MIKE. Tired, is it?--yez must be dead!

HARRY. Poor kids!

DUTCH. Und ve all leafin' der kinder shtandin'. Here--der

box seats ain'd all sold yet. [_Brings box and seats them kindly._]

BEN [_kneeling before them_]. Why--dey shoes is all bust

out----

JERRY. The poor kids ought to be in bed.

TIM. Did you have any supper?

JACK. When did you say you started?

BUB. Right after dinner, an' we thought we could get here

for the show to-night, but, you see, Sonny couldn't walk very fast----

SONNY [_sets up a howl, gives_ BUB _a punch that

nearly knocks him off the box, and rubs his eyes harder than ever_].

I did, too, now, Bub! I walked an' I walked an' I walked, so I did!

An' I want my supper, I do, an' I want to go to bed!

JERRY. Hustle off, Dutch, and get the poor kid some grub----

[_Exit_ DUTCH _in haste._

BARNEY. Sure an' one of them can bunk with me.

JACK. I'll take the other in my bunk.

MIKE. If it's blankets they're wantin' they're welcome to

mine.

BEN. Dey's lots ob blankets, gen'lemen! I'll fix 'em a place

tergedder as sof' as a fedder-bed!

[PEPPER _comes forward._

HARRY [_under his breath_]. 'Ere's the h'old h'ogre wot'll

scare 'em to death.

PEPPER [_with unexpected amiability_]. That's right, Ben,

make 'em up a good bed in the sleeping-tent with the extra blankets.

What do you fellows suppose their marm's thinking, about now? [_Exit_

BEN.] You kids, did you say you _ran away_?

BUB [_a little frightened_]. Ye-es, sir--we couldn't help

it. You see--our folks is _strict_. They never went to circuses, and

they don't let their boys go.

PEPPER. Well, has your folks got a telephone?--most

farmers've got 'em these days.

BUB _and_ SONNY. Yes, sir----

PEPPER [_giving_ TIM _money_]. Here, Tim, you run

out and telephone to---- Simpson, is it?

BUB. Yes, sir,--Jonathan Simpson.

PEPPER. And tell him his kids are safe, and we'll take care

of 'em all right. [TIM _starts out._] And, Tim---- [_Follows

him and speaks aside._] Fix it up with him to let 'em stay to the

afternoon show.

[PEPPER _lingers with_ TIM _at tent door.

Troupe overcome with surprise._

BARNEY. Will yez all hark to that!

HARRY. I didn't think 'as 'ow 'e 'ad h'it h'in 'im!

OTHERS. No!

[_Enter_ DUTCH _with thick sandwiches, which

the boys munch eagerly._ PEPPER _comes

forward and watches._

DUTCH. So! Das ist besser.

BEN. How'd dat chile's sho't legs ebber do ten mile, anyhow?

JERRY. Pretty sandy, that!

PEPPER. What did you boys run away for on Christmas

Eve--weren't you afraid of missing your presents and the Christmas

Tree?

BUB [_between bites_]. Presents? We don't get none!

SONNY. I never saw a Christmas Tree. [_He grows very sleepy and leans

his head against_ BUB, _who keeps moving and letting it slip off

while talking with the men._]

DUTCH [_horrified_]. You don't effer hafe no Christmas?

BUB. No. I told you our folks is _strict_. My dad didn't let

us go to the Christmas Tree they had at the Sunday-school, neither.

PEPPER. I didn't suppose that kind of strictness was left in

the country.

BUB [_with conviction_]. My dad's that kind of strict.

BEN. Dat po' chile's mos' ersleep now. Come on, honey.

Ben'll take you to bed. [_Lifts_ SONNY _in his arms._]

PEPPER. That's right, Ben. Run on with him, Bub--Ben'll

take care of you. [_Exit_ BEN, _with children. Enter_

TIM.] Well, Tim, did you get Simpson?

TIM. Yes, sir, and he says he'll come and fetch the kids in

the morning--he won't on no account let them stay to see the show.

[_General groan of indignation._

BARNEY. The like of him ain't fit to live!

HARRY [_disgusted_]. Wot sort of chap do you call that!

JERRY. Can't we do nothin' about it?

PEPPER. Sure you did your best, Tim?--you didn't make him

mad, maybe?

TIM. _Me?_ No, sir! But he was madder about the kids than he

was scared about them, I reckon.

MIKE. An' does he think he desarves to get thim back, I'd

like to know? Let's kape thim ourselves!

JACK. We need a couple of kids in the show. That Bub's a

sharp one!

PEPPER. No, fellows--that won't do. Perhaps the mother's a

different kind.

[_Enter_ BEN, _speaks to_ MIKE. _The rest listen._

BEN. Dey's jus' wore out, dose chillen--done fall ersleep

'fo' I got de blanket over dem.

JERRY. I tell you what, fellows. That old flub of a farmer

won't get in very early--let's give 'em a show all to themselves.

What say?

JACK. Bully scheme!

MIKE. That's classy, that is!

HARRY [_aside to_ JERRY]. S'pose the boss'll let us

do a stunt like that? Not on yer life!

PEPPER. Very good idea, Barney. You'll have all morning for

it, sure.

[_Troupe surprised and delighted. General

hum of pleasure._

PEPPER [_clearing his throat and hesitating a little_].

Oh--a--a--I was going to say--these kids seem to have rather a slow

time of it. What do you fellows say we do it up brown--go the whole

figure and--well, a little Christmas won't hurt us, either. Let's

give them a Christmas Tree. I'll set up the fixin's for it!

[_An instant's pause of utter amazement, then

a hubbub of enthusiasm and approval, interrupted

by_ BEN.

BEN [_coming forward, raps on the mess-table and raises his

voice_]. Gen'lemen! I'd like to offer de resolution dat we all gib

t'ree cheers fo' Mr. Pepper!

[_Cheers given with a will._

CURTAIN

ACT II

TIME: _Christmas morning._

SCENE: _Same as Act I. During first part of scene, the troupe, all

but_ PEPPER _and_ TIM, _are very busy arranging tent for their

special performance._ BARNEY _and_ DUTCH _move mess-table to [R.],

cover it with red cloth, and set two boxes upon it as seats for the

guests of honor._ BEN _and_ JERRY _bring in a gymnasium mattress and

a small low platform, which they arrange [Center], covering it with a

bright-colored cloth._ HARRY, JACK, _and_ MIKE _set soap-boxes with

boards for seats at back of stage._

BARNEY. Did yez iver see annything loike the change in the

Boss?

BEN. I jes' lay awake half de night studyin' 'bout it.

JERRY. I tell you, he's just treatin' those two kids white,

he is.

JACK. First time ever, for _him_.

MIKE. I'm just shtruck doomb, I am. Says I to meself, says

I, "There's magic in ut."

DUTCH. Nein,--it's dot little Christmas Tree vot doos ut.

HARRY. Well, h'anyway, 'e's h'evidently 'ad a change of

'eart. 'Ow's the kids this morning?

BEN. Fine as silk! I war expectin' to fin' 'em all tuckered

out, but not a bit of it, sir! Dey's sharp as persimmons. Don' seem

lak dey could a-walked all dat way widout no lift.

BARNEY. Did yez tell them about the show, thin?

DUTCH. Ve did, und dey're so oxzited dot it seem like dey'd

shump out o' deir shkins.

JERRY. Have they heard of the tree?

BEN. No. Mr. Pepper, he say, don' let on--keep dat fer er

s'prise.

DUTCH. Und since deir folks iss such heathens--dey ain'd

t'inkin' 'bout noddings like dot.

JACK. Hustle up--you talk too much. The kids' folks'll be

here after them if you don't get a move on.

MIKE [_gazing with pride at the result of their labors_].

It's a foine soight, sure.

HARRY [_leading the way to the tent door_]. Come along,

fellows--it looks to me as 'ow we're ready. 'Oo'll be the 'erald an'

tell 'em we're comin'?

[_Exeunt all but_ DUTCH.

DUTCH [_goes to footlights and speaks to the piano_]. If der bant

vill blees be so kint und blay a chune fer der grant marsh! [_Exit.

After a moment enter_ DUTCH _and_ BEN _with the children_, SONNY

_hanging to_ BEN'S _hand and dancing with excitement. They are lifted

into place._]

BEN. Now, den, honey, you-all's gwine to see der circus,

sho' 'nuff.

DUTCH. So! Is you gomf'table?

[_Exeunt_ BEN _and_ DUTCH.

BUB. Oh, Sonny, we're goin' to have a circus all to

ourselves.

SONNY. It's better than just comin' in like other folks,

isn't it, Bub?

BUB. Oh, lots! I guess it's a sure enough Christmas,

too, Sonny. [_He rocks to and fro with delight. The piano plays a

gay, quick march, and the Circus enters, in procession, headed

by_ PEPPER _himself and ending with the dog. They march

several times around the stage, then take seats on the boards._

DUTCH _suddenly catches up his tray, and goes about shouting

his wares, with a great air of being very busy._]

DUTCH. Beanuts! Beanuts! Here's your fresh-roasted beanuts!

Bop-corn! Bop-corn und beanuts!

JACK. How do you sell 'em, Dutch?

DUTCH [_incensed_]. You tink I vould _sell_ dem on

_Christmas_? Vot you take me for, hein? Haf some--it's a bresunt.

[_Passes them about, and then takes up his stand (R. front) just

behind the boys._ PEPPER _steps forward and stands beside

the platform. Makes a fine sweeping bow to the boys._]

PEPPER [_with his best professional manner_], Mr. Benjamin

Franklin Simpson and Mr. Daniel Webster Simpson, we have the great

honor to make you welcome to the most world-renowned, the most

marvelous single-ring circus upon the face of this Terrestrial

Globe--Pepper's Perennial Circus, so named because it never folds

its tents from season's end to season's end. I, Gentlemen, am Peter

Piper Pepper, the fortunate proprietor of this colossal assemblage

of artists. The members of my Company have desired the honor of

being presented to you personally before they exhibit to you their

unparalleled skill. It gratifies me exceedingly to comply with this

wish. [_Steps to side of platform and motions to troupe. As he calls

them by name they step forward and bow, with flourishes._] Gentlemen,

allow me to present to you the distinguished, the glorious Signor

Frencelli, and Signor Cocodilla, who have charmed the crowned heads

of Europe. [_The clowns come forward and bow._]

DUTCH [_sotto voce to the boys_]. Deir names is Barney

O'Brien und Jerry Pickle, but dot vouldn't do for der bosters.

[_Clowns sit down._]

PEPPER. Gentlemen, you see before you the world-renowned

Marco Brothers, known from the frozen North to the sunny South, for

their skill and ability in acrobatic feats. One of them also is a

famous bareback rider and performer of feats of equestrian valor. He

has a further talent of which you will be given an example a little

later.

[HOPKINS _and_ LIMBER JACK _make their bows._

DUTCH. Dot's Harry Hopkins, und de big feller is Limber

Jack. Dey yust bass for brudders.

PEPPER. Now, Gentlemen, our show has the distinction of

possessing the great Mr. Barlow, the only native African minstrel

upon any stage. Mr. Barlow is a prince in his own country, and indeed

we esteem him a prince in whatever sphere he may adorn.

DUTCH. Dot's Ben Chackson, und he ain't crossed no vater

vider dan der riffer. [_Makes a face._] But ve makes it up to der

peoples vat pays for der seats.

PEPPER. And now, Gentlemen, last, but not least we have the

noted, the justly celebrated Professor Wormwood, whose successful

methods of training the dog and the monkey until they are rendered

all but human, have been copied the world over. Professor Wormwood,

with his dog, Schneider, and his South American monkey, Jocko.

[MIKE _steps upon the stage with the dog and

monkey, makes his bow, and admonishes

them to do the same._

DUTCH. Dot's Mike McGinnis.

BUB. Have the dog and the monkey got some other names, too?

DUTCH. No,--dey don' need dem.

PEPPER. Gentlemen, our little entertainment is now about

to begin. Professor Wormwood will give an exhibition of his clever

animals.

[_As each is called upon to do some little

"stunt," he bows elaborately, and does

whatever he has to do with a great deal of

professional air, then returns to his place,

as before. The little boys, after_ DUTCH'S

_suggestion, applaud vigorously, and the

rest of the troupe look on at each other's

"acts" with condescending approval.

These are given in the following order._

1. Professor Wormwood and his animals.

2. Frencelli and Cocodilla in juggling feats.

3. Mr. Barlow, the minstrel, in a darkey story.

4. Limber Jack in acrobatic exercises.

5. Marco Brothers, Indian clubs.

6. Harry Hopkins (a) gives an exhibition of bareback riding.

(b) as Mademoiselle Zarah, dances.

7. Song. Mademoiselle Zarah and Troupe.

[MIKE _puts the animals through a number of

tricks._

DUTCH [_to the boys_]. Abplaud! Abplaud!

BUB [_puzzled_]. What?

DUTCH [_clapping hands_]. Abplaud! Dey mus' have abplowse!

[_While the animals are performing, the

canvas parts (R. front). Enter_ FARMER

SIMPSON, _unnoticed by anyone save_

DUTCH, _who watches him at first uncomprehendingly,

then with suspicion. The

farmer looks about in horror, craning his

neck to see all that is going on. Shakes

his fist at the Ringmaster, sees the children,

and makes as if to grab them._ DUTCH

_interposes his body with determination._

DUTCH [_sotto voce, but decidedly_]. Vot you t'ink you

do--hein?

FARMER. You gi'me those children!

DUTCH. You vaits. You don' gotta take 'em yet.

FARMER. They're mine and I've come to git 'em.

DUTCH. You is deir vater, hein? All right; you vaits.

Shoost sit down und look at der show. [_Shoves him down forcibly

on a convenient box or keg, then carefully stands between him and

the boys. Children shout and applaud the animals. Farmer watches at

intervals, and during each turn he rises as if to protest, and is

emphatically set down by_ DUTCH. _His resistance is more and

more feeble each time, and his interest in the performers visibly

increases, until at the end he actually stands looking open-mouthed

over_ DUTCH'S _shoulder, even betrayed into applause. When

he catches himself clapping, however, he stops short and clasps his

hands behind his back._ PROFESSOR WORMWOOD _finally bows

himself off._]

PETER. I have the honor to announce Signor Frencelli and

Signor Cocodilla in their great act.

[_Clowns come forward and bow, do juggling

tricks, etc. Same business for the rest._

SONNY. Oh, Bub, I think our dad would like this, don't you?

BUB. I reckon he would, if he'd just ever come and see it.

[_Clowns bow themselves off._

PETER. Gentlemen, the famous Mr. Barlow will now entertain

you.

[_Minstrel tells a darkey story._

BUB. Don't you wish he'd come and live at the farm, Sonny?

SONNY. Yes, I do. S'pose he would?

[_Minstrel bows and sits down. All applaud._

PETER. Now, Gentlemen, one of the Marco Brothers will show

his marvelous strength and agility.

[LIMBER JACK _turns flip-flaps, etc. Presently_

HARRY _steps forward and they swing Indian

clubs, gayly decorated, to music.

Then_ LIMBER JACK _takes his seat, and_

HOPKINS _takes the stage alone._

HARRY. Yer honors, I 'eartily regret that I cannot this

morning give a h'exhibition of my famous bareback riding h'exploits,

h'owing to the fact of our 'orses being h'otherwise h'occupied----

[_confidentially_] a-h'eating their h'oats, ye know. But, h'anyway, I

can make the h'attempt to show you 'ow it is done, with a h'imaginary

'orse. 'Ere, Mr. h'O'Brien, will you kindly h'assist me?

[BARNEY _brings a chair without a back, and_

HARRY, _after pretending to quiet a mettlesome

steed, mounts, and goes through all

the motions of dashing about the ring bareback.

He wears an intensely serious look,

fixing his eyes as it were upon the horse's

ears, cheering him on, leaping off and on,

standing lightly on one toe, etc. The

Ringmaster watches and cracks his whip,

the music plays a light and quick air, the

whole troupe rise and watch breathlessly,

bending in time to the music as if in time

to a galloping horse._ JERRY _comes forward

with a wand, and_ HARRY _leaps over

it. Then_ BARNEY _brings a hoop, wound

in gay colors, or covered with tissue paper,

and_ HARRY _springs through it. This is

his culminating feat, and now the horse

apparently slows down and stops_, HARRY

_leaping off and making a low bow toward

the seats of honor._

BUB [_applauding wildly_]. Why, I could almost see the horse!

[HARRY _retires to back of stage, and makes

a quick change in full view of the audience,

to a ballet skirt and a yellow wig.

The clowns assist him to dress, hooking

him up behind, and holding a mirror for

the proper adjustment of the wig, etc._

PETER. Gentlemen, having shown you his prowess as a bareback

rider, Signor Marco will now be introduced to you in a new light.

Our traveling arrangements being somewhat--ahem!--circumscribed, we

have never been able to carry any of the fair sex with us upon our

tours. Believe me, Gentlemen, such is the surpassing genius of Signor

Marco that we have never felt the need of ladies, as I am sure you

will agree. [HARRY _now comes forward with mincing steps and

a coy smile._] Gentlemen, allow me to present to you the celebrated

artist, the far-famed and charming Mademoiselle Zarah! [_The troupe

all bow with great enthusiasm to the transformed_ HARRY,

_who courtesies and smiles with all professional airs and graces.

The music strikes up, and_ ZARAH _dances. When the dance is

ended_, ZARAH _bows again, and goes through the motions of

catching bouquets from the troupe or audience._]

PETER. Mademoiselle Zarah, assisted by the whole troupe,

will now favor us with a song.

[_Popular song, adapted to the occasion by the

use of Christmas words. The boys applaud

long and loudly; the troupe, after

making a general farewell bow, break ranks

and gather around them._ JERRY _and_

BARNEY _remove platform._

SONNY. I'd like to go to a circus every day.

BUB. Don't I wish I could! Well, it's a fine Christmas

present, anyway.

PETER. Did you like it?

BUB _and_ SONNY. Oh, _did_ we!

BUB. It was just right!

PETER. Can you think of anything that would be an

improvement--for a Christmas celebration, you know?

BUB [_embarrassed_]. Well, Mr. Pepper--you see--we've always

heard the other children telling about Christmas--and Christmas

Trees--and we did wish we could see one. This is next best, you

know--but we did wish we could see a tree.

PEPPER [_nods to clowns_]. Well,--I'm not Herman--nor yet

old Santa Claus, but I guess I can do _this_ trick. [_Waves his whip,

and the two clowns suddenly throw back the canvas (back Center) and

disclose a small tree, lighted and raised high, framed by the sides

of the tent._]

BUB [_claps his hands_]. Oh, is _that_ what a Christmas Tree

looks like!

SONNY. Oh, Bub, let's go and see it. [_They slip down from

their places and slowly approach the tree. Farmer makes as if to

seize them._]

DUTCH [_catching his arm_]. No, sir,--you vaits shtill

longer a leetle bit!

SONNY. Oh, Bub, look at all the pretty shiny things.

BUB. And candy, Sonny, and toys, and the star on top! [_The

men fairly swell with pride._]

BARNEY. Sure it's the best I iver did see, for a small one.

JERRY. Makes me feel like a kid myself--we always had 'em

every year.

MIKE. It joost warms the very cockles of me heart.

HARRY. I'd 'ave you look at their faces--they're 'appy, all

right. It 'as the circus beat h'all 'ollow for them.

JACK. Between the two, they'll not forget _this_ Christmas!

BEN [_leaning over the children_]. Look at all dem C'ris'mas

gif's, honey! Dey's every las' one fer you.

BUB [_disappointed_]. Not anything for anybody else?

SONNY. Not nothing for Ben? I likes Ben!

BUB. And Dutch, and everybody? [_The men are confused at

this turn of affairs._] Only for us? Why, we thought Christmas trees

were for everybody. And they've all been so good to us!

PETER [_throwing himself into the breach_]. No, that's a big

mistake, boys! There _is_ something on that tree for them--something

that says every man in this here show gets a whole week's wages for a

Christmas present, and then he can get what he wants most!

[_A moment's silence, then there is a great

clapping of hands, and slapping of each

other's shoulders, and all press forward

and shake hands gratefully with_ PETER.

DUTCH [_to Farmer_]. Vot I tells you? No maitter how shtrict

you goes for to be [_slowly, and with emphasis_], you cain't kills

Christmas! Yust look at der liddle tree! Laist night ve all vas reddy

to cut somebody's t'roat, und dis mornin'--Bresto! Shangch!--ve're de

pest frien's efer. It's der Kinder, und der Tree, und Christmas! I

tells you, der ain'd noddings like Christmas der whole vorld rount!

[_The Farmer, who has been unbending gradually,

at last nods in hearty acquiescence.

Music strikes up, and all sing "Christmas

Song."_ BUB _and_ SONNY, _unmolested,

climb up to examine the little tree._

[Music: CHRISTMAS SONG[31]]

[Footnote 31: Courtesy of Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Company.]

FRANK E. SAVILE.

1. The Christmas chimes are ringing out,

Across the valleys sounding clear,

And as the echoes float about,

Tell of peace and Christmas cheer,

With joyous voices bless the day,

And with sounds of merry cheer,

Let us all keep holiday

For Christmas comes but once a year.

2. Old Christmas comes with merry train,

Bringing joy and mirth again;

The chimes ring out the glad refrain,

"Peace on earth, good will to men."

Be many Christmas days in store,

May no sorrow soon befall;

To young and old, to rich and poor,

A merry Christmas to you all.

CURTAIN

NOTES ON COSTUME, SETTING, AND PRESENTATION

COSTUMES

PEPPER. Scarlet coat, khaki trousers, high black boots. Silk

hat. He wears a mustache, and carries a long whip with a scarlet bow.

ACROBATS. (Hopkins and Limber Jack.) Long stockings, puffed

trunks, and running-shirt, or undershirt, dyed to match. White

bathing-shoes, or "sneakers." Any colors may be used. Light blue for

Jack, and yellow for Hopkins are effective. Hopkins's ballet dress is

made of innumerable skirts of white tarletan, sewed to a low-necked

and short-sleeved waist of same material as his trunks, bespangled

with tinsel. This should be carefully put together and equipped with

buttons and button-holes, to slip on over the acrobat's clothes, so

that Hopkins's "lightning change" can really be made in the least

possible time. Woman's light yellow wig (or, if the boy is fair, a

dark wig), dressed in the extreme of style.

CLOWNS. Pierrot costumes. White with red spots, and yellow

with blue. Faces whitened with the usual red marks. Heads bald and

white. White soft Pierrot hats. They may provide themselves with

"slapsticks," and other properties incidental to their tricks and

jokes.

MINSTREL. Usual minstrel make-up. Black-face, large

collar, gaudy tie and vest. Flowered or large-checked trousers and

dress-coat.

DUTCH. Khaki hat and trousers, shirt-sleeves, velvet vest,

stuffed to make him very rotund. Should be a short, roly-poly boy. He

carries by a strap over his shoulders a tray with bags of peanuts,

rolls of popcorn, etc. (Which will probably need to be kept under

lock and key until time for its use.)

ANIMAL-TRAINER. Dress suit and silk hat. Carries a

riding-whip.

TIM. Red flannel shirt, old trousers, very old felt hat,

boots. May double with

FARMER SIMPSON. Old overcoat and straw hat. Red hair and

chin beard.

DOG _and_ MONKEY. It is best to rent these costumes

from a costumer, though, if preferred, close-fitting suits of brown

and black canton flannel, with long tails, may be made, and the heads

only, rented. Chain for monkey, leash for dog.

BUB _and_ SONNY. Overalls, sneakers, and big straw

farm hats.

SETTING

TENT. A most effective circus-tent can be made by fastening

strips of unbleached muslin above the stage-arch, and sloping them

down to a wire stretched five feet above floor at back of stage, then

dropping straight to floor. Back the entrances to the other tents

with more canvas, to represent a straight-sided passage.

THE CIRCUS PERFORMANCE

A great deal of liberty may be allowed here. This play having been

written for a boys' club, the boys were intrusted with the duty of

working up the individual "acts," which they did very successfully,

with a little oversight and revision from those in charge.

The tricks by the Dog and Monkey were seesawing, boxing with gloves,

dancing, fighting a duel, etc., etc.

The Clowns introduced an "elephant walk," a race, juggling with

balls, and other tricks.

The Minstrel collected the latest and snappiest stories he could

find, and told them with zest.

The boys' own list of acrobatic feats, which will be understood by

boys doing work in a gymnasium, was as follows:

1. Roll. Back and forth.

2. Roll and frog leap.

3. Short dive.

4. Long dive.

5. High dive.

6. High dive over man.

7. Weight-lifting.

8. Two-man dive.

9. Double roll.

10. Pyramid.

They also included turning flip-flaps, walking on the hands, swinging

clubs, etc. The Pyramid, at the end, was formed by the whole troupe,

on hands and knees, the lightest boys on top, and at a given signal

all fell flat on the mattress.

The bareback riding of Hopkins and the dance of Zarah are fully

described in the text.

MUSIC

A good two-step, rapidly played, will serve for the galloping horse,

and Zarah can adapt herself to any modern dance-music.

For this play a carol or hymn is not appropriate, but rather a jolly

song embodying the idea of "Christmas comes but once a year."

MINTY-MALVINY'S SANTA CLAUS

PLAY IN ONE ACT

CHARACTERS

HENRI LEBRETON.

ALPHONSE, his mulatto servant.

LAURA COURVOISIER, his sister.

LOUISE }

ANNETTE } Her children.

PHILIP }

MINTY-MALVINY, a pickaninny.

MINTY-MALVINY'S SANTA CLAUS

Adapted from the story in _Wide Awake_ by M.E.M. Davis.[32]

[Footnote 32: Used by courtesy of Colonel Thomas E. Davis.]

TIME: _Christmas Eve and Christmas morning._

SCENE: LEBRETON'S _room in_ MADAME

CLEMENTINE'S _handsome lodging-house in the Rue Bourbon, New

Orleans._

NOTE.--The curtain falls for a moment, during the

play, to indicate the passing of Christmas Eve and the

coming of Christmas Day.

_Curtain rises showing a comfortable room, strewn with a bachelor's

possessions. [R.] a fireplace[33] with wood fire, brass dogs, a large

armchair, and footstool on the hearth-rug. [L.], curtain indicates

an alcove with a bed. Near curtain, an old-fashioned low-boy with

toilet articles before the mirror,--military brushes, cologne, etc.,

etc. Lighted candles here, and also on each side of gilt mirror above

mantel. Shaded lamp on center table, littered with books, papers,

a box of cigars, ash-tray, etc._ LEBRETON _seated in the

easy-chair._ LAURA _leaning over the back._

[Footnote 33: See note on Fireplace, p. 313.]

LAURA [_affectionately stroking her brother's hair_]. Oh,

Henri, you can't guess how good it is to be at home again!

LEB. Oh, yes, I can! What do you suppose it has meant to me

to have you and Louis and the children wandering over the face of

the earth all these months? I've been a lost soul without you, and

your home to go to.

LAURA. Traveling's all very nice and interesting, but it

does pall! I grew tired to death of it--I just pined to come home

again, Henri. [_Sits on arm of chair._]

LEB. And here you are at last, in time to save your poor old

brother from utter desolation at Christmas time.

LAURA. Oh, but I wish the house had been ready for us--it

hardly feels like Christmas anywhere but in the dear old place. But

Louis said it wouldn't do to hurry the workmen too much.

LEB. No--they'd only make a botch of it. But you are

comfortable here, aren't you?

LAURA. Yes, indeed--you've taken such nice rooms for us,

Henri. It's just the sentiment of it, you know, and I oughtn't have

spoken. And Madame Clementine does everything to make us feel at home

and comfortable.

LEB. How about the service--are the maids attentive, Laura?

LAURA. Ask such a question about darkies just before

Christmas? Henri, you are a dear old silly! Of course they are. And

so many of them--I see a new one to provide with a "C'ris'mus gif'"

every day, I think. To-day I noticed another--not exactly a maid,

that is, but a funny little oddity of a pickaninny who seems to live

just to "fotch an' carry."

LEB. Yes, I've seen that little monkey--does she really

belong here?

LAURA. I'm not sure--I must ask Madame Clementine about

her.... Henri, if we are to make that call, I must get my things at

once.

LEB. This is so cozy--do you think you _must_ rout me out?

LAURA. Poor dear, his conscience has come home again!

[_Rises._] Yes, I think we really ought. I've been at home three

days, you know, and the Percivals are such old friends, and Helen has

been ill---- [_Goes to door._] I'll only be a moment.

LEB. [_going to ring bell_]. Very well, Madame, I'm at your

service. If you are my conscience, sis, you certainly manage to

sweeten my duty.

LAURA [_laughing_]. That's just your flattery!

[_Exit._ LEBRETON _goes to find gloves. Enter_

ALPHONSE.

ALPH. Did you ring, M'sieu Henri?

LEB. Yes. Get me my coat, Alphonse. Madame Courvoisier and I

are going out for a while. [ALPHONSE _brings coat and silk

hat, which he brushes, then helps_ LEBRETON _into coat._]

I shan't be late. [_Goes to door._] But maybe you've calls to make

yourself? [ALPHONSE _puts on a conscious smirk._] Well, you

needn't wait for me--Christmas Eve, you know. [_Exit, putting on

gloves._]

ALPH. Thanks, M'sieu Henri. [_Looks about room, sees cane,

which he catches up and hurries after_ LEBRETON.] M'sieu

Henri!

[_Exit._ MINTY-MALVINY _appears at door.

Looks cautiously after_ ALPHONSE. _Enters

and minces about._

M.-M. [_sings_].

De rabbit and de jaybird, dey fell out!

Walk jes' so!

De possum and de coon dey want ter know what erbout.

Walk jes' so!

[_Goes to window and looks out._] Hit am plumb dark! Old Santa

Claus mus' be a-hitchin' up dem plow-mules o' hisn by dis time.

My lan'! de white folks is havin' er good time, I 'low! [_Goes to

fire and sits on a stool._] Dem dolls, an' dem doll cheers, an'

dem rollin'-pins in de show-winders is mighty fine. [_Sighs, and

continues meditatively._] Pow'ful scrumptious dey was! Dass de kin'

o' C'ris'mus gif' whar ole Santa Claus gwine ter fotch ter all de

white chillen in dis yer town in de mawnin'! Santa Claus ain't got

no 'quaintance wid niggers, dat I knows on--lessen it am niggers on

de sugar-plantations;--he ain't never hearn tell o' town niggers. My

lan', whyn't de Lawd mek me white whilse He 'uz about it! Hit mus' be

jes' ez easy fer de Lawd ter mek er white chile ez er black chile!

[_Rests her head disconsolately on her knees for a moment. Suddenly,

as a great idea dawns upon her, she lifts her head and claps her

hands._] Hi! I got it! [_Springs to her feet and begins to dance a

double-shuffle with all her might, shouting._] Sho's you bawn, I'ze

gwine ter do it! I'ze gwine ter mek m'se'f er white chile! I'ze gwine

ter do it, sho'!

[_In the midst of her wild dance_, ALPHONSE

_appears in doorway, and stands transfixed

with horror._

ALPH. [_furiously_]. Bête! Wat you do here, in M'sieu Henri

LeBreton's room? Ah'm a-goin' to _keel_ you! [_He darts after, and

they dash about the room at top speed_, MINTY-MALVINY _always just

out of his reach._]

M.-M. I ain' 'fraid o' no French nigger lak you! [_She leads him a

dance, but finally rushes out at door._ ALPHONSE _recovers

his dignity, and goes to attend to fire._ MINTY-MALVINY

_appears before door again, walking up and down with mincing steps

and singing with a meaning air._]

M.-M.

De yallergater ax fer de jack-o'lantern's light,

Walk jes' so!

Fer to go ter see his gal thoo' de swamp in de night,

Walk jes' so!

[ALPHONSE _listens, rattles irons angrily, then

runs to door with poker in hand._ MINTY-MALVINY

_promptly takes to her heels._

ALPH. "Walk jes' so!" An' if you don't walk jes' so, I'll show you

how, _gamine_! [_Goes about arranging room for the night. Lays_

LEBRETON'S _dressing-gown and slippers by the fire, puts out candles

on mantel, then goes to dresser, where he pauses to admire himself._

MINTY-MALVINY _slips in, a small brown paper bag in one hand and a

very ragged stocking in the other. She hides behind the easy-chair,

but manages to keep a sharp eye on_ ALPHONSE, _with scornful mouth,

for his vanity._ ALPHONSE _struts complacently before the glass,

moistens his handkerchief with his master's cologne, puts out the

candles, goes to table, where he helps himself to the cigars, puts

out light, and exit._ MINTY-MALVINY _comes out from hiding-place,

makes sure he is really gone, and relights candles._]

M.-M. [_with deep scorn_]. Dar! I knowed dat French nigger 'u'd

steal! I gwine ter tell on him in de mawnin' de minit I get er

chance. [_Sits down on her heels before the fire, screwing up her

mouth and chuckling with glee._] Now, now, I'ze gwine ter mek myse'f

inter er white chile. [_Opens bag in which she carries a dab of

flour, with which she proceeds to powder her face as liberally as

the bag allows. Then she produces the stocking and examines it with

care._] Co'se hit's holey, but den Santa Claus kin stuff er gob

er candy er sumpn in de toe-hole, an' er bannanner, er o'ange, in

de heel-hole, and some reesins er a'mon's in de res' o' de holes.

[_She gets up to hang the stocking._] Hump! dis is sump'n lak a

chimbly, dis is! Santa Claus ain' gwine ter hu't hisse'f comin'

down a stovepipe. Some white folks is funny. [_She catches sight of

herself in the mirror above the mantel._] My lan'! Kingdom come! I

is tu'ned inter er white chile, sho'! An' ole Santa Claus gwine ter

be fooled, sho' as I is er nigger!... Now I gwine ter scrooch down

on de rug hyar an' watch. [_Settles herself comfortably._] I gwine

ter hol' my eyes open [_yawns aloud_] ontwel I see ole Santa Claus

crope down dis yer chimbly. Den I gwine ter ax him howdy, an' den I

gwine ter p'int out what I bleedge ter hev fer C'ris'mus. Ca'se I

ain' gwine ter be er white chile fer nuffin. [_This with some energy,

but she grows more and more drowsy._] I gwine ter ax fer er wax

doll lak whar in der show-winder, an' er cheer, an' er cradle----

[MINTY-MALVINY _falls asleep._]

[_After a moment, enter_ LEBRETON, _quietly.

Turns on light, goes to dresser, sets down

hat, and drawing off gloves, tosses them

into it. Crosses to fire, and sees_ MINTY-MALVINY.

_Stirs her gently with his foot._

LEB. [_not unkindly_]. Here, you little imp, get up! What

are you doing here? Who are you, anyway?

M.-M. [_springing to her feet, then falling on her knees on the

rug_]. I ax you howdy, Mister Santa Claus! I hope you's feelin'

pretty peart?

LEB. [_to himself_]. Oh, Mister Santa Claus, am I?

M.-M. [_hurriedly_]. I'ze name Mint--I'ze er white chile, Mister

Santa Claus, an' I'ze name Miss Ann. I'ze er white chile sho's you

bawn, Mister Santa Claus!

LEB. [_laughing_]. Oh, are you? And your name is Miss Ann?

M.-M. [_with assurance_]. Yes-sir. Law, Marse Santa Claus [_laughs

hysterically and rocks herself back and forth on her knees_], I'ze

mos' sho' dat I seed you clammin' down de chimbly jes' now! An' I has

been settin' up all night jes' ter ax yer howdy, an' ter ax yer ter

fotch me er gre't big wax doll lak whar in der show-winder, an' er

cheer, an' er cradle, an' some cups an' sassers wid blue on de aidge

lak whar ole Mis' had on de sugar-plantation whar me an' Mammy come

f'um. An' dat stockin' whar I is done hung up, hit am pow'ful holey,

I knows. But I ain't got no Mammy ter men' it, an' ef er gob er candy

wuz in de toe-hole, an' er o'ange in de heel-hole,--oh, Mister Santa

Claus, Marse Santa Claus, I is er white chile! Cross my heart, I

is! [_Bursts into tears, as_ LEBRETON _takes hold of the

stocking and looks it over, trying hard to restrain his laughter._]

Oh, Marse Santa Claus! [_Wails._] You is knowed all de time dat I wuz

lyin'! I ain't nuffin but er good-fer-nuffin li'l' black nigger whar

is name Minty-Malviny.

LEB. [_almost overcome with laughter_]. Now I am surprised!

M.-M. An' I ain' fitten fer ter hev no C'ris'mus gif'.

LEB. Hush! [_Takes off his light coat, pushes her down on

the rug, and throws the coat over her._] Lie down and go to sleep.

[_With mock sternness._] If you're not asleep within two minutes,

I'll---- [_His threat ends in a growl._]

[MINTY-MALVINY _sobs for a moment or two,

but quickly falls asleep, breathing deeply

and quietly._ LEBRETON _comes forward

and stands perplexed._

LEB. Well, I reckon Santa Claus will have to call for help.

Laura can't have gone to bed yet.... I'll get her. [_Exit, returning

almost at once with_ LAURA.] That's good! Come in a moment.

LAURA [_anxiously_]. Oh, Henri, what is it?

LEB. [_laughing_]. A trifle! [_Puts his hand on her

shoulder._] My pack has given out, and I'm 'bleeged to have a big wax

doll, like whar in de show-winder, and a cheer, and some dishes, lak

ole Miss's on de plantation; and all for a 'spectable young cullud

pusson named Minty-Malviny!

LAURA [_mystified_]. Henri! I don't understand.

LEB. No, but you will in a moment. See what I found when

I came in. [_Leads her over to rug, lifts corner of coat, and

discloses_ MINTY-MALVINY _fast asleep._] Isn't this your

little waif, Laura?

LAURA. Yes. But what in the world has she been doing to

herself?

LEB. Sh-sh! Don't waken her! [_They speak in lowered

voices._] Why, she was waiting for Santa Claus, and her past

experience of the old gentleman's impartiality seems to be

responsible for an experiment. Anyway, she popped up and assured me

that she was er white chile sho's I was bawn, and her name was Miss

Ann. But it stuck in her throat----

LAURA [_laughing_]. No wonder!

LEB. And she presently broke down and wailed that she warn't

fitten ter hev no Christmas gift. Now, do you suppose you can find

anything for her?

LAURA. Certainly I can, poor little soul. Such a lot of

things have come--ever so much more than the children need. I'll look

them over. [_Going._]

LEB. Wait a minute--have you any fruit in your rooms?

LAURA. Yes--a whole dish. I'll bring it. [_Exit._]

LEB. [_rummaging about on dresser_]. Er gob er candy fer

de toe-hole. Ah--this will do nicely. [_Finds box of candy. Enter_

LAURA _with fruit._]

LAURA. Here, Henri, fill her stocking with these. I'll get

some toys. [_Exit._ LEBRETON _takes dish, and sits down to

fill stocking._]

LEB. [_working busily_]. Er gob er candy--there, that's it. An' er

o'ange fer the heel-hole. Good! Here are the nuts an' reesins for all

the other holes--and bananas for the leg! [_Enter_ LAURA. LEBRETON

_holds up stocking proudly for her inspection._] There! I flatter

myself I'm good at the business, though you may say that that leg is

hardly as fat as Minty-Malviny's own.

[LAURA _laughs approval, and busies herself

arranging doll in armchair, with other

toys about her._ LEBRETON _tries to hang

stocking._

LEB. Oh, hang it!

LAURA. What, the stocking?

LEB. Yes--no--yes, that's exactly what I can't do! Come and

help me, will you? [_They struggle with it together, making some

noise._]

LAURA. Hush, Santa Claus, you'll wake her! [_The stocking

is hung, the toys arranged, they stand surveying the display, and

putting last touches._]

LEB. Oh, Laura, this is gorgeous! But you mustn't be too

generous.

LAURA. Nonsense, the children will never miss them. [_They

stand looking down at the coat._ LAURA _lifts the edge and

kneels beside_ MINTY-MALVINY.] She's too funny--poor little

monkey! Oh, Henri, when we are back in our own home, I should like to

take this poor little neglected thing and give her a home and look

after her a little. Do you suppose I could?

LEB. I don't see what's to prevent. She looks perfectly

friendless. [_They rise and go to door._]

LAURA. You are a good heart, Henri.

LEB. The good heart is yours! I'm Marse Santa Claus--and I intend

to put Minty-Malviny in your stocking! [_Both laugh heartily, but

quietly, and exchange good nights._ LAURA _goes._ LEBRETON _comes

back, standing at table a moment._]

LEB. I believe I rather envy the old gentleman! [_Puts out

light and goes towards alcove, his dressing gown thrown over his

arm._]

[_Curtains are drawn for a moment, to indicate

the passing of the night. When they open,

daylight has come, the fire is dim_, MINTY-MALVINY

_is waking._

M.-M. [_catching sight of toys, as she sits up and stretches_].

Ow! Wow! Wow! [_She fairly yells, beside herself with joy._] Ole

Santa Claus done come down de chimbly sho' 'nuff, lak I seed him!

An' he done fotch me er wax doll, an' er set o' dishes, same ez ef

I wuz er white chile! Oh, Lawdy, Lawdy, Lawdy! [_Jumps up and gets

down stocking, feeling it, and peering through the holes._] Er gob

er candy in de toe-hole, and er o'ange in de heel-hole. [_Pauses

suddenly, her arm thrust into the stocking._] Lawd, I is glad I didn'

try ter stick ter dat lie about bein' er white chile whar name Miss

Ann! [_Continues her ecstatic rummaging._] My lan'! I jes' ez lief be

er nigger ez er white chile! An' er heap liefer!

[_Enter_ ALPHONSE, _with an armful of firewood.

Stands horrified on the threshold,

then rushes forward._

ALPH. Ah-h-h-h! 'tite diablesse! va-t-en! I'm goin' to shake

the life out of you, singe!

[_A boot whizzes past his ear, from the direction

of the alcove._

LEB. [_imperiously_]. Let her alone, you rascal! If you dare

to touch her I'll thrash you within an inch of your life!

ALPH. [_obsequiously_]. Yaa-as, M'sieu Henri.

M.-M. [_maliciously, half whispering_]. Walk jes' so! [_Makes a face

at_ ALPHONSE. _Aloud._] I'ze dat gemplum's nigger whar is

dar in de bade, an' I gwine he'p mek he fiah. [ALPHONSE

_goes viciously to work to make the fire, frustrating_

MINTY-MALVINY'S _attempts when possible, snatching the poker

away from her, etc. She is exasperatingly pleasant and superior._]

You ain' bresh de hearf. [_He does so, and gathers up the rubbish

with one last grimace._]

ALPH. [_at door_]. Singe!

[_Exit._

M.-M. [_tossing her head and chuckling_]. Dat French nigger don' dass

say nuffin to me, no mo'!

[_Enter_ LEBRETON _from alcove, tying the

cords of his dressing gown._

LEB. Good-morning, Minty-Malviny--Merry Christmas to you!

M.-M. [_bobbing little courtesies to him_]. Mawnin', Marse

Henry--same to you, suh! [_Looks at him with puzzled

half-recognition, head on one side, like a bright little bird._]

LEB. [_to himself, sitting near table_]. She's nearly sharp

enough to know me! [_To her._] Minty-Malviny, what are all those

things? Where did you get them?

M.-M. [_diverted from her study, turns to the toys_]. 'Deed, Marse

Henry, I didn't _took_ 'em f'um nobody. Ole Santa Claus done come

down dis yer chimbly an' fotch 'em heself.

LEB. You don't say so! How do you know he did?

M.-M. Done saw him, Marse Henry.

LEB. You did? Did he scare you?

M.-M. Laws, no! I'ze erspectin' him, co'se, an' I jes' 'membered ma

manners an' ax him howdy, an' he gib me all dese gran' C'ris'mus

gif's.

LEB. All those for _you_, Minty-Malviny?

M.-M. [_coming closer_]. Yes, Marse Henry, I is some s'prised myse'f.

I didn't s'pose no li'l' nigger could hab no such gran' C'ris'mus--I

'lowed 'twar on'y fer de white folks. [_Squats near him, on the

floor, hugging her knees._]

LEB. [_aside_], I 'low white folks do have the lion's share,

myself. [_To her._] See here, Minty-Malviny--where's your Mammy--who

owns you, anyway?

M.-M. Laws, Marse Henry, ain' got no Mammy. She brung me in f'um ole

Mis's plantation, an' den she jes' up an' lef me.

LEB. Who takes care of you?

M.-M. [_with dignity_]. Takes cyah ob myse'f--don' need nobody to

min' _me_.

LEB. Do you mean you earn your own living?

M.-M. Co'se I does! I runs a'rons fo' Mam' Dilcey--dat's you-all's

cook--an' I does chores. An' Mam' Dilcey she treats me pretty

good--dat is, mos'ly. [_Rubs her ear reminiscently._]

LEB. Where do you sleep?

M.-M. Oh, mos' anywheres. [_Sidles nearer to him._] I lak yo'

hearf-rug fust-rate, Marse Henry.

LEB. Oh, you do? [_Aside._] Part of the C'ris'mus gif',

I suppose. [_To her._] Well, Minty-Malviny, my sister, Mrs.

Courvoisier, is here now. In a few weeks she will be going to her own

home--a fine great house, with a big garden--more like your ole Mis's

plantation, you know. How would you like to go and live with her, and

wait on her, and help mind her baby?

M.-M. Dat do soun' mighty scrumptious! But--Marse Henry---- [_looking

at him shyly from the corners of her eyes_] ef it's all er same to

_you_--I'd er heap druther be yo'r li'l' nigger. [_Suddenly turns and

kneels at his feet._]

LEB. [_taken aback, turns away and walks down stage_].

Well--this turn of affairs looks rather more like my sock than

Laura's stocking! [_Turns to her again._] But what about Alphonse?

M.-M. [_with concentrated scorn_]. Dat French nigger! Why---- [_very

rapidly_] he cain't eben mek a fiah!

[_There is a rush from the door. Enter the

children, followed by_ LAURA. _The children

throw themselves upon_ LEBRETON

_with enthusiastic shouts._

CHILDREN. Christmas gift, Uncle! Christmas gift!

PHILIP. We caught you, we caught you!

LAURA. Merry Christmas, Henri!

LEB. I've no breath left to say Merry Christmas, you young bears!

[_Shakes them off, laughing._] Unhand me, villains! I want to tell

you something. There is somebody else here. Minty-Malviny, this is

my sister, Mrs. Courvoisier [MINTY-MALVINY _courtesies to them all,

with little bobs of her head_], and these are my nieces, Miss Louise

and Miss Annette. And here is my nephew, Master Philip Courvoisier.

[_Sits down, with_ PHILIP _on his knee._] Children, when you go home,

Minty-Malviny is going with you, to look after you, and play games,

and tell stories.

PHILIP. Can she tell stories? Oh, goody!

LOUISE [_aside_]. Oh, Mother, how ragged she is!

ANNETTE. Goody! I like stories, too!

LOUISE. Are those your Christmas presents?

PHILIP. Was your stocking just awful full?

ANNETTE. Just plumb full? Ours were.

M.-M. Yes'm, hit sho'ly wuz!

LOUISE. What nice things--did Santa Claus leave them for you?

M.-M. Yes'm. Ole Santa Claus done brung 'em, an' I never 'lowed he'd

gib 'em to no pickaninny [_with lowered voice_], so I powd'ed myse'f

up an' let on lak I'ze er white chile!

ANNETTE. You did! What fun!

M.-M. An' den he come down dat chimbly an' seed me.

PHILIP. Right down this chimney? [_Slips off_

LEBRETON'S _knee, and runs to look up chimney._

LEBRETON _rises and stands by_ LAURA.]

M.-M. Sho's you bawn, honey!

LOUISE. And you saw him?

M.-M. 'Deed I did, Miss Louise. [_The children gather close, and_

MINTY-MALVINY _tells her story with effective drops in her

voice, followed by sudden and startling crescendos._] When he crope

down dat chimbly, an' sot he eyes on me de fust time, he knowed

I wa'n't no white chile. Ca'ze he eyes uz big ez yo' maw's chiny

plates! But he didn' keer! He jes' up an' tuk dat wax doll, an' dem

dishes, an' dat cheer, an' dat table, an' dat cradle out'n de ba-ag

whar he had on he back, an' gun 'em ter me jes' de same ez ef I 'uz

white ez you-alls. But I mos' sho' dat he wouldn' er lef 'em, ner

stuff dat stockin' full er goodies, ef I'd er kep' on tellin' him dat

lie about bein' er white chile whar name Miss Ann! My lan' [_this

with an air of great virtue and pride_], I is glad ole Mis' l'arnt me

to tell de troof!

PHILIP. What did Santa Claus look like?

LOUISE. He brings us things, but we never saw him.

ANNETTE. No, he always comes when we are asleep.

M.-M. Wa-al, he 'uz sump'n lak yo' Unc' Henry, on'y not er leas'

mite gooder-lookin' dan Marse Henry, caze Marse Henry he de bestes'

gempm'n on dis yearth! But he 'uz sump'n lak yo' Unc' Henry. 'Cep'n

he's hade touch de top er de house! [_Makes a quick and startling

motion with her hand and rolls her eyes._] An' he voice big an'

deep, an' growly lak a gre't big b'ar. An' de foot he kicked me wif,

'uz big ez de kitchen stove. [_Resumes her ordinary voice._] Ya-as,

chillen, ef Marse Henry 'uz mo' bigger, an' mo' higher, he 'u'd look

jes' eszactly lak ole Mister Santa Claus!

CURTAIN

NOTES ON COSTUME AND PRESENTATION

Ordinary modern costume. LeBreton should have an iron-gray beard.

Laura and her children daintily and attractively dressed.

Alphonse, mulatto servant, very dandified and vain.

Minty-Malviny, a black pickaninny, in rags and tatters, nondescript

and faded. Her wool braided into little pigtails tied with odd bits

of ribbon and string.

LeBreton, Laura, and Alphonse, by adults. Laura's children, five to

nine years. Minty-Malviny, ten years old. This part could be played

by a boy.

MUSIC. During the moment when the curtain is drawn for

the passing of the night, "Holy Night," or some other well-known

Christmas hymn, is very softly played off stage. LeBreton hums the

same air while filling the stocking, and moving about stage before

this interim.

THE HUNDRED

A PLAY IN ONE ACT

CHARACTERS

MRS. DARLING, a young and pretty widow.

MRS. BONNET, the lady's maid.

CATHERINE, the parlor maid.

MRS. MCGRATH, the cook.

SALLY, the kitchen maid.

TIBBIE, from the East Side.

THE HUNDRED

Adapted from the story by Gertrude Hall.[34]

[Footnote 34: Copyrighted, 1896, by Harper & Bros. Used by courtesy

of Miss Hall and Harper & Bros.]

TIME: _Christmas Eve._

SCENE: MRS. DARLING'S _dressing-room. Dressing-table, with elaborate

and glittering toilette articles, and a large and rather showy

photograph of the late_ MR. DARLING, _also a smaller one of_ MRS.

DARLING'S _cousin, the_ REVEREND DOREL GOODHUE. _R., an alcove hidden

by curtains, containing a couch on which repose The Hundred dolls.

Stage requires two entrances, one communicating with_ MRS. DARLING'S

_bedroom, the other with the rest of the house._

[_Enter_ CATHERINE, _with two carriage wraps,

which she surveys critically._

CATHERINE [_sniffing at one of the wraps, with a sharp

glance at the bedroom door_]. Humph. If there's the merest smidgeon

of camphire about this, I'll hear from it! It's been airing 'most a

week, too. [_Lays them carefully on couch or chair, then stepping

softly, surveys the dressing-table and its appointments. Takes up

newspaper from chair, and glances over it while expressing her

sentiments._] I'll just take this down with me till it's called for.

What with Mr. Jackson the butler, and Sally the kitchen-maid always

going home nights, and Cook slippin' off to her bloomin' family every

chance she gets, it's likely to be lonesome for me this evening.

I'll be bound Mrs. Bonnet'll be off with some friend or other, the

minute Mrs. Darling's out of the house. Not that _her_ company's

over-pleasant. I'd rather stay alone any time. It's good luck for

every other soul in the house when Mrs. Darling dines out. But _I_

never come in for the extras.

[_Enter_ SALLY _with fur-lined carriage shoes,

which she places beside the wraps._

SALLY. Mrs. Darling wanted those warmed in the kitchen. I

sh'd think all these fur fixin's 'd be warm enough without no stove.

CATHERINE [_sullenly_]. You going, too, I suppose?

SALLY. Why, yes. Ain't I done everything? There's no need of

me staying, is there?

CATHERINE. No, I don't suppose there is. I just thought you

might be, that's all.

SALLY. Tell you what I'd like to do!

CATHERINE. What'd you like to do, Sally?

SALLY [_confidentially_]. That's to come back again after

I've been home for just a minute.

CATHERINE [_looks up, unable to conceal her interest_]. You

don't mean just to oblige, do you, Sally?

SALLY. Well, I'd do it in a minute, for nothing else beside,

but that ain't quite all I was thinking of, just this once. Miss

Catherine---- [_hesitates, then continues enthusiastically_] ----have

you seen 'em in there? The whole hundred of 'em laid out in the

alcove here. [_Draws back curtain a little, partly disclosing the

couch with an array of daintily dressed dolls. They pick up one or

two, and look them over admiringly._] I saw 'em last night when Mrs.

Bonnet she sent me up for the lamps to clean, and I've been thinkin'

about it ever since. Law! wouldn't any child like to see a sight

like that! There's a little girl in my tenement, she'd just go crazy.

Do you think there'd be any harm in it, if I was to bring her over

and let her get one peep? She's as clean a child as ever you saw. She

comes of dreadful poor folks, but just as respectable. She never seen

anything like it in her life. Law, what would I have done when I was

a young one, if I'd seen that? I'd thought I was dead and gone to

heaven. I say, Miss Catherine, do you think anybody'd mind?

CATHERINE [_callously_]. How'll they know? Look here, Sally;

you go along as fast as you can, and fetch your young one. And when

you've got back, perhaps I'll step out a minute, two or three doors

up street, and you can answer the bell while I'm gone. Now hurry into

your things. I'll give you your car-fare.

SALLY. Miss Catherine, you're just as good as you can be,

and I'll do something to oblige you, too, sometime. [_Exeunt._]

[_Enter_ MRS. DARLING _from bedroom in evening

dress. Takes her cousin's photo from

dressing-table and holds it at arm's length._

MRS. DARLING. Well, sir, does your charming cousin reach

your standard of feminine appearance? Or is she still far from that

pinnacle of elegance to which she aspires? She should be perfect

indeed when she is to pose before the world as the highly-favored of

the distinguished Mr. Goodhue.... And all the time, I know perfectly

well that he prefers Quaker gowns, or hospital caps and aprons....

Well, I'm not exactly a lily of the field, but when it comes to

Solomon in all his glory!... The morning papers will say so, at

least. "The Reverend Dorel Goodhue, accompanied by his cousin, Mrs.

Darling," _and_ so forth. Oh, sometimes I do grow so tired of it all!

It's such a farce!... Now, this won't do at all. The Reverend Dorel

Goodhue may preach to me on Sunday mornings, from a properly elevated

pulpit, in a proper and decorous and conventional manner, but----

Just be kind enough to turn your reproachful face away, sir, and

let your cousin finish her prinking. [_Replaces photo face down._]

Bonnet, why don't you come and do my hair?

[_Enter_ BONNET, _slowly waving a hot curling

iron._

BONNET. Yes, Mrs. Darling.

[MRS. DARLING _sits before mirror beautifying

her finger-nails, while_ BONNET _curls

a few straggling locks of hair._

MRS. D. [_diligently polishing, murmurs_]. Mind what you are

about.

[BONNET _removes tongs and catches the lock

with greater precaution._

MRS. D. [_louder, with a warning acid in her voice_]. Mind

what you are about!

[BONNET _begins again, after a pause to make

firm her nerve, catching the hair with infinite

solicitude._

MRS. D. [_almost screams_]. Mind what you're about! Didn't I

_tell_ you to be careful? You've been pulling right along at the same

hair! _Do_ consider that it is a human scalp, and not a _wig_--you

are dealing with! Bonny, you're not a bad woman, but you will wear me

out. Come, go on with it; it's getting late. [_She turns the photo

face out once more, and after a moment, as if the sight of it made

her repent, she rolls up her eyes angelically to the reflection of_

BONNET'S _face in the mirror._] Bonny, do you think that

black moiré of mine would make over nicely for you? I am going to

give it to you. No, don't thank me--it makes me look old. Now, my fur

shoes.

[BONNET _brings the shoes and begins to struggle

with them._

MRS. D. [_bracing herself against_ BONNET'S

_efforts_]. I suppose--I suppose I have a very bad temper! [_Laughs

in a sensible, natural way._] Tell the truth, Bonny; if every

mistress had to have a certificate from her maid, you would give me a

pretty bad one, wouldn't you? But I was abominably brought up. I used

to slap my governesses. And I've had all sorts of illnesses; trouble,

too. And I mostly don't mean anything by it. It's just nerves. Poor

Bonny! I do treat you shamefully, don't I?

BONNET [_expanding in the light of this uncommon

familiarity_]. Oh, ma'am, I would give you a character as would make

it no difficulty in you getting a first-class situation right away;

you may depend upon it, ma'am, I would. Don't this shoe seem a bit

tight, ma'am?

MRS. D. Not at all. It's a whole size larger than the old

ones. If you would just be so good as to hold the shoe-horn properly.

There, that is it. [_Rises and stands surveying the two wraps._]

Which shall I wear? [BONNET _draws back for a critical view,

but dares not suggest unprompted._] The blue is prettier, but the

gray with ermine is more becoming. Oh, Bonny, decide for me quickly,

like a tossed-up penny!

BONNET. Well, I think now I should say the blue one, ma'am.

MRS. D. [_musing_]. Should you? But I look less well in

it. Surely I would rather look pretty myself than have my dress

look pretty, wouldn't I? Give me the gray, and hurry. Mr. Goodhue

will be here in a second.... Bonnet, you trying creature! Didn't

I _tell_ you to put a hook and eye in the neck of this? Didn't I

_tell_ you? _Where_ are your ears? _Where_ are your senses? What on

_earth_ do you spend your time thinking about, I should like to know,

anyway? I wouldn't wear that thing as it _is_, not for--not for----

Oh, I'm tired of living surrounded by fools! Take it away--take it

away! Bring the other one.... Now, button my gloves. [_Looks at

herself in the glass, passively letting_ BONNET _take one

of her arms to button the glove. Murmurs._] Ouch! Go softly; you

pinch! [BONNET _changes her method, and pulls very gently.

Louder._] Ouch! You pinch me! [BONNET _stops short, looks

helplessly at the glove, casts up her eyes as if appealing to heaven,

then tries again._]

MRS. D. [_screams_]. Ouch, ouch, ouch! You pinch like anything! I'm

black and blue! [_Tears her arm from the quaking_ BONNET, _fidgets

with the button, and pulls it off._] Bonnet, how many times must I

tell you to sew the buttons fast on my gloves before you give them to

me to put on?... No, they were not! [_Pulls off the glove and throws

it far across the room. A knock at the door._]

MAN'S VOICE [_respectfully_]. Mr. Goodhue is below, ma'am.

MRS. D. [_humbly, like a child reminded of its promise to

behave_]. Get another pair, and let me go. [_Tucks a final rose, or

bunch of violets into the bosom of her dress, turns to leave the

room, then pauses to draw back the curtains and look at the dolls.

Speaks gushingly._] Aren't they lovely, the hundred of them? Did you

ever see such a sight? One prettier than the other! I almost wish I

were one of the little girls, myself!

BONNET. Them that gets them will be made happy, surely,

ma'am. I suppose it's for some Christmas Tree?

MRS. D. They are for my cousin Dorel's Orphans. Pick up,

Bonny. Open the windows. Mind you tell Jackson to look at the

furnace. I shall not be very late--not later than twelve. [_Exit._]

[BONNET _moves briskly about, straightening

the room, with no affectation of soft-stepping.

She digresses from her labors

to get a black skirt from the bedroom,

which she examines critically, then replaces.

A knock._

MAN'S VOICE [_only a shade less respectful than before_].

Miss Pittock is waiting below, ma'am.

BONNET. Very well, I'll be down directly. [_Exit, and

re-enter at once with a rather old-fashioned cloak and bonnet, which

she dons before the glass._] I hope I haven't kept Miss Pittock

waiting. [_Looks contemptuously at her wrap._] _She_ looks quite

more than the lady in her mistress's last year's cape. They say the

shops is a sight to behold this year--I haven't a minute to get a

look at them myself--and it do seem as if people made more to-do

about Christmas than they used. I wonder what kind of shops Miss

Pittock'll fancy most. I'd rather see the show-windows in the Grand

Bazaar first. They do have the most amazing show there. Anyway, we've

got plenty of time. Her lady won't be home before twelve, and no more

will mine. [_Turns down gas, and exit._]

[_Enter_ CATHERINE, _in a coat, with jet spangles

and a hat with nodding plumes.

Turns up gas, and looks about her while

drawing on a pair of tight gloves. Enter_

SALLY _and_ TIBBIE _in outdoor wraps,

shawls, and "comforters."_

SALLY. Oh, Miss Catherine, I didn't know where you was. I

thought maybe you was gone.

TIBBIE [_hanging back_]. You didn't tell me! You didn't tell

me!

CATHERINE. Now you'll be sure she don't touch anything,

Sally. [_Looks_ TIBBIE _over._]

SALLY. Naw! She won't hurt anything. I've told her I'd skin

her if she did.

CATHERINE. Are her hands clean? You'd better give them a

wash, anyhow.

[TIBBIE _drops her eyes, a little mortified._

SALLY. All right. I'll wash 'em.

CATHERINE. Did she scrape her boots thoroughly on the mat

before she came up?

SALLY. I looked after all that, Miss Catherine. Just you go

along with an easy mind.

CATHERINE. Well, I'm off. I won't be long gone. Why don't

you give her a piece of that cake? It's cut. But don't let her make

any crumbs. Here, give me your things. I'll take 'em down to the

kitchen. Good-by, little girl. I guess you never was in a house like

this before. Good-by, Sal. Is my hat on straight? [_Exit with coats._]

SALLY. She's particular, ain't she?

TIBBIE. I'd just as soon wash them again, but they're clean.

I thought you said she was gone off to a party, and going to be gone

till real late.

SALLY [_plumps down to contort herself in comfort_]. Law!

She thought it was Mis' Darling herself! Law! Law! [TIBBIE

_laughs, too, but less heartily._] Now what'll we do first? Do you

want the treat right off?

TIBBIE. Oh, lemme guess, first, Sal, and tell me when I'm

hot! Is it made of sugar?

SALLY. No, it ain't.

TIBBIE. But you said it was a treat, didn't you, Sally?

SALLY. I did that. But ain't there treats and treats?

There's goin' to the circus, for instance. That hasn't any sugar.

TIBBIE. Is it a circus, Sally? Is it a circus?

SALLY. No, it ain't a circus, but it's every bit as nice.

TIBBIE. Is it freaks, Sally? Oh, tell me if it's freaks! It

isn't? Are you sure I'll like it very much? It's nothing to eat, and

it's nothing I can have to keep, and it's not a circus. What color is

it? You'll answer straight, won't you?

SALLY. Oh, it's every color in the world, and striped, and

polka-dotted, and crinkled, and smooth. There's a hundred of it.

TIBBIE [_rapturously_]. Oh!

SALLY [_takes her hand_]. Come along now, I'm going to

wash your hands in Mrs. Darling's basin. Ain't it handsome? [_Pokes

the scented soap under the nose of_ TIBBIE, _who sniffs

delightedly._] Flowers on the chiny, too. [_Washes_ TIBBIE'S

_hands while they talk._] Did you get anything for Christmas yet,

Tibbie? [TIBBIE _moves her head slowly up and down, absorbed

in the process of washing._] What did you get?

TIBBIE. A doll's flatiron an' a muslin bag of candy. I put

the iron on to heat and it melted. I gave what was left to Jimmy.

SALLY. Who gave them to you?

TIBBIE. Off the Sunday-school tree. But there weren't no

lights on it because it was daytime. Sally, I know something that has

a hundred----

SALLY. What's that? Let's see if you've got it now?

TIBBIE [_shamefacedly_]. A dollar--is a hundred cents.

SALLY. Well, and would I be bringing you so far just to show

you a dollar? This is worth as much as a dollar, every individual one

of them. Tibbie, it's just the grandest sight you ever seen--pink and

blue and yellow and striped----

TIBBIE [_after looking her fixedly in the face, now almost

shouts_]. It's marbles!

SALLY. Aw, but you're downright stupid, Tibbie! I don't mind

telling you I'm disappointed. You're just a common, everyday sort

of a young one, with no idear of grandness in your idears, at all!

And you don't seem to keep a hold on more than one notion at a time.

First it's a dollar. Is that pink and blue? And next it's marbles.

Is marbles worth a dollar apiece? Now tell me what's the grandest,

prettiest thing ever you saw----

TIBBIE. ... Angels.

SALLY. D'you ever see any?

TIBBIE. In the church-window, painted.

SALLY. Well, this is as handsome as a hundred angels, less

than a foot tall, all in new clothes, with little hats on.

TIBBIE. Sally, I think I know, now. Only it couldn't be

that. There couldn't likely be a hundred of them altogether, for it

isn't a store you brought me to! You didn't tell me we were going to

a store.

SALLY. No more it is. We're going to stay right here in Mrs.

Darling's house, and no place but here.

TIBBIE [_faintly, looking all about_]. But where is there a

hundred of anything?

SALLY. Oh, this ain't it, yet! This is only like the

outside entry. Now, Miss Tibbs, what kind of scent will you have on

your hands?

TIBBIE. Oh, Sal!

SALLY [_at dresser_]. Shall it be Violet, or Roossian

Empress, or--what's this other?--Lilass Blank? or the anatomizer

played over them like the garden hose? [_They unstop the bottles in

turn, and draw up great, noisy, luxurious breaths._]

TIBBIE. This, Sally, this one with a double name, like

a person. [SALLY _pours a drop in each hand, and_

TIBBIE _dances as she rubs them together._] Why are the

little scissors crooked? [_Busily picks up things one after the

other_]. What for is the fluting-irons? What for is the butter in the

little chiny jar? What's the flour for in the silver box? Oh, what's

this? Oh, Sal, what's that?

SALLY. It's to make you pale. It ain't fashionable to be red. [_Picks

up powder-puff, and gives_ TIBBIE, _who draws back startled and

coughing, a dusty dab on each cheek, then applies it to her own. The

two stand gazing in silent interest at themselves in the mirror,

gradually breaking into smiles._ SALLY _suddenly hitches first

one shoulder, then the other, and brushes her face clean_, TIBBIE

_faithfully aping her movements. Then they look at themselves again._]

TIBBIE. But I ain't pale, anyhow.

SALLY. Law! that you ain't!

TIBBIE. Who's the gentleman, Sal, in the pretty frame?

SALLY. That's Mrs.'s husband. He ain't been living some time.

TIBBIE. Oh, he ain't living.

SALLY. Now, Tibbs, I'm going to get you that cake before I

show you the Hundred. You wait here. But don't you hurt anything, or

I'll skin you sure, like I told Miss Catherine. And whatever you do,

don't you look behind that curtain till I come back.

TIBBIE. Is the Hundred there?

SALLY. Yes, it's there. [_Exit._]

[TIBBIE _looks at the curtain for a moment,

then turns to examine other wonders.

Strokes the soft cushions, etc., with the

palm of her hand, which she frequently

stops to smell. Gazes at the photo of the_

REVEREND DOREL.

TIBBIE. He looks like a real kind, good man. I'm going to ask Sally

if she knows him. [_Sits down on the floor and strokes the fur rug.

Enter_ SALLY _with cake-box._ TIBBIE _chooses gravely, then speaks

with her mouth full._] I never tasted any cake like this before.

M-m-m-m! Say, Sally, this big thing's 'most as good as a dog. It's so

soft I'd like to sleep on it.

SALLY [_with feigned coldness_]. Oh, all right! I don't

think we'll bother any more about seeing The Hundred.

TIBBIE. I had forgotten, honest, Sally.

SALLY. Eat your cake, and come along, then.

TIBBIE [_jumping up_]. Can't I take it, in my hand?

SALLY. No, for when you see 'em, you'll drop it quick all

over the floor.

TIBBIE [_hurrying it down_]. All right. I will.

SALLY. Wait a minute. You turn your back, and I'll go and

open the curtains. When I sing out, you turn around.

[TIBBIE _stands facing audience, hands clasped

tightly in impatience._

SALLY. Ready!

[TIBBIE _gives one bound, then stops short

quite overcome._

SALLY [_expectantly_]. Well, ma'am? [TIBBIE _stands

gazing, unable to speak._] Well, I never! Don't you like 'em? What on

earth did you expect, child? Well, I never! Well, if it don't beat

all! Why, when I was a young one---- Why, Tibbie, girl--don't you

think they're _lovely_?

TIBBIE [_whispers_]. Yes. [_Nodding her head slowly, then

letting it hang._]

SALLY [_understanding_]. Aw, come out o' that! Come,

let's look at 'em one by one, taking all our time. Come to Sally,

darling, and don't feel bad. We'll have lots of fun. [_Takes_

TIBBIE'S _hand and draws her nearer the dolls, then sits on

the floor and pulls_ TIBBIE _down into her lap._]

TIBBIE. I had almost guessed it, you know, when you said

like angels with hats on. But I couldn't think there would be a

hundred unless it was a store. What has the lady so many for?

SALLY. Bless your heart! They ain't for herself! They're for

orphans in a school that a minister cousin of hers is superintendent

of. She's been over a month making these clothes. Every Wednesday

she would give a tea-party, and a lot of ladies come stitching and

snipping and buzzing over the dolls' clothes the blessed afternoon.

And I washed the tea things after them all!

TIBBIE. They are for the orphans. Are there a hundred

orphans?

SALLY. Oh, I guess likely.

TIBBIE. Suppose, Sally--suppose there were only ninety-nine,

and some girl got two!

SALLY. Well, we two have got a hundred for to-night,

Tibbie, so let's play, and glad enough we've got our mothers. Look,

this is the way you must hold them to be sure and not crumple

anything. [SALLY _slips her hand under a doll's petticoats,

and they peep at the dainty underclothes._ SALLY _spurs

on_ TIBBIE'S _enthusiasm by the tones of her voice,

making the wonder more, to fill the child's soul to intoxication._

TIBBIE _easily responds, fairly rocking herself to and fro

with delight._]

SALLY. My soul and body! Did you ever see the like!

[_Sighs._] And not a pin among 'em. All pearl buttons, and silk

tying-strings, and silver hooks and eyes; and, mercy on my soul! a

little bit of a pocket in every dress, with its little bit of a lace

pocket-handkerchief inside. D'you see that, Tibbie?

TIBBIE [_breathlessly_]. Oh, Sally! Oh, _Sal_ly!

SALLY. Come on, Tibbie; let's choose the one we would choose

to get if we was to get one given us. Now I would like that one in

red velvet. It's just so dressy, ain't it, with the gold braid sewed

down in a pattern round the bottom. Which would you take?

TIBBIE. I should like the one all in white. She must be a

bride; see, she has a wreath and veil and necklace. I should like her

the very best. But right after that, if I could have two, I should

like this other in the shade hat with the forget-me-nots wreath, and

forget-me-nots dotted all over her dress. And, see! the sky-blue

ribbon. If I could just have three, then I would take this one, too,

with the black lace shawl over her head, fastened with roses, instead

of a hat. She has such a lovely face! And after her I would choose

this one in green--or this one in pink; no, this one here, Sally;

just look--this one in green and pink. And you--if you could have

more than one, which would you choose, after the red one?

SALLY. Well, I guess I should choose this one in white.

TIBBIE. Oh, no, Sally, don't you remember? That is the

bride, the one I said the very first. You can have all the others,

Sally dear, except the bride. But let's see, perhaps there are two

brides. Yes!--no!--that is just a little girl in white, without a

wreath. Should you like her as well? I was the first to say the

bride, you know.

SALLY. Law! I wouldn't have wanted her if I'd known she was

a bride! I take this one, Tibbie--this one with feathers in her hat.

Ain't she the gay girl in red and green plaid? And this purple silk

one, and this red and white stripe, and this----

TIBBIE. Wait! That's enough; Sally, that makes four for you.

It's my turn now. If I could have five, I should take one of the

rosebud ones--no, two of them, so's to play I had twins. Say, Sally,

what if we could choose one apiece--first you one, and then me one,

till we'd chosen them all up, and got fifty apiece!

SALLY. What if we could! Wouldn't that be just grand! Tell

us some more you'd take.

TIBBIE [_pointing and speaking at first slowly and

meditatively, then more and more quickly_]. I'd take this darling

blue girl, and this yellow one, and this cunning little spotted one,

and this, and this, and this, and this, and this---- Oh, Sally, if it

was only real, and not just let's-pretend! Now it's your turn.

SALLY [_placing her forefinger pensively against the side of

her nose_]. For my fifth one, I choose her--her with the little black

velvets run all through.

TIBBIE [_promptly_]. Taken already.

SALLY. Then her over there with the short puffy sleeves.

TIBBIE. Taken!

SALLY. She taken, too? Well, then, her in the pink Mother

Hubbard, with the little knitting-bag on her arm.

TIBBIE. Taken, Sally! Can't you remember anything? Those

belong to me; I chose them long ago. These are the not taken ones

over here; here, and here, and here, and here, and here, and here,

and----

SALLY. Aw, you're a great girl! [_Suddenly throws her arms

around_ TIBBIE _and casts herself back on the floor, where

they tumble and roll in a frenzy of fun._] Oh, Tibbie, ain't we

having a time of it?

TIBBIE [_almost shouting_]. Yes!--ain't we having a time of

it!

SALLY. Ain't this a night?

TIBBIE. Oh, yes,--ain't it a night! [_They tickle and

poke each other until almost hysterical. At last_ TIBBIE

_disentangles herself from the panting and laughing_ SALLY,

_and gets up._] Here, Sally, now stop laughing, and let's go on. It

was your turn. You'd best take that one. She looks as if she might

be a little girl of yours, her cheeks are so red--red as a great big

cabbage! [_Laughs till she nearly cries._]

SALLY. Well, it's sure none of 'em has legs to make 'em look

like children of yours! [_At this_ TIBBIE _flings out her

thin black legs with the action of a young colt, and drops to the

floor, where they frolic as before. In the midst of their gale of

mirth, a bell rings. They sit up, and look at each other in silent

consternation._]

SALLY [_after a pause, in a solemn whisper_]. Murder!

TIBBIE [_in her ear_]. What is it?

SALLY. Was it the front door or the back door?

TIBBIE. I dunno, Sally. [SALLY _picks herself up,

and casts a hurried glance on the dolls and about the room, to see

if things are nearly as she found them, then turns down the light.

Leads_ TIBBIE _to bedroom door._]

SALLY [_glancing at clock_]. It ain't late. It ain't a bit

later than I supposed. It can't be her! It might be Mrs. Bonnet,

though, getting home before Catherine, who's got the key. I shouldn't

want her to catch you here for the whole world. Look here, Tibbie.

You stand in here till I find out who it is, and if it's Mrs. Bonnet,

you'll have to stay hidden till I find a good chance to come and

smuggle you down. [_Pushes_ TIBBIE _through door, and exit

by other door._ TIBBIE _very cautiously pokes her head out

and looks around._]

TIBBIE. What's that scratching? I know there's a mouse here

somewhere. Go right away, mousie. There's nobody in here. Go right

away!

SALLY [_without. Her voice calm, and pleasant with a kind of

company pleasantness_]. Tibbie! It's all right. It's just a friend

dropped in for a moment. You can play a little longer. Turn up the

light carefully. But remember what I told you.

[_Enter_ TIBBIE _at the first sound of_ SALLY'S

_voice. Turns up the light, draws back the

curtain in front of the dolls, and kneels

before them. Takes up the bride with a

reverent hand, and after long contemplating

her, kisses her very seriously and tenderly.

Then moves the dolls about to

bring those she has chosen closer together._

TIBBIE [_meditatively_]. I can't play they are a family, there are

too many all the same age and all girls. I will play they are a

hundred girls in an orphan asylum--a very rich orphan asylum--and

that I am the superintendent. To-morrow I'm going to give each a

beautiful doll for a Christmas present. This little girl's name is

Rosa. That one is Nellie. That one is Katie. That one is Sue. And

Mary. And Jennie. And Ethel, and Victoria, and Blossom, and Violet,

and Pansy, and Goldenlocks, and Cherrylips---- Oh, dear, I know I can

never name them all. There surely ain't enough names to go around

and I'd just have to make up names for them. Kirry, Mirry, Dirry,

Birry! These don't sound like anything. I wonder what they do every

day in orphan asylums. They must have school and learn lessons, I

guess. I'll be the teacher, now. Miss Snowdrop! [TIBBIE _assists the

dolls to move, and answers for them in a squeaking little voice._]

"Yes, ma'am." Spell knot. "N-o-t." Not at all, my dear. Sit down

again, my dear. Miss Lily; stand up, miss, and see if you can do any

better this morning. Miss Pansy, I see you putting your foot out to

trip poor Miss Blossom. Don't you do that again, child, or I shall

have to stand you in the corner. Why, Rosy, how red your cheeks are!

Don't you feel well? "No, ma'am." Never mind, don't cry. I must take

you to the doctor's right away. Come, my dear. [_Goes to dresser and

looks in glass._] Good-morning, doctor. "Good-morning, ma'am" [_in a

deep voice_]; "you've got a sick child there, I see." Yes, doctor,

this is a young lady from the orphan asylum, and she says she's got a

bad pain in her face. "Yes, yes. I see, I see. Well, we'll give her

something to cure those red cheeks right up. Just come here, miss."

[TIBBIE, _as the doctor, powders the doll's cheeks very gently._]

Very well. Good-by, doctor. "Good-by, ma'am. If she isn't better in

fifteen minutes, let me know." Now, my dear, you needn't go back to

school. The orphans might catch it. I'd like to rock you in my arms,

but the superintendent is too busy.... Oh, dear, I don't like to be

a superintendent. I think I'll have you for my little girl [_draws

forward a low rocker and carefully turns down light_], and get you

some nice little sisters [_gathers a dozen dolls_], and then rock you

all to sleep. [_Settles comfortably in the chair._] It's bedtime, and

you must be rocked and loved a little. Now, sh! Sh! Sh! Sh! What's

that, Mamie? Sing to you? Very well. [_Sings._] Rosie, what are

you crying for now? You want me to rock faster? All right, I will.

[_Rocks faster. Rosie continues to cry, and the rocking soon becomes

furious. In the excitement one doll slips unnoticed to the floor._]

There, that's better. Now, children, do go to sleep.... Mother is

sleepy herself. [_Rocking becomes slower and slower, and at last

stops entirely._ TIBBIE _falls asleep.... Enter_ SALLY.]

SALLY. Lively, Tibbie! Miss Catherine has got back. We must

be packing off home. I declare I lost sight of the time. There's just

no one like a fireman to be entertaining, I do declare. Mrs. Bonnet

won't be long coming now. [_Turns up light, sees_ TIBBIE

_rubbing her eyes, and the dolls all disarranged. Blankly._] Law! do

you suppose we can get them to look as they did? I hope t' Heaven she

didn't know which went next to which. Do you remember, Tibbie, where

they all belonged?

TIBBIE. Yes, the bride went here. The rosebuds here. The

purple and gray here. I can put them all back, every one.

SALLY [_cheerfully, again_]. No one'll ever know in the

world they've been disturbed. [_Draws off to get general effect.

Dives for the last doll, which_ TIBBIE _sleepily hands up

from the floor._]

SALLY [_in a ghastly whisper_]. Tibbie! look at its head! [TIBBIE

_gazes in a puzzled way. The face is crushed._ SALLY _groans._] Oh,

Tibbie! now what'll we do!

TIBBIE [_truthfully, lifting a very pale face_]. I didn't

do it! I was just as careful! She was one of my daughters. I had her

in my lap, rocking her to sleep with the others; she slipped off my

lap--there were too many for one lap, I guess--but I didn't step on

her. Sure, Sally,--sure as I live, I didn't step on her!

SALLY. Oh, law! You must have rocked on her. Oh, Tibbie, what'll I

do? Here, give her to me.... No, she can't never be fixed. I wonder

if I can cover her up, here. [_Moves the dolls about tentatively._]

But what's the good? They'll count them, and there'll be the mischief

of a fuss. Oh, Tibbie---- [_reaching the end of her good-nature_]

----why did I ever think of bringing you here? Now look at all the

trouble you've brought on me, when I thought you'd be so careful! And

I told you and told you till I was hoarse. And here you've ruined

all! [_Drops into a chair before the wreck._ TIBBIE, _not daring to

meet_ SALLY'S _eyes, stands motionless and speechless._] I declare I

don't know _what_ to do! I wish I'd never seen 'em! I wish there'd

never been any Christmas! Oh, it's a great job, this! Tibbie, you've

done for me this time!

[_Enter_ CATHERINE.

CATHERINE. Hurry, and get off, now, Sally.

SALLY [_blurts out_]. She's broken one of them!

CATHERINE. You don't mean it!

SALLY. Yes, she has!

CATHERINE. Let me see it. Oh, you wicked child! [_Shakes_ TIBBIE

_vigorously by one arm._ SALLY, _attempting a rescue, seizes her by

the other, and the poor child is jerked about unmercifully._] She's

smashed its face right in! Now, whoever heard of such naughtiness?

[TIBBIE _escapes and twists about to get her

back to the two._

SALLY. She didn't do it out of naughtiness, at all, Miss

Catherine. She's as good a child as ever lived! [TIBBIE'S

_shoulders give a convulsive heave._] It was an accident entirely.

But that's just as bad for me--I suppose I shall have to say it was

me did it.

CATHERINE. And then they'll say what was I doing while the

kitchen-help was poking about in the lady's chamber. No; you don't

get me into no trouble, Sally Bean! You'd much better say how it

was--how that you asked me if you just might bring a little girl to

look, and I said you might, out of pure good-nature, being Christmas

is rightly for children, and I've a softness for them. And while we

was both in the kitchen, she slipped away from us, and come here and

done it before we knew. And the child will say herself that it was

so. You'll be packed off, dead sure, out of this place, if you let

on you meddled with them yourself. She won't have her things meddled

with---- There! I hear the door now. There comes that old cat Bonnet.

[_Enter_ MRS. BONNET, _her cheek bones and

the end of her nose brilliant with the cold.

She carries a paper bag, and speaks with

an impediment and a breath of peppermint._

BONNET. What's the matter? What child is that?

CATHERINE. It happened this way, Mrs. Bonnet. I allowed

Sally to fetch this child up to see Mrs. Darling's dolls.--Just for a

treat, of course--never thinking Sally'd be so careless as to let one

of them get broken. But that's what she done. I'd just stepped out

for a moment, never for a minute supposing anything like this could

happen, but you just see for yourself. That doll can't be mended no

way at all. And now, Mrs. Bonnet, what's to be done?

BONNET. Oh, you wicked little brat! I just want to get hold

of you and shake you! [_Makes a snatch at_ TIBBIE, _who gets

beyond her clutch, and turns scared eyes on_ SALLY.]

TIBBIE [_just audibly_]. I want to go home; I want to go

home.

BONNET [_bitterly_]. It don't seem possible that I can run

out a minute just to do an errand for Mrs. Darling herself--to get a

spool of feather-stitching silk--but things like this has to happen.

Catherine, I thought you at least was a responsible person, and here

you has to go and----

CATHERINE [_promptly_]. Mrs. Bonnet, you just let that

alone! Don't you try none of that with me! I went out of an errand

every bit as much as you did. I went out to make sure the ice cream

would be sent in good season for Christmas dinner, I did. Now I don't

get dragged into this mess one bit more than you do!

BONNET [_looking at her with a poison-green eye_]. Well,

Mrs. Darling will be here in a minute, and then we shall see what

we shall see. Land, ain't that woman been cross to-day, and fussy!

'Tain't as if she was like other people--a little bit sensible, and

could take some little few things into consideration, and remember

we're all human flesh and blood. Not much! She don't consider

nothing, nor nobody, nor feelings, nor circumstances! She just makes

things fly! Things has to go her way, every time!

TIBBIE [_pathetically, turning a trembling face to_

SALLY]. I want to go home!

BONNET [_uglily_]. No, you shan't go home! You shall stay

right here and take the blame you deserve, after spoiling the face

of that handsome doll. What do you mean by it, you little brat, you

little gutter-imp!

SALLY [_with a boldness new in her relations with_ MRS.

BONNET]. You let her alone, Mrs. Bonnet! Don't you talk to her

like that! Anyone can see she's as sorry as sorry can be for what

she's done, and all the trouble she's got us into---- [COOK

_appears in door._]

BONNET. And what does that help, I'd like to know? The doll

is broke, ain't it? And some one of us is going to catch it, however

things go. You're a lucky girl, I say, if you don't lose your place.

Some one of us is a-going to, I can easy foretell.

CATHERINE [_firmly, with lifted chin_]. I ain't going to

lose my place! Here comes Cook now! I suppose she wants to get into

trouble, too.

[_Enter_ COOK, _her high-colored shawl pinned

on her breast with a big brooch, her

bonnet-strings nearly lost in her fat chin._

COOK. What's the matter? What's it all about? Whose nice

little girl is this?

SALLY. I brought her here, Mrs. McGrath. She's Tibbie, a

neighbor's child, and I brought her----

COOK. To see them beautiful dolls. Of course. And one of

'em happened to get broke? [_Goes to_ TIBBIE, _and lifts

her miserable little face._] Don't you feel bad one bit, darlin'! It

was all an accident, and it's no good crying over spilt milk. And if

Mrs. Darling gets mad at you, she ain't the real lady I take her for.

Why, I gave my Clary a new doll this very evenin' and it's ready for

a new head this minute. And did I go for to rare and tear about it?

Not a bit of it! Why, bless you, she didn't go for to do it! Why,

what child smashes a doll a-purpose? You're a pretty set, the whole

gang of you, to pitch into a child! [_Tries, with_ SALLY,

_to comfort and silence_ TIBBIE, _who by this time is freely

weeping. Exit_ BONNET, _and re-enter at once without hat and

coat._]

COOK [_looking hard at_ MRS. BONNET]. I've a great

mind to stay here myself and stand up for her, yer pack of old maids,

the lot of yer!

BONNET. You will oblige me, Mrs. McGrath, by doing nothing

of the sort. We've no need to have a whole scene from the drama.

You've no business on this floor, anyhow, and I must insist on your

keeping yourself in your own quarters.

COOK [_mutters_]. And I'll take my own time, yer born

Britisher! [_Putting her arm around_ TIBBIE.] Well, Tibbie

dear, you can be sure of this: however bad this seems, it'll soon be

over. And if Mrs. Darling scolds, that'll soon be over, too. It'll

all be looking different to you in the morning. However things goes,

you'll soon be forgetting all about it. And to-morrow is Christmas

Day, that our own dear Lord was born on, and I'll bake you a little

cake and send it to you by Sally.

TIBBIE [_sobbing_]. But Sally's going to be sent away.

COOK. So she might be, but I feel it in my little toe that

she ain't going to be.

SALLY [_bravely_]. Well, if I am, I am, and there an end.

But I don't see why she can't take the price of the doll out of my

wages and let me stay.

BONNET. I think you'll find that it ain't most particularly

the cost of the doll gets you into trouble---- There she comes this

minute!

[_All listen in profound silence._

MRS. D. [_below_]. Good-night, cousin Dorel.

MR. GOODHUE [_below_]. Good-night, cousin Cynthia. Sleep

well.

MRS. D. You, too. Pleasant dreams. Good-night. [_Sound of

door closing._]

[_Enter_ MRS. DARLING. _Stands a moment at

door, regarding the assemblage with a sort

of absent-minded astonishment._

MRS. D. What is it? Has anything happened? What is everybody

doing up here? Whose little girl is this sitting up so late? They

used to tell me I should never grow, my dear, if I sat up late----

BONNET. This is what it is, ma'am. I took the liberty of

stepping out for a few moments, it being Christmas Eve and my work

all done, knowing you wouldn't be needing me till late. And Sally

here took it upon herself to bring a child--how she could presume so,

I'm sure _I_ don't understand, ma'am. She might have known aforehand

something would be broken. And sure enough--when I come in----

MRS. D. Oh, cut it short! What you have to tell is that the

child there has broken one of the dolls, isn't it?

BONNET [_mutters_]. That's it, ma'am.

MRS. D. And you've kept her here when she ought to have been in bed

these hours, to bear the first burst of my displeasure---- [MRS.

DARLING _says so much in a hard voice, with an appearance of cold

anger; here her voice suddenly dies, and she bursts out crying

like a vexed, injured child._] I declare it's too bad! [_She sobs,

reckless of making a spectacle of herself, while all look on in

consternation._] I declare it's too bad! It's no use! It doesn't

matter _what_ I do--it's always the same! It's _always_ taken for

granted that I will conduct myself like a beast. Who can wonder,

after that, if I do? Here I find them, pale as sheets, the five of

them shaking in their boots, because a forlorn little child has

broken a miserable doll. And _what_ is it supposed I shall do about

it? Didn't I dress the hundred of them for children, and little

poor children, too? And I must have known they would get broken, of

course. _Why_ did I dress them? _What_ did I spend months dressing

them for? Solely for _show_, they think,--not for any charity, any

kindness, any love of children, or anything in the _world_ but to

make an effect on an occasion--to make myself a merit with the

parson, perhaps! [_Her crying seems to become less of anger and

nervousness, and more of sorrow._] Oh, it is too bad! One would

imagine I never said a decent thing or did a kind act to anyone.

And, Heaven knows it's not for lack of trying to change. But no one

sees the difference! I am treated like a vixen and a terror. And the

people about me hate and fear and deceive me! A proof of it to-night.

Oh, the _lesson_! Oh, I wasn't _meant_ for this! I wasn't meant for

it! When I think of last Sunday's sermon and how straight to my heart

it went. Oh, I am a fool to cry! [_Dries her eyes, and holds out her

hand to_ TIBBIE.] Come here to me, dear child. What is your name?

What? A little louder! What did you say? Tibbie! Oh, what a nice,

funny name! _You_ didn't think I was going to scold you, did you,

dear? Of _course_ not! It was an accident; I understand all about it.

I used to break my dolls' heads frequently, I remember very well.

[_Puts her arm about_ TIBBIE _and tries to make her head easy on her

shoulder._ TIBBIE, _however, cannot relax, and rests uncomfortably

against her._] Let us see, dear, now, what we can do to make us both

feel happier. I dressed all those dolls for little children I am not

acquainted with at all. Which of them would you like the very best?

Which should you like for your very own?

[TIBBIE _cannot move nor speak, but her eyes

travel towards the dolls._

SALLY [_comes beamingly to_ TIBBIE'S _aid_]. The

bride, Tibbie, the bride!

MRS. D. The bride? Which one is that? That one? Of course! [_Reaches

for it, and_ SALLY _hands it to her._] There, my dear. [TIBBIE _takes

the doll loosely, without breath of thanks._ MRS. D. _reviews the

dolls, and_ TIBBIE'S _hand is stretched involuntarily towards the

broken one._] Of course, of course, you would want that poor dolly

to nurse back to health. Now, dear, isn't there _one more_ you would

like? [TIBBIE'S _confusion overwhelms her._] I'll choose one for you,

and you shall call her Cynthia, after me. How would you like that?

Suppose we say this one with the forget-me-nots? She looks a little

like me, doesn't she, with her hair parted in the middle? Her dress

is made of a piece of one of my own, and that blue is my favorite

color. [_Rising._] There, Tibbie, now you have two whole dollies, and

part of another. You must run right home to bed. A Merry Christmas to

you, dear child. I am very happy to have made your acquaintance.

TIBBIE [_shyly, but heartily_]. I think you are

good--_good_. And, please,--I'd like--if you wouldn't mind--I'd like

to kiss you!

[MRS. DARLING _bends suddenly, and catches

the child in her arms._

CURTAIN

NOTES ON COSTUME AND PRESENTATION

MRS. DARLING. Evening dress.

BONNET and CATHERINE wear black, with white maid's

apron, collar, and cuffs. Outdoor costume as indicated.

MRS. MCGRATH. Shawl and bonnet with no attempt at prevailing

styles. Stout, rosy, motherly, and comfortable.

SALLY. Pretty and wholesome-looking. Appears at first in a

limp blue kitchen-apron, later in her outdoor coat and hat, neat, but

cheap-looking.

TIBBIE. Old dress, very neat and clean, but faded, and with

an outgrown, hand-me-down appearance. She is a thin and half-fed

little tenement-house child, to whom the luxury of Mrs. Darling's

house is an undreamed-of fairy-land.

This part was played by a little girl of nine, who delighted in

learning and acting it. A bright and appreciative child can do it

without undue effort, although it is, of course, the important rôle

of the play.

THE DOLLS. The number of dolls need not be over fifteen or

twenty, if so arranged as to suggest more tiers hidden from view at

the back of the couch. They should be as nearly of one size as is

practicable, though uniformity goes no further. The broken one should

be broken first, and Tibbie must slip it to the floor unnoticed

before she sits down to rock the others.

GENERAL NOTES

FIREPLACE. If scenery is not available, the fireplace used

in this play, and in several others, can easily be built up from

packing-boxes covered with cambric (dull side out), the bricks

or tiles marked in black paint, or even with ink. A valuable and

effective stage-property, used when "Tom's Plan" was first given,

and in many subsequent plays, was an old-fashioned wooden mantel,

obtained through a carpenter who was tearing down an old house. This

may be a suggestion for other amateurs. A small screen can be covered

with cambric, and painted to represent the back of the fireplace, an

opening being left at one side, through which Santa Claus, in "Tom's

Plan," "The Christmas Brownie," and "Their Christmas Party," makes

his entrance. Andirons, with logs and a red electric bulb, will make

a very pretty and effective fire. In "Their Christmas Party," the

poor children hide in the fireplace, and the "Christmas Brownie" goes

in and out several times.

SANTA CLAUS. Red or brown coat, trimmed with ermine (cotton,

or, if practicable, some real fur); high boots; cap to match coat,

with fur brim. He wears a string of sleigh bells over his shoulder,

and carries a pack full of small toys for distribution. White hair,

mustache, and long white beard.

In these plays, in which Santa Claus has often an important part,

do not on any account allow him to wear a mask. The hair, mustache,

and beard, with a good rosy make-up, are sufficient disguise for

him, and in those cases where there are little children in the cast

whose literal belief in Santa Claus must not be disturbed, he is

not indispensable at rehearsals. Partly because he should not be

recognized, an adult player is always indicated for this part, rather

than an older boy, who is apt to be in more intimate touch with the

children.

CHRISTMAS TREE. If the play is to serve as introduction

to a Christmas Tree, the tree should be placed as near the stage

as possible. When the play is over, the lighted tree is unveiled,

and the children who have taken part distribute the presents under

the leadership of Santa Claus. Or, if found more practicable, the

tree may be placed in another room, and Santa Claus may invite the

children of the play and the audience to go with him in search of it.

An appropriate tree song may be sung by the whole audience. Reference

to such songs may be found on the following page.

SUGGESTIONS FOR CAROLS

SONGS AND GAMES FOR LITTLE ONES. Gertrude Walker and Harriet

S. Jenks. Oliver Ditson Company, Boston.

Contains a number of useful songs and carols, among which the

following may be specially mentioned:

"Oh, Ring, Glad Bells!" (P. 58.)

"The First Christmas." (P. 60.)

Good for little children.

"Noël, Noël, the Christ is Born!" (P. 62.)

Excellent processional.

"A Wonderful Tree." (P. 67.)

Tree song.

SONGS FOR LITTLE CHILDREN. Part I. Eleanor Smith. Milton

Bradley Co., Springfield, Mass.

"In Another Land and Time." (P. 31.)

"Waken, Little Children." (P. 33.)

Very simple. Good for small children.

PART II of the same contains Santa Claus and Jack Frost

songs.

THE NEW HOSANNA. New-Church Board of Publication, 3 West

29th Street, N.Y.

Has a good tree song:

"The Christmas Bells in Many a Clime." (P. 4.)

For little children:

"Can There Be a Sweeter Story?" (P. 21.)

There are also a number of old English carols, among them:

"The First Nowell." (P. 2.)

"Come, Ye Lofty, Come, Ye Lowly." (P. 23.)

"From Far Away We Come to You." (P. 30.)

Also several of the more familiar Christmas hymns to be found in most

church hymnals.

For old music, see the following:

CHRISTMAS CAROLS, NEW AND OLD. Novello & Company.

TWELVE OLD CAROLS, ENGLISH AND FOREIGN. Novello

& Company.

FOLK SONGS, AND OTHER SONGS FOR CHILDREN. Oliver

Ditson Company, Boston.

The first and last of these both contain "Good King Wenceslas," which

is included in other collections as well.

Martin Luther's Christmas hymn for his own children, which is very

good for small children, beginning "Away in a manger," is in

DAINTY SONGS FOR LITTLE LADS AND LASSES. John Church

Company, Cincinnati.

End of Project Gutenberg's Christmas Candles, by Elsie Hobart Carter