Project Gutenberg's Christmas Entertainments, by Alice Maude Kellogg

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Title: Christmas Entertainments

Author: Alice Maude Kellogg

Release Date: July 21, 2004 [EBook #12974]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHRISTMAS ENTERTAINMENTS ***




Produced by Leah Moser and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.

FIRST PICTURE.

"They were consulting about it in the nursery." (Page 1 in "The Birds' Christmas Carol.")

In this scene the children's belongings are scattered about: small chairs, a cradle, toys, and picture-books. Mr. Bird stands in the center of the platform holding a large doll dressed in infant's robes. Grandma is seated near, and Uncle Jack, Donald, Paul, and Hugh are discussing a name for the baby. The Christmas hymn is heard after the curtains are drawn and before the

SECOND PICTURE.

"A famous physician had visited them." (Page 12.)

Mr. and Mrs. Bird and the doctor are seated around a library-table in earnest conference.

THIRD PICTURE.

Carol's "Circulating Library." (Page 16.)

Carol is lying in an easy-chair beside a case filled with books. The description of her room should be carried out on the stage as far as practicable.

FOURTH PICTURE.

"The children took their places." (Page 36.)

The nine Ruggles children are seated in a row facing the audience. Mrs. Ruggles stands before them, giving instructions about their behavior at Carol's dinner party. The costumes must be fantastic, following the description in the story—green glass breastpin, the purple necktie, and much-braided hair.

FIFTH PICTURE.

"The feast being over," etc. (Page 35.)

Carol's room is shown again. The Ruggles children are seated around Carol, with Mr. Bird and Mrs. Bird and Uncle Jack in the background.

SIXTH PICTURE.

"There stood the brilliantly lighted tree." (Page 55.)

The same characters that appeared in the preceding scene are shown in attitudes of delight and astonishment as the second curtain is drawn aside to show the Christmas tree.

SEVENTH PICTURE.

"Softly, Uncle Jack." (Page 63.)

The library is shown again. Mr. and Mrs. Bird, Uncle Jack, Donald, Hugh, and Paul are grouped as if listening attentively. At the right of the platform a leaded-window effect is made with a slender wood frame covered with black gauze. Behind this stands a small boy in choir vestments, holding a music book and singing "My Ain Countree" to organ accompaniment.

Chorus.—Oh, ring the bells, the merry Christmas bells, Their music all our pleasure tells. (Repeat, singing tra la la whenever necessary to give the rhythm. They pause in groups in center, right, and left; some sit, others stand, and change their positions during the dialogue)

Harry: Oh dear, the same old thing again this year, I suppose! "Hang up the baby's stocking, be sure you don't forget."

Charlie: This baby's stocking is the biggest bicycle hose I could buy. (Pins it at one side of the chimney.) I don't think old Santa could miss it if he tried.

Dora: I made mine to suit the occasion, for I hope Santa Claus will fit a zither into it. (Displays a large, fantastically shaped stocking of striking color, and fastens it beside Charlie's.)

Harry: You ought to take a prize, Dora, for designing the most—ahem!—unexpected-looking stocking. Generous sized, too! Here goes my contribution to the chimney. (Hangs up a sock.) It's big enough to hold a coin of gold that will buy me a new bicycle. I don't care for any knick-knacks.

Katie: I must confess that I'm rather tired of this old custom of hanging up our stockings on Christmas eve and crawling out of bed in the cold dawn to see what is in them. I wish some one would invent a new way.

Maggie: Just what I thought, Katie, last winter, though I never spoke of it. But if you've hung your stocking up, I must have mine there too. (Goes to chimney.)

John: Well, I refuse to fall in line this year. I'm tired of the whole plan. It seems absurd for an old chap to come tumbling down the fireplace and load up our stockings.

Tom: I agree with you, John! What we want is a new-fashioned Christmas. A real, up-to-date Santa Claus, and no more of this children's nonsense.

Bess: Not have Santa Claus any more? Isn't he coming to-night? (Cries.)

John: Oh yes, he'll remember you if you're a good little girl and stop crying. Dora, help Bess to fasten up her stocking.

(After the stocking is fixed, Bess faces the audience and recites.)

Tom: Let Bess have her old-fashioned Santa Claus, but the rest of us vote for something different.

Harry: I used to think Santa a pretty jolly old duffer, who made lots of sport for the infants, but I'm ready for a change myself.

Dora: Don't count me in to help out your majority; Santa Claus seems to me the kindly spirit of Christmas appearing mysteriously to give us greater pleasure.

Katie: Well, I'll side with the boys this time and see if there is any improvement in holiday matters.

Charlie: You'll think me a baby to stick to the old style. I won't venture an opinion at all.

Tom: Then we are agreed that of Santa Claus we have no need.

John: } Kate: } Tis what we all concede. Harry: } Maggie: }

(All sing to the tune of "Maryland, My Maryland.")

(Electric bell sounds, the door opens, and Mr. St. Nicholas comes on the stage. He bows and takes off his hat.)

Mr. St. N.: Good evening, young people! I see you are at your old-time tricks of hanging up your stockings. This won't do. Don't you know it's gone out of fashion? (Goes toward fireplace; the boys rush to protect their property.)

John: Who are you, sir? And how dare you interfere with our fun?

Mr. St. N.: I am the new, up-to-the-times Santa Claus. My proper name is Mr. St. Nicholas. I am on my rounds to take the names of all the young people who deserve a remembrance at Christmas time. I haven't a moment to lose. My telephones are overburdened with messages, my men are distracted with the work to be done between now and daylight. (Pulls out a book and pencil and prepares to write while he addresses Tom and speaks rapidly without waiting for a reply.) Your name, young man? Your age, birthplace, parents' names? Residence? Attendant at what school? What specific tastes? List of last year's presents. Make haste, time is money.

Katie: But Santa—I mean Mr. St. Nicholas—here are our stockings.

Mr. St. N.: Christmas stockings! trash and nonsense. They belong to the dark ages.

Harry: Pray, how do you bestow your gifts?

Mr. St. N.: By district messenger service, of course! Next boy (to Charlie), give me your name, age, birthplace, parents' names, residence, school, specific tastes, last year's presents.

Charlie: How did you come here, Mr. St. Nicholas? I heard no sleigh-bells at the door.

Mr. St. N. (scornfully): More nonsense to explain. I came down from the north pole in an air-ship of the latest pattern. Come, now, here are these girls waiting to be classified. (To Dora.) Name, age—

Dora: I won't be put in statistics, even if it is Christmas and you are the patron saint.

Charlie: Nor I. I didn't vote for any improvements. Take them away.

John: You seem a trifle ahead of the age, Mr. St. Nicholas, or else we made a great mistake in being discontented with our old-fashioned Christmas.

Tom: Allow me to call down your air-ship.

(Mr. St. Nicholas is ushered to the door. The others turn back at the sound of sleigh-bells. Santa Claus appears at the fireplace.)

Children (greeting him with enthusiasm): Jolly old Saint Nicholas!

Santa Claus: Oh! ho! ha! ha! Are you really glad to see such an old-fashioned specimen as I am?

John: Indeed we are! We have just shown your usurper the door.

Bess (clasping S.C.'s hand): You are the real Santa Claus.

Santa Claus: Yes, I am the real Santa Claus, and I cannot get to work until you children are fast asleep. So scurry away as fast as you can, and a merry, merry Christmas when you awake!

Children (singing to the tune of "Nancy Lee," end at the end leaving the stage):

Chorus.—O ring the bells, the merry Christmas bells, Their music all out pleasure tells. (Repeat.)

(Santa Claus unpacks his goods, and as he fills the stockings he performs various antics, holds up the objects, and dances about. Any local expressions that will create amusement he can bring in with running commentaries. The piano is heard softly till he is through, and then bursts out loudly as the curtain is drawn.)

American girl:

Eskimo girl:

Indian girl:

Chinese girl:

African girl:

Arabian girl:

American girl:

All:

Mother Goose:

Well, well, Father Christmas, I'll do as you say, And put off my trip for the frolic to-day. Your thought of a Christmas reunion is fine For all of our relatives—yours, sir, and mine;— So, though greatly disposed at this season to wander Afloat in the air on my very fine gander, Instead of such exercise, wholesome and hearty, I've come with great pleasure to your Christmas party.

Father Christmas (bowing):

Thanks, thanks, Mother Goose, for the honor you pay To me your old friend now this many a day; Tho' we may not, of course, on all questions agree, We're alike in our love for the children, you see: To give them delight is our greatest of pleasures, And freely we share with them best of our treasures; Our energies each of us constantly bends To keep our loved title "The Children's Two Friends."

Mother Goose:

Ah, yes, Father Christmas, my jingles and rhymes, The boys and girls know in far separate climes, And sometimes I think that your son Santa Claus Earns me more than my share of the children's applause; For wherever he goes with his wonderful pack Santa always has some of my books on his back; When from Christmas-eve dreams children's eyelids unloose Oft they find in their stockings my book, "Mother Goose."

Father Christmas:

Tis true, my dear madam, that I and my son Respect most profoundly the work you have done. The boys from our store-rooms in Christmas-tree Land, Get the bonbons we make on the Sugar-loaf Strand; The children enjoy them,—I cannot deny it,— But still need your writings as part of their diet; Your rhymes, wise and witty, their minds will retain When their toys and their candy are done,—that is plain.

(Enter Jack, the son of Mother Goose. He carries a large golden egg.)

Jack: Oh, there you are, Mother Goose, hobnobbing with Father Christmas! My goose must have known there was going to be a reunion of the Goose and Christmas families! She was so obliging as to lay another egg in honor of the occasion. You shall have it, Father Christmas, and may good luck go with it. (Hands egg.)

Father Christmas: Thank you, Jack. That's a present worth having! I wish my son Santa Claus had as fine a gift to put in every poor body's stocking. He is out on his rounds now, but expects to be back, as he said, "before the fun begins."

Jack: Santa's always ready for fun!

Mother Goose (taking Jack's hand, as he stands beside her):

"This, my son Jack, Is a smart-looking lad; He is not very good, Nor yet very bad."

(Sound of voices outside.)

Jack: Dear me, mother! I can't stir without those young ones following me! (Sound of voices and knocking.)

Children (outside): Jack! Jack!

Jack (calling): All right. Come in. I'm here, and Mother Goose and Father Christmas, too. Surprise us all by being good, won't you?

(Enter, two by two, Little Bo-Peep with a bundle of lamb's wool suspended from a shepherdess crook; Little Jack Horner, carrying carefully a deep pan covered with paper pie crust; Little Miss Muffett, carrying a bowl and spoon; Peter Pumpkin Eater, with a pumpkin under his arm; Curly Locks, with a piece of needlework; Little Boy Blue, with a Christmas horn; Contrary Mary, with a string of bells for bracelets, and carrying shells; Little Tommy Tucker, with a sheet of music; Jack and Jill, carrying a pail; Simple Simon, finger in mouth, looking as idiotic as possible; Polly Flinders, in a torn dress, sprinkled with ashes. The children march and countermarch to music around Mother Goose and Father Christmas, bowing as they pass them. When Mother Goose claps her hands the children group themselves on her side of platform, not in a stiff row, but as naturally as possible. As one after another comes forward for his or her speech, the others appear to be conversing among themselves, making the by-play in keeping with their characters.)

Mother Goose: Tell Father Christmas your names now, my pretty ones, and give him the presents you have brought in his honor.

Little Bo-Peep (coming forward): I'm little Bo-Peep who lost her sheep. I bring you some fine lamb's wool to keep you warm, Father Christmas.

(Father Christmas receives with a gracious air this gift and those that follow, handing them afterward to Jack Goose, who puts them into a large box or basket previously provided for the purpose.)

Jack Horner: I'm little Jack Horner who sat in a corner, eating a Christmas pie. I've brought you one just like it, Father Christmas. This pie is full of plums, and I haven't put in my thumb to pull out one! (Goes back to place after handing pie.)

Miss Muffet: I'm little Miss Muffet, sir. I sat on a tuffet, eating some curds and whey; but there came a big spider, and I was frightened away. Do you like curds and whey, Father Christmas? I hope so, for here are some in a bowl. (Hands gift, and returns to place.)

Peter Pumpkin Eater: Here come I, Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater. But I've saved a nice pumpkin for you, Father Christmas, and here it is. (Returns to place.)

Curly Locks: Just little Curly Locks who sits on a cushion and sews a fine seam, and feeds upon strawberries, sugar, and cream! Here's some of my sewing, Father Christmas. (Presents needlework, and returns to place.)

Little Boy Blue (blowing several blasts on his horn as he comes forward): Here's Little Boy Blue! I blow my horn when sheep's in the meadow and cow's in the corn. I've brought you my very best horn for a present, Father Christmas. It's a good one, I can tell you! (Blows again, and hands to Father Christmas, who smilingly tries the horn before handing on to Jack.)

Contrary Mary: "Mary, Mary, quite contrary," they call me, Father Christmas. I'm not contrary at all. Don't you believe it. Only I don't like to do just the same as other folks. That's the reason I'm not going to give you one of my silver bells or my pretty shells. I'll keep them myself for the present. Perhaps when it's Fourth of July, or some other time when nobody else is thinking about giving you anything, you'll hear from Contrary Mary. (Flounces herself away to place.)

Mother Goose: Fie, fie, my child! Give your presents to Father Christmas as you should. This contrariness grows upon you apace, and must be checked at once. (Mary obeys Mother Goose reluctantly, pouting and muttering to herself.)

Little Tommy Tucker: I am only little Tommy Tucker who sings for his supper. All I can give you is a song, Father Christmas.

Father Christmas: Bravo, Tom Tucker! Be sure you shall have the supper for which you have sung so well. Bless my eyes! Who comes here?

Jack and Jill (together): We are Jack and Jill, Father Christmas. And here's a pail for you. It is the one that we had when "Jack fell down and broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling after." (Hands a pail.)

Simple Simon (drawling): Simple Simon, I am. I met a pieman going to the fair. Says Simple Simon to the pieman, "Let me taste your fare." Says the pieman to Simple Simon, "Show me first your penny." Says Simple Simon to the pieman, "Indeed, I have not any."

Father Christmas: So you did not get the pie? My boy, let it be a lesson to you that in this world nobody can have something for nothing.

Polly Flinders (sobbing): I don't look fit to come to a party, Father Christmas, for I burnt my best dress sitting among the cinders. Please excuse me this time, and let me stay, though I have no gift.

Father Christmas: Certainly, my dear, certainly.

Mother Goose (severely}: You are entirely too indulgent, Father Christmas! Polly Flinders, who sat among the cinders, ought to have stayed at home. (Polly begins to cry.)

Father Christmas: Oh, we must overlook her appearance this time, Mother Goose. Christmas is no time for tears. Go back among your brothers and sisters. Polly. Mother Goose and I will let you stay, but don't sit again among the cinders, Polly Flinders!

(Sound of singing outside. Children of All Nations enter, waving: flags. At the conclusion of their song they stand in a semi-circle behind Father Christmas and Mother Goose.)

(Pointing to Mother Goose and Father Christmas.)

(Taking places.)

(Enter Thanksgiving, carrying a basket of fruit, and accompanied by her children, Peace and Plenty.)

Father Christmas: Why, here's my dear niece Thanksgiving, with her two fine youngsters, Peace and Plenty! Thanksgiving, my dear, permit me to present you to Mother Goose, her son Jack, and all the rest of her family. (Mutual recognitions.} Also, to the Children of All Nations. (Bows.)

Thanksgiving:

With Peace and with Plenty, my children, I bring To good Father Christmas our small offering.

(Presents basket.)

Peace and Plenty (together):

Long live Father Christmas and Mother Goose, too! Their fame is world-wide, and their friends not a few.

(Thanksgiving, Peace, and Plenty now take places near Father Christmas, while Happy New Year enters, carrying a bunch of keys. She is accompanied by two children, Hope and Good Resolutions.)

Father Christmas (rising to greet her): My dear daughter Happy New Year, we are glad to see you, with Hope and Good Resolutions looking so bright and well. Permit me to introduce my guests. (Mutual recognitions.)

Happy New Year:

With Good Resolutions quite close to my side, And sweet little Hope with me whate'er betide, I bring Father Christmas the bright golden keys That will open my door '98 with ease.

Hope and Good Resolutions (together): Good cheer, Mother Goose! Father Christmas, good cheer! We wish each and all of you happy New Year!

(Happy New Year and her children group themselves next to Thanksgiving. Enter Santa Claus, bustling about and shaking hands with everybody while speaking.)

Santa Claus:

What ho, Father Christmas! What ho, Mother Goose! At last from my Christmas-eve duties I'm loose. Not a stocking from north pole to south but I've filled, Books, candies, and toys by each mantlepiece spilled. My pack is quite empty, my reindeer done out, But on Christmas morning there'll be such a shout From the east to the west, from the south to the north, When their gifts from their stockings the children pull forth, That it's worth all my trouble—that hearty good cheer, "Hurrah! In the night Santa Claus has been here!" But, folks, I am hungry, I freely confess, So on to the dining-room now I will press. Roast turkey and cranberry sauce and mince pie Are there on the table, I saw passing by.

Father Christmas:

Now Santa has come, let the banquet be shared That for our reunion I've ordered prepared. To the dining-room we will adjourn, Mother Goose; (Takes her arm) Come, all the rest, follow—I'll take no excuse. Santa Claus, lead Thanksgiving; Jack, Happy New Year; Away now, my friends, to our good Christmas cheer!

(All go out, two by two, singing the following stanza to the air of "Upidee.")

All together:

1897:

I'm growing old and feeble, So much excitement's wrong; Folks should have had their Christmas When I was young and strong. Instead of that, they take it When I really ought to rest. My last days should be peaceful But—Father Time knows best And now I must be stirring, And call for Santa Claus; I almost dread his coming, There's always such a noise. The winds shall be my heralds— Come, North Wind, where are you? Just whisper to old Santa That here he'll soon be due. Now while I am about it, Perhaps it would be best To call that windy herald Whose home is in the west. (Enter South Wind) Here comes my daughter, South Wind.

South Wind:

I'm almost out of breath, I really fear the North Wind Intends to be my death.

1897:

I'll bid him treat you kindly; He should not be so rough; He's getting much too boisterous, I know that well enough. You're all here now but East Wind I'll call for him again.

Messenger (entering):

The East Wind says his health demands A little snow or rain.

1897:

Well, well, just tell the storm clouds To send us rain or snow.

(Snowflakes begin to fall, seen through a window,—cotton or bits of paper)

Well done! Now are you ready Upon your way to go? For some one must be bidding Knight Rupert come this way, To give the German children Their presents, Christmas day. And then there's old Babousca— In Russia she'll be found; Kriss Kringle and St. Nicholas, They, too, must both be round.

Heralds:

We know where each one liveth, Full soon they shall appear. We go to do your bidding. Farewell, farewell, Old Year. (Exit Heralds. Enter Fairies)

1897:

Bless me! what little people! (Speaks to first one.) Why, who are you, my dear? I ne'er before have seen you. What are you doing here?

Fairies:

Oh, we are little fairies From out the ether blue. Here is a Christmas posy We are bringing unto you. And the initial letters Will a starry chaplet make. Each trusts you will receive it, And wear it for her sake.

First Fairy (pointing to first leaf in chaplet):

	This is for Cypress.
Second Fairy:	And this for Holly.
Third Fairy:	And this for Rose of Jericho.
Fourth Fairy:	And this for Ivy.
Fifth Fairy:	And this for Speedwell.
Sixth Fairy:	And this for Thyme.
Seventh Fairy:	And this for Mistletoe.
Eighth Fairy:	And this for the quivering Aspen.
Ninth Fairy:	And this for Star of Bethlehem.

(They place chaplet upon the head of 1897.)

1897:

Here's thanks, my little people, For this your posy sweet; Your loving thought has surely Made my happiness complete.

(Enter Kriss Kringle, Santa Claus, Prince Rupert, and Babousca.)

Why here is old Kriss Kringle; And Santa's coming, too; Knight Rupert and Babousca, I welcome both of you. And from the frozen Northland, I see a-riding down The cheery old St. Nicholas, Clad in his friar's gown.

(Enter St. Nicholas.)

(Enter children, singing. They march around the stage, and finally stop in front of 1897 and the others.)

See how the children, so happy and gay, Come marching together this glad Christmas day.

Children:

With hands on our heads, while the bells sweetly chime, All blithely we're keeping the glad Christmas time. Marching and singing, so gayly we go, Turning and winding in lines to and fro. Clap all together, and sing, sing away, So merrily keeping this glad Christmas day.

1897:

Oh, children, little children, You're welcome here alway; I'm glad to see you coming To keep our Christmas day. (Bells outside.) Oh, children, little children, Why do the joy-bells chime?

(Singing heard outside. The following words, to the tune of "Ring, Ye Happy Christmas Bells.")

Carol, O ye children all, With no thought of sadness; Welcome in the Christmas time With your songs of gladness. Chorus—Sing, O sing, Bells all ring, Let us now be merry, Let us welcome Christmas day With our songs so cheery.

1897:

Hark, how the winds are blowing, What music do they bring.

Children:

You hear the little children Their Christmas carols sing.

1897:

O children, little children, What light is that afar?

Children:

'Tis shining from the heavens, A glorious Christmas star.

1897:

O children, little children, What means its glorious rays? And why is Christmas better Than many other days?

Children:

Oh, don't you know the story Of the first Christmas time? Then listen, we will tell it, While the bells so sweetly chime.

First child:

We count the years by hundreds Since that first Christmas day. When in a lowly manger The little Christ-child lay.

Second child:

That night some shepherds tending Their flocks upon the hill, Heard heavenly voices singing, "Peace, peace! On earth, good will."

Third child:

All bright as noon-tide splendor. A light about them shone, While louder sang the angels, "A Saviour hath been born!"

Fourth child:

And then a sudden darkness— The voices died away, The wondering shepherds hurried To where the young Child lay.

Fifth child:

Their flocks were all untended, While filled with love and awe, They bent above the manger And the Baby Jesus saw.

Sixth child:

Then, too, the wise men watching Beheld a star that shone, In the blue heavens above them To tell that Christ was born.

Seventh child:

And with their camels laden With spices and gold. They came from eastern countries The young King to behold.

Eighth child:

The star still went before them, And pointing out the way, It shone upon the stable Where the Babe of Bethlehem lay

Ninth child:

And then, all lowly bending, They worshipped the young King, And gave him from their treasures Full many an offering.

Santa Claus, St. Nicholas, Kriss Kringle, etc.:

O children we have numbered Long centuries since then, But we see at every Christmas That little Child again. And we bring to all good children In memory of that time, Some pretty Christmas present, While the joy-bells gayly chime.

1897:

O children, little children, I soon must pass away, But 'tis good to have the memory Of this blessed Christmas day.

Santa Claus and others:

We, too, must now be going. And as we march along, O let us sing together A happy Christmas song.

(All march out singing. Tune "Yankee Doodle.")

O the merry Christmas time Now is in the way, sir, Ev'ry sweet and happy chime Tells of Christmas day, sir. Chorus.— Christmas it is coming, now, Don't you hear the bells, sir? Happy Christmas time is here, To the world we tell, sir.

In the ghostly light I'm sitting, musing of long dead Decembers, While the fire-clad shapes are flitting in and out among the embers On my hearthstone in mad races, and I marvel, for in seeming I can dimly see the faces and the scenes of which I'm dreaming.

There is a story told of a magician who conjured up a garden in the winter time. The wand of the wizard, however, is not necessary