve--such a
monster log that it would burn until Twelfth Night. We always saved
a bit of it, then, to light the next year's log. The old folks said
that was for luck. All the young folks went out into the forest to
gather the Christmas greens, holly, mistletoe, and long festoons of
ground pine for wreaths. Ah, it was merry work, and the great hall
in my father's house was a brave sight when we had decked it in the
green. And on Christmas day we had our Christmas bough covered with
shining candles and bright gifts for each other.
PRUDENCE. How beautiful, Mother!
MOTHER. And we were awakened at dawning by the poor children
of the village singing their joyous carols beneath our windows.
MYLES. How I wish I could hear them!
ROGER. The singing in our meeting on the Sabbath isn't very
joyful, is it, Myles?
MYLES. Beshrew me if 'tis. This is the way the elders and deacons
stand and sing. [MYLES _and_ ROGER _stand side by side, eyes closed
and hands folded before them, droning an old psalm tune._][23]
[Footnote 23: As the boys would hardly have been permitted to finish
their song, the mother may leave the room before they begin, coming
back to reprove them sharply when it is over.]
Tune: "Windsor."
My days consume away like Smoak
Mine anguish is so great.
My bones are not unlike a hearth
Parched and dry with heat.
Such is my grief I little else
Can do but sigh and groan.
So wasted is my flesh I'm left
Nothing but skin and bone.
Like th' Owl and Pelican that dwell
In desarts out of sight
I sadly do bemoan myself
In solitude delight.
The Ashes I rowl in when I eat
Are tasted with my bread
And with my drink are mixed the tears
I plentifully shed.
MOTHER [_rising_]. Roger and Myles, silence! I will not have
this wicked mocking of our good elders. Haven't you heard the parson
tell the story of how the bears ate the children who mocked Elisha?
ROGER. Forgive us, Mother, we meant no disrespect.
MYLES. But, verily, the sound of the singing maketh me
almost as sad as the sight of the bears could.
NATHAN. But, Mother, why do the good fathers never allow us
to have a Christmas?
ROGER. There can be no wrong in the things thou'st told us.
Peace and good will and neighborliness.
MOTHER. But that was not all, Roger. With the feasting and
merriment came much that the good Puritan Fathers did well to abolish.
PRUDENCE [_stands at_ MOTHER'S _knee_]. But,
Mother, isn't a birthday always a happy day? [MOTHER _nods
and smiles._] Then I should think the Lord Christ's birthday would be
the very happiest day of all, and the good parson would like to have
us sing and be joyful and glad.
MOTHER [_kisses her_]. Thou'rt too little to understand it
yet, my Prudence. [_Rises._] Come, we have sat too long with our
talking. If our candles are not soon out, the tithing-man will be
tapping at our door and reproving us. [_Leads the two little girls
and_ NATHAN _to door (L.)_]. Come, children. Myles, see that
the fire is safe. Roger, is the door fast? [MYLES _and_
ROGER _attend to the fire and the door._]
INDIAN. Must Eaglefeather go now?
MOTHER. Does thee think, lad, that savage though thou art,
I would drive thee out into the bitter night? No, there is too much
Yule-tide in our hearts for that! I have no bed for thee, but lay
thee down by the fire and welcome. [_Begins to wind the clock._]
Boys, bring in some straw for a bed---- Stay a moment. Straw will not
do. A chance spark from the fire might light it, and burn the house
above our heads. There is an old mat in the shed without. See if you
can find it.
[_Exeunt all three boys_; MOTHER _takes down
candles from mantel and slowly extinguishes
one; holds the other in her hand, absently
snuffing it. Stands facing audience._
MOTHER [_musingly_]. I told little Prudence she was too young to
understand, yet with my years, am I quite sure that I understand it
myself? No, the good Fathers can never crush and kill the loving
Christmas spirit. [_Enter boys, quietly arranging mat, on which_
INDIAN _stretches himself._ ROGER _goes to fasten door._] Why should
little children _not_ be joyous and glad on the holy day? Why should
not I _help_ them to celebrate it? [_Hesitates, then firmly and
decidedly._] I believe--I _will_ do it! Boys, come here. [_Boys come
to her side._ REUBEN TURNER _and_ GERSHOM PORTER _pass window, glance
in curiously, then bend close, listening to all that is said._]
Roger, what would thee and Myles say to a Christmas bough of our very
own?
MYLES. Oh, Mother!
ROGER. Does thee mean truly, Mother?
MOTHER. Of a truth I do mean it, Roger.
ROGER. But, Mother, they will persecute thee----
MYLES. And drive us all into the wilderness----
ROGER. And with Father away on his ship, who could take care
of thee?
MOTHER. I have come into one wilderness before, Myles. I am
not afraid.
ROGER. But how can we do it, Mother?
MOTHER. I will go up to Boston town to-morrow--I can easily
walk there and back again before 'tis dusk--and buy what little
things I may for gifts. I hear that a ship has but now come into port.
MYLES. Doesn't thee wish it was Father's vessel, Roger?
ROGER. _Then_ wouldn't we have a Christmas!
MOTHER. 'Twill be many a weary month before Father's ship
returns, I fear. But whatever this bark may be, she hath surely
brought some small trinkets that will do for us. I'll find them and
bring them home with me. Then on the day before Christmas thou and
Myles must go into the woods and cut a small evergreen, as perfect a
one as you can find. At dark on Christmas Eve you can bring it home,
and when the children are in bed we will dress it. Then, early on
Christmas dawn, before the neighbors are stirring, we will light it
and wake the little ones.
ROGER. But, Mother, they will surely find us out!
MYLES. That Reuben Turner is always spying upon us. And so
is Gershom Porter. [_Boys at window dodge below the sill._]
ROGER. And, Mother, they think thou art only half a Puritan
now, because thou canst sometimes smile and art not always stern and
sour like the rest.
MYLES. And they say thou art vain and frivolous because thou
keep'st brazen fire-dogs and candlesticks instead of iron ones.
ROGER. And dost not dress thy daughters in solemn black.
MOTHER [_laughing_]. Do they say so? What a list of sins!
[_Seriously._] With thee and Myles to help me I am not afraid.
We will have our Christmas bough--no, not a bough, but a whole
_tree_--if we needs must light it at midnight and cover the window
with blankets! Now get quickly to bed in the loft. 'Tis shocking late!
[_All turn to go, boys, R._, MOTHER _to door
(L.)._
MYLES [_running after her_]. Mother, Mother! won't thee
teach us some Christmas carols, some _real_ joyful ones--so I can
forget about those bears?
MOTHER. Yes, yes, Myles. Now go quickly. This shall be the
first Christmas in New England.
CURTAIN
ACT II
TIME: _Before dawn of December 25th._
SCENE: _Same as before. Stage quite dark except for
firelight. Window covered with a blanket. Lights high on one
side at back to represent moonlight when door is opened. Enter_
MOTHER _[L.] with a lighted candle. Goes to door [R.]._
MOTHER [_calling_]. Roger! Myles! Make haste. [_Looks at
clock, arranges fire, examines blanket hurriedly._]
MYLES [_softly_]. We're coming, Mother. [_Enter_
MYLES _and_ ROGER _(R.)._]
ROGER. Are the others waked yet, Mother?
MOTHER. Yes, they are dressing. Quickly now, bring in the
tree whilst I see if they need help. [_Exit (L.), leaving candle on
mantel. Boys open outer door._]
ROGER. How cold it is. See, Myles, the moon hath not yet set.
MYLES. Yes, yes. Come, Roger. [_Disappear (L.)._]
[REUBEN TURNER _and_ GERSHOM PORTER
_at door, look cautiously in, then peer
around after the boys._
REUBEN [_softly_]. I see naught of any Christmas bough.
GERSHOM. Yet we surely heard them planning---- How angry the
parson would be. I believe he would even drive them away like the
Quakers.
REUBEN. My father bade me look and bring him word if what
they said was true.
GERSHOM. Beshrew me, if they haven't covered the window so
that none may see them.
[MYLES _and_ ROGER _heard returning with exclamations
"Have a care!" "Gently
now!" etc._ REUBEN _and_ GERSHOM _hide
themselves without. Enter_ ROGER _and_
MYLES _with the tree already decked and
fastened in a small wooden box, which they
place in center of stage. Their backs
turned_, REUBEN _and_ GERSHOM _appear
again at door, hold up their hands in horror,
whisper together, and make signs of
caution. Watch until_ MOTHER _appears,
then they vanish._
MYLES. There: we got it in quite safely, Roger. Dost think
the Christmas boughs in England could have been prettier?
ROGER [_at door_]. Mother, we're ready now.
[_Enter_ MOTHER, _taking candle again._
MOTHER. Roger, Roger! shut the door at once, careless boy!
Art mad? [ROGER _fastens door._] The children are nearly
ready and grow impatient. Make torches, both of you, and help me to
light the candles.
[_Boys take splinters of wood from the fireplace
and all go about the tree, lighting
candles, arranging gifts more firmly, etc.,
while_ PATIENCE _and_ PRUDENCE, _without,
sing "Waken, Christian Children."_
WAKEN, CHRISTIAN CHILDREN[24]
[Footnote 24: See note on Carols, p. 315.]
(From "Christmas Carols New and Old," Novello & Company.)
Waken, Christian children,
Up, and let us sing,
With glad voice, the praises
Of our new-born King.
Come, nor fear to seek Him,
Children though we be;
Once He said of children,
"Let them come to Me."
In a manger lowly,
Sleeps the Heavenly Child;
O'er Him fondly bendeth
Mary, Mother mild.
Haste we then to welcome,
With a joyous lay,
Christ, the King of Glory,
Born for us to-day.
(There are additional verses, and this hymn is to be found
in various collections. A slightly different version is in
Eleanor Smith's "Songs for Little Children," Part I.)
NATHAN [_without_]. Can't we come now, Mother?
MOTHER. One moment, children!
PATIENCE. It grows light, Mother. I'm afeared. Mustn't we
hasten?
MOTHER. Presently, presently! Is all ready, Roger?
MYLES. Yes, every candle.
MOTHER [_going to door (L.)_]. Come, now!
[_Enter_ NATHAN, PATIENCE, _and_ PRUDENCE
_(L.), the girls singing first verse of their
song._
PATIENCE [_breaking off_]. _Oh_, Mother!
NATHAN. How beautiful!
PRUDENCE. Oh, Mother, it feels like a dream!
MOTHER [_bending over her and leading her near_]. It is no
dream, little daughter. Come near and see.
[PRUDENCE _timidly touches one branch with
her finger._
PRUDENCE [_turning quickly and looking up to her_
MOTHER]. Oh! it _is_ real!
MYLES. Of course it is real. A real Christmas Tree.
ROGER [_folding his arms_]. Now I feel like a real
Englishman!
NATHAN. Is this like the boughs thee remembers when thee was
a little girl, Mother?
MOTHER. As much like as I could make it, Nathan. Except that
I like this one even better.
PATIENCE. Oh, see the pretty presents! Oh, did Eaglefeather
make these lovely baskets for us?
MYLES. Yes, and that's why he wouldn't let thee see what he
was working on.
NATHAN. But where _is_ Eaglefeather, Myles?
ROGER. We can't think where he is. He didn't come back last
night.
PATIENCE. Oh, I don't want him to miss it!
MYLES. Hark! [_A bob-white is heard without._] That's his
whistle now.
MOTHER. Open cautiously, Myles.
[MYLES _and_ ROGER _open door a little and
close it as soon as the Indian has slipped
through._ PATIENCE _and_ PRUDENCE _run
to draw him to the tree._
PATIENCE. See, Eaglefeather! Just see our Christmas Tree!
PRUDENCE. Isn't it _beautiful_, Eaglefeather?
INDIAN. Beautiful! Eaglefeather think like many stars!
[_Points to candles, then touches something shining._] Like sun
shining on snow fields.
MYLES. Now, Mother, can't we sing our carol?
MOTHER. Yes, Myles, and then it will be more than ever like
Old England.
[_All sing "Come Ye Lofty." At the end of
second verse a sound of great knocking,
shouting, and calls of "Open! Open!
Mistress Goodspeede."_ PATIENCE _and_
PRUDENCE _hide behind their_ MOTHER,
NATHAN _stands at her side_, MYLES _and_
ROGER _seize sticks, and_ EAGLEFEATHER
_draws a small tomahawk._
PATIENCE _and_ PRUDENCE. 'Tis Indians!
ROGER. 'Tis no Indians, 'tis the colonists!
MYLES. They've found us out!
[_Noise continues._
TURNER _and_ PORTER. Open! open there!
MISTRESS WELLS. I see the light----
DESIRE PORTER. It shines through the cracks here----
DOMINIE COBB. Verily none need hope to conceal evil!
TURNER [_knocking louder_]. Open! open!
MISTRESS PORTER. Shut in like wolves----
GERSHOM. Yea--like wolves in a cage----
REUBEN. I told thee the window was covered.
JARED. Mayhap the house is afire!
ELDER HOPKINS. Hold, friends! [_Silence without._] Mistress
Goodspeede, in the name of the _Governor_ I command you to open for
us!
ROGER [_looking to his_ MOTHER]. _Must_ I, Mother?
MOTHER [_huskily_]. Open for them, Roger.
[ROGER _opens the door and all but_ GILBERT
APPLETON _press in. Chorus of scandalized
exclamations, "Oh, oh!"_
PORTER. What is the meaning of this, woman?
DOMINIE COBB. Do not attempt to deceive us!
TURNER. Answer.
MISTRESS WELLS. She hath not a word to say for herself.
MISTRESS PORTER. Ah! we always knew she was not one of the
elect!
REUBEN. And they have even one of the hateful savages with
them!
GERSHOM. Who would harbor the wretches?
DESIRE [_pulling her mother's sleeve_]. But, Mother, see how
pretty it all is!
PRISCILLA. Oh, the beautiful tree! And gifts, too!
JANE. I would it were my little tree. Doesn't thee wish so,
Desire?
DOMINIE COBB. Dost see, woman, how swiftly thy ungodly
example doth work to corrupt these wenches?
MISTRESS PORTER. Silence, Desire! [_She and_ MISTRESS
WELLS _try to hustle the children out of sight of the tree._]
ELDER HOPKINS. Speak, woman, and tell us the meaning of this.
PATIENCE [_timidly_]. Please, sir, 'tis--'tis--'tis a
Christmas Tree!
PORTER. We knew it!
TURNER. Aye, my son Reuben hath told us. He heard them
speaking of it not a week since.
PORTER. And Gershom, too--they have kept good watch upon
these evil-doers.
MYLES [_angrily, to_ REUBEN]. So thou wast
listening at the window. _Sneak!_
REUBEN [_blustering_]. And may not the King's subject walk
upon the King's highway, Sir Cocksparrow?
ROGER [_shaking his fist at boys_]. Methinks 'twill take
the King's soldiers to protect thee when once we catch thee----
GERSHOM. We'll show thee, thou blusterer, if we be not as
free as thou!
[TURNER _and_ PORTER _seize_ REUBEN _and_
GERSHOM _and draw them back._
MOTHER [_sternly, touching_ ROGER'S _shoulder_].
Peace, Roger and Myles. Is this the Christmas spirit we talked of but
now?
ELDER HOPKINS [_severely_]. Woman, dost thou forget that we fled
from England for this very cause, that we might escape and save our
children from just such sinful folly as this? How darest thou, with
these baubles and fripperies, bring temptation into our very midst?
I know of no punishment too severe for such evil examples! Not
the ducking-stool, nor the stocks, nor even banishment itself----
[_Shakes his finger threateningly, at the same time going a step
nearer to her. Enter_ GILBERT APPLETON, _remaining in background._]
EAGLEFEATHER [_springing before_ MISTRESS DELIGHT
_with lifted tomahawk_]. Stop! stop! No hurt good Squaw. Listen!
Me tell. Me Eaglefeather. Father big chief--Bald Eagle. She good,
kind squaw. Take Eaglefeather in, feed, make warm, make hurt foot
well. Teach Eaglefeather be good Indian. Eaglefeather go home camp.
All braves say "This night go burn village." Eaglefeather find Bald
Eagle. Say, "Not burn village. Good people. Indian's friend. Good
squaw. Kind to Eaglefeather." Bald Eagle listen. Eaglefeather tell
about Tree. Say this Christmas Day. Good Day. Nobody hurt nobody.
Bald Eagle listen. Say tell braves. Not let braves burn village. Now,
now! Not hurt kind squaw! [_Folds his arms proudly._]
GILBERT APPLETON [_coming forward_]. Every word the lad says
is true, sir!
ALL. Gilbert Appleton! What does he mean! How does thee know?
GILBERT. Because I was there. Good friends and neighbors,
you all know that I, Gilbert Appleton, have been much among the
savages. I know their speech, and their ways. Bald Eagle's tribe have
always seemed friendly, but two days ago, when I was hunting with my
match-lock near their camp, they made a prisoner of me and kept me
there until just now. What Eaglefeather here hath told you is true.
They would have burned the village if he had not begged the chief
for the sake of Mistress Delight's great kindness to spare it. Good
neighbors, 'tis my belief that this little Christmas tree hath saved
us all! [_During his story all hang upon his words, drawing close and
shuddering at the thought of a massacre, and sighing with relief at
the end._]
ALL. Strange! Wonderful! Did'st ever hear the like!
GILBERT. And, furthermore, the savages, who meant to make me
guide them by the quickest way into our village, were moved to set me
free at midnight and I have but now made my way back to you!
TURNER. Unheard-of forbearance!
DOMINIE COBB. Can we credit our ears!
MISTRESS WELLS. 'Tis like a miracle!
MISTRESS DELIGHT. 'Tis not so strange, either. We do not,
we cannot know how much power even a very little good will and
friendliness may have. I but thought to make my children happy, and
because I loved my dear home in Old England I told them of customs
there.
PRUDENCE. Mother, I would like to tell the good Elder
something.
PATIENCE [_aside_]. He will only say thou art a forward
wench, Prudence.
PRUDENCE. Will he, Mother? Will he frown and say, "Children
should be seen and not heard"?
ELDER HOPKINS. Nay, my little maid. I will listen gladly.
[PRUDENCE _goes to him and puts her hands
in his._
PRUDENCE [_earnestly_]. We didn't think it could be wrong,
good Elder. Mother said it was the Lord's birthday, and we couldn't
help being glad about that, could we? And Mother taught us a song
about it.
ELDER HOPKINS. Then will you sing it for us, little maids?
[PRUDENCE _and_ PATIENCE, _hand in hand,
sing their carol once more, while_ MYLES
_and_ ROGER _go to_ REUBEN TURNER _and_
GERSHOM PORTER _and in pantomime apologize
and shake hands with them._
MISTRESS PORTER. Good friends, these little maids and their
song do touch my heart.
TURNER. Truly, when we sought to bring truth and
righteousness to the new land, I fear we were forgetting charity.
JARED. Was Christmas like this in Old England?
JANE. My Mother would never tell me of it.
PRISCILLA. I would it were so here!
PATIENCE. Mother made the tree for us, but we'd like to give
you all something from it. May we, Mother?
MOTHER. We will gladly share it if the good Elder will
forgive any harm we may have done.
ELDER HOPKINS. Mistress Delight, I have been thinking that
perhaps we have grown over hard and stern.
[_Unhindered now, the children draw close to
the little tree._
DEACON PORTER. There was much that was good in the old ways,
after all.
ELDER HOPKINS. I will take a sprig in memory of the happy
Christmases in Old England.
MISTRESS WELLS. Perhaps we may e'en keep what was good in
the old ways here in this New England. I'll take a bit of green, too.
ALL THE OTHERS. And I, too. And I!
MISTRESS DELIGHT. For the sake of the happy Christmases of
old, and the homes we left, and more than all for the sake of the
very first Christmas Day of all, let us sing one of the dear old
carols we have loved so long.
ELDER HOPKINS. Willingly, Mistress Delight.
[_All sing "Come Ye Lofty,"[25] and while singing
come forward and take bits of green
from the Tree, which_ GILBERT APPLETON,
REUBEN TURNER, _and_ ROGER _cut for
them._
[Footnote 25: See note on Carols, p. 316.]
CURTAIN
NOTES ON COSTUME AND STAGING
Grown people, whose parts are taken by boys and girls from seventeen
to twenty, and children, are dressed alike--men and boys in
knee-trousers, coats with square white collars and cuffs, large belt-
and shoe-buckles, broad-brimmed felt hats, with crowns high and flat.
If the costumes are to be fully carried out, all should wear wigs,
cropped round. Or they may be worn by the Elders only.
Women and girls wear plain dark-colored dresses, with rather full
skirts, the children's as long as their mothers'. White kerchiefs,
capes, and hoods, of dark colors with bright scarlet or gray-blue
linings. The hoods are large and loose, with the edge turned back,
giving color about the face. Mistress Delight, Patience, and Prudence
wear white caps instead of the hoods.
Pictures of Puritan costumes are easily found in the Perry or Brown
collections.
These costumes are best made of canton or outing flannel. Buckles can
be made of cardboard and covered with silver paper, or cut from tin.
INDIAN. Suit made of tan canton flannel, fringed at edge of
coat, sleeves, and trousers, with a band of fringe up and down arms
and legs. He wears moccasins, beads, and a feather head-dress on
his black wig. He carries bow and arrows, and a wooden tomahawk. A
quiver can be made of a good-sized mailing-tube. He must have Indian
make-up.
HUNTER'S dress is more like the Indian's than like the
colonist's, but he does not wear his hair long, and his suit should
be trimmed with furs, not fringe. Fur cap with tail hanging down at
back. He carries an old gun, not a bow.
Mistress Delight's children range from Roger, twelve years old, down
to little Prudence, five. The Indian is a boy of Roger's age. The
hunter, sixteen or seventeen.
The little Christmas tree should be a very "homemade" one. Strings
of popcorn and cranberries, spools and balls covered with bright
paper, may be used for decorations, Indian baskets, and such toys
as the little Puritans might have made, or any little quaint and
old-fashioned trinkets to carry out this idea. Only white candles
should be used, and these fastened on in the simplest and most
unobtrusive manner.
The singing of the old psalm should be made as doleful and droning,
even nasal, as possible. It can be sung to the Scotch tune of
"Windsor," which is to be found in most hymn-books. The number of
verses used may be determined by the amusement and applause of the
audience. The boys who sing it must on no account allow themselves to
laugh.
The charm and picturesqueness of the stage will be greatly enhanced
if quaint old-time household articles can be borrowed or manufactured
for properties--bellows, lantern, candlesticks, andirons, an old
foot-stove--above all, a warming-pan, which the mother fills at the
fire and carries out when she takes the younger children to bed.
The dishes and platter so much admired by Patience should be rather
conspicuously ugly.
Finally, a word in regard to the old-time English. When the play
was first given it was feared that the children would find it a
stumbling-block, and that it would have to be dropped. Quite the
reverse proved to be the case, however, and the children all gave
their lines with delightful naturalness and evident enjoyment. This
has been equally true of other groups of children by whom the play
has since been given. They show no awkwardness in the use of the old
forms, but seem to feel that it carries them out of the everyday, and
makes danger and adventure real to them.
THE CHRISTMAS MONKS
IN THREE ACTS
CHARACTERS
THE ABBOT }
FATHER ANSELMUS }
FATHER GREGORY }
FATHER AMBROSE, the Leech } The Brethren of
FATHER SEBASTIAN } the Convent.
FATHER FELIX }
FATHER HILARION, in charge of the comic toys }
THE PRINCE.
COURTIER.
COURT LADY.
GEOFFREY, 1st Page.
HUMPHREY, 2nd Page.
PETER }
ROSALIA, Peter's Little Sister }
GILBERT, the Carpenter's Apprentice }
ROBIN, the Forester's son } Village children.
WALTER, the Miller's boy }
ANNETTA }
MARIANNA }
MISTRESS SPINNING }
PEGGY SPINNING } Village mother and child.
MISTRESS LONGLANE }
DOLLY LONGLANE } From a distant village.
PETER'S FATHER.
PETER'S MOTHER.
[Illustration: THE PRINCE]
[Illustration: PETER AND THE PRINCE]
THE CHRISTMAS MONKS
From a story by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman.[26]
[Footnote 26: By permission of Mrs. Freeman and of Lothrop, Lee &
Shepard Company.]
ACT I
TIME: _The 10th of April._
SCENE: _Country road leading by the Convent. R., an angle of the
Convent Wall. On it a large sign trimmed with evergreens, "Wanted,
by the Christmas Monks, two good boys to assist in garden work.
Applicants will be examined by_ FATHERS ANSELMUS _and_ GREGORY, _on
April 8th, 9th, and 10th." Enter (R.)_ MISTRESS LONGLANE _and_ DOLLY,
_wearily, as if at the end of a long journey._ MISTRESS LONGLANE
_carries a large basket._ DOLLY _hangs back._
MISTRESS LONGLANE [_rather crossly_]. Now, Dolly Longlane,
what with your stopping to gather flowers by the roadside, or to
watch the clouds, or to listen to the birds in the hedges, we'll
never reach our journey's end. Make haste, now!
DOLLY [_tearfully_]. But, Mother, it's such a long, long
way, and I'm _so_ tired.
MISTRESS LONGLANE [_relenting_]. So you are, poor lamb.
Well, a few moments can't make a very great difference, so sit ye
down on the basket and take a rest. [_Puts basket down (L.), and
seats_ DOLLY _on it, wipes her own face, straightens her
bonnet, and then looks about her. Sees sign, at which she glances
indifferently, then with interest, at last with amazement. Reads
through, then takes out spectacles and reads again._]
MISTRESS LONGLANE. Now, what may be the meaning of _this_?
DOLLY. What is it, Mother?
MISTRESS LONGLANE [_reads sign to_ DOLLY]. The
Christmas Monks? What manner of men are the Christmas Monks? Here
comes some good dame from the village. I'll make bold to ask.
[_Enter_ MISTRESS SPINNING, _with little_
PEGGY _(L.)._
MISTRESS LONGLANE [_courtesying_]. Good morrow, Mistress.
Have you a moment to spare for a stranger in the country?
MISTRESS SPINNING [_courtesying_]. Yes, indeed, Mistress,
and right gladly. Make your manners, Peggy.
[PEGGY _courtesies first to_ MISTRESS LONGLANE
_and then to_ DOLLY, _who rises from
the basket and courtesies, too._
MISTRESS LONGLANE. Why, Mistress, I am minded to ask the
meaning of this strange sign that hangs upon the wall.
MISTRESS SPINNING. Oh, you must indeed be a stranger in the
land if you have never heard of the Christmas Monks. If you have come
to make your home in our village, you'll soon learn, I'll warrant me,
that this is the home of the Christmas Monks who keep the gardens in
which all the Christmas toys are grown.
MISTRESS LONGLANE. The Christmas toys!
DOLLY. Why, I thought Santa Claus brought them all.
MISTRESS SPINNING. So he does, my dear. He takes them to the
children, of course, but this is the garden where he comes to load
his sleigh.
MISTRESS LONGLANE. You don't say!
PEGGY [_shaking her finger_]. You never can see inside, but
that garden is just full of toys. Oh, don't you wish we could peep
in! [_Both children run in search of holes or cracks, stretch their
arms towards the top, and stand on tiptoe, vainly, finally coming
back to listen to the conversation of their mothers._]
MISTRESS SPINNING. Yes, the Christmas Monks have a wonderful
garden with beds for rocking-horses, beds for dolls, beds for drums,
and picture-books and skates and balls. They do say so, that is;
of course, I've never seen the inside. And the seeds are just the
tiniest bits of dolls and drums and balls, and the rest of it. So
little that you can hardly see them at all.
MISTRESS LONGLANE. What do the Monks do?
MISTRESS SPINNING. Why, they plant the seeds, and take care
of the garden, and see that the toys are all ripe and ready for good
old Santa Claus by Christmas time.
PEGGY. And that's not all, Mother. They have turkey and plum
pudding _every_ day in the year! [_Hugs herself._]
DOLLY. Oh, my!
PEGGY. And it says "Merry Christmas" over the gate.
MISTRESS SPINNING. Yes, and every morning they file into
the chapel and sing a Christmas carol, and every evening they ring a
Christmas chime.
PEGGY. And they have wax candles in all the windows every
night.
MISTRESS LONGLANE. Why, it's like Christmas every day in the
year!
DOLLY. Aren't you glad we've come to live in this village,
Mother? [_Clasps her hands._]
MISTRESS LONGLANE. That I am, my dear. Why, it's enough to
make one laugh just to hear of it.
MISTRESS SPINNING. That it is, Mistress. You're quite right.
The Christmas Monks are so full of the Christmas spirit that it lasts
them all the year round, and they just go about putting heart into
them that get sad and discouraged. But I think I see some of the
children coming for the examination.
MISTRESS LONGLANE. Ah! Yes. That's to take place this
afternoon?
MISTRESS SPINNING. Yes, this is the last afternoon of it.
The good Fathers have already held two examinations and, will you
believe it? [_Coming closer and speaking very impressively._] They
haven't found two boys who are good enough yet, though they've
examined _hundreds_.
[_Enter_ ANNETTA _and_ MARIANNA, _talking together._
ANNETTA. Oh, Marianna, don't you wonder whom the good
Fathers will choose?
MARIANNA. Yes, indeed, I do, Annetta. Why, there aren't very
many more boys to examine.
ANNETTA. No, nearly all the boys in the kingdom have tried.
MARIANNA. But they're all naughty in some way or other.
ANNETTA. Oh, don't you wish it was two _girls_ the Fathers
wanted?
MARIANNA. Oh, don't I! Ssh! Here comes Peter with his little
sister Rosalia.
[_Enter_ PETER _and_ ROSALIA.
PETER. Here are some flowers I picked for you, sister.
ROSALIA. Thank you, Peter.
PETER. See, sister, that's the sign, and the Monks come
right here to examine the boys.
ROSALIA. Oh, Peter, I wish they'd take you to work in the
Christmas garden!
PETER. There isn't much chance of that, I'm afraid. But,
come, sister, I'd better take you home. You might get hurt in the
crowd. [_Exit (L.)_, PETER _bowing politely as he passes the
women._]
ANNETTA. Marianna, why wouldn't Peter try?
MARIANNA. He's going to try to-day, I believe. He wouldn't
before because he is so modest.
ANNETTA. But he's the very best boy in the village, and so
good to his parents and his little lame sister!
[_Enter_ GILBERT, ROBIN, _and_ WALTER; _all
stand, hands in pockets, before the sign, and
read it in silence._
GILBERT. I wish we had been examined yesterday. I hate not
to know about it.
ROBIN. Well, perhaps we'll have a better chance to-day.
WALTER. Yes, there aren't so many of us to choose from.
GILBERT. I suppose the boys that get in there can have all
the tops and balls they want.
ROBIN. Every day in the year.
WALTER. Why, all you'd have to do would be to pick them!
MISTRESS LONGLANE [_looking out L._]. Why, what's this
coming down the road?
MISTRESS SPINNING. Why, mercy on us, 'tis the Prince. He
must be coming to try the examination.
CHILDREN [_in hushed voices, crowding to see, peeping over
each other's shoulders_]. The Prince! The Prince! The Prince!
[_Enter_ COURTIER.
COURTIER [_with an impatient gesture_]. Ssh--ssh--ssh! Out
of the way there! Make way for his Royal Highness!
[_Stands aside, bowing. Enter_ PRINCE, _his
cloak held by two pages, followed by the_
COURT LADY, _by whom the_ COURTIER
_takes his place. Villagers fall back, courtesying
and bowing._ PRINCE _stands with
folded arms and haughty air reading sign
and looking about him. Pause._
PRINCE. Well, I see no Monks. Am I to be kept waiting here
all day?
COURTIER [_bowing low_]. Your Highness, the hour set has not
yet----
PRINCE [_interrupting angrily_]. I say I will not be kept
waiting. What will my father the king say when he hears I have been
kept standing in the highway with a rabble of common peasant children?
COURT LADY. Oh, your Highness, condescend to have a little
patience!
PRINCE [_more angrily_]. I will _not_ have patience.
Patience is not a virtue for Kings and Princes. [_Taps his foot on
the ground._]
COURT LADY [_nervously looking up the road_]. Oh, but think
of something else--think of--think what a pleasant day it is!
PRINCE [_scowling prodigiously_]. Pleasant day, indeed!
COURTIER. Here they come, your Highness!
COURT LADY [_full of relief_]. Oh, yes! Here they come. Here
they come!
[_Enter_ FATHERS ANSELMUS _and_ GREGORY
_(R.), followed by_ SEBASTIAN _and_ FELIX;
_at same time enter_ PETER _(L.). Monks
walk with hands clasped before them. Villagers
all doff caps, bow, and courtesy.
Even the_ PRINCE _is awed into respect. The
Fathers look about smilingly._
GREGORY. Well, well, Brother Anselmus, there seems quite a
goodly number awaiting us to-day.
ANSELM [_rubbing his hands_]. Yes, Brother Gregory. I trust
we shall discover the right boys at last. Let me see. [_Looks about,
aside._] I suppose we should examine his Royal Highness first?
GREGORY. Truly, my Brother. Let us commit no breach of
etiquette.
ANSELM. Your Highness! [_Monks bow very slightly._
PRINCE _and attendants advance a little._] How old are you?
COURTIER [_haughtily_]. His Royal Highness has just
completed his eleventh year.
GREGORY. Indeed! And is he a good boy, as boys go?
COURT LADY. "As boys go," indeed! Why, his Royal Highness is
not to be mentioned in the same day with common boys!
ANSELM. Oh! Then you are not like other boys?
COURTIER _and_ COURT LADY [_bowing to_
PRINCE]. A wonderful child, your worships!
GREGORY. Then he doesn't often do anything wrong?
COURTIER. Wrong? Oh, _never_, your worship!
COURT LADY. He never did a wrong thing in all his sweet
life. [_Clasps hands and casts up her eyes._]
ANSELM. Is he diligent? What about his lessons?
COURTIER. He doesn't _need_ to study.
COURT LADY. A most brilliant intellect!
GREGORY. Well, well, well, Anselmus, I think we must try
this paragon. [_They put their heads together._]
GEOFFREY, 1ST PAGE. He just smashes his toys!
HUMPHREY, 2ND PAGE. And he beats his dogs!
COURTIER _and_ COURT LADY. Horrors! [_They turn and
each boxes the ear of the nearest page._]
GEOFFREY. And when he's angry he kicks and screams!
HUMPHREY. And he won't mind even the King, his father!
[COURTIER _and_ COURT LADY _each clap a hand
over a Page's mouth._
COURTIER [_aside to_ LADY]. Such disrespect!
COURT LADY [_aside to_ COURTIER]. Such indiscretion!
ANSELM. Your Royal Highness is accepted. Now, Brother
Gregory, we will continue the examination. First boy!
[_The_ PRINCE _and his train fall back slightly._
GILBERT _steps forward._
GREGORY. Your name?
GILBERT. Gilbert, the Carpenter's apprentice.
ANSELM. Are you a good boy?
GILBERT [_doubtfully_]. I guess so, sir.
GREGORY. Do you always speak the truth, Gilbert?
GILBERT [_stammering_]. W-w-w-well, nearly always.
ANSELM. Tut-tut-tut! That won't do at all. _Always_ speak
the truth, my boy. I am afraid we can't take you. Next.
[GILBERT _steps back, hanging his head._ ROBIN
_comes forward._
GREGORY. Name?
ROBIN [_in a small, frightened voice_]. Robin, the
Forester's son.
ANSELM. Don't be afraid, Robin. So you are the Forester's
son. Ah-h! Hum, hum-m-m! Are you kind to animals, Robin?
ROBIN. Oh, yes, sir. My father teaches me to be good to them
always.
[GREGORY _bends over and whispers to_ ANSELM.
ANSELM. Robin, answer me truthfully. Did you ever rob a
bird's nest?
[ROBIN _hangs his head and works his toes
about._
ANSELM. Did you do this?
ROBIN [_rubbing his eyes_]. Yes, Father, I did.
GREGORY. Too bad, too bad. Now I _am_ sorry to hear this.
ANSELM. So am I, Gregory, but you see it won't do!
[ROBIN _goes to stand by_ GILBERT, _still rubbing
his eyes._
GREGORY. Next boy. [WALTER _steps forward._] Name?
WALTER. I am Walter, the Miller's boy, and I help my father
in the mill.
ANSELM. That is right, Walter; we approve of that.
GREGORY. You are diligent in the mill. How about lessons?
WALTER. Well--I go to school----
ANSELM. Are you at the head of your class?
WALTER. N-n-n-no, sir.
ANSELM. Second, then?
WALTER. N-n-no, sir.
GREGORY. Well, well, where are you, then? At the foot?
WALTER. Y-y-yes, sir.
ANSELM. Tut-tut! [_Shakes his head._] What a pity! Are there
any more boys, Gregory?
[WALTER _crooks his elbow over his eyes and
stands by_ ROBIN.
GREGORY. One boy, Brother Anselmus.
ANSELM. Ah! yes. I have seen this boy before, I think. Isn't
this boy named Peter?
PETER. Yes, sir.
MISTRESS SPINNING [_coming suddenly forward and
courtesying_]. And a better boy never lived, your reverence, if
you'll excuse me for mentioning it.
ANSELMUS. Certainly, Dame, certainly. We shall be very glad
to hear what you know about Peter.
MISTRESS SPINNING. It's just this I know, sir. He's a good,
hard-working, honest boy, sir, and very obedient to his parents.
PEGGY. He takes good care of his little sister----
MARIANNA. And he never teases little girls----
ANNETTA. And he's at the head of his class in school----
GILBERT. And the teacher likes him----
ROBIN. So do all the boys----
WALTER. So does everybody in town!
GREGORY. Well, well, Brother Anselmus, it does seem as if we
had found a good boy at last, doesn't it?
ANSELM. Yes, Brother Gregory, this is surely the right boy
for us. And now that Peter and the Prince are accepted, let us return
to our Convent and resume our exercises there. Come, boys.
[_Children all clap loudly. Monks form a procession_,
PETER _falls in behind, and the_
PRINCE _gives his hand haughtily to be
kissed by his attendants, then struts after.
Exeunt, the Monks chanting._
CURTAIN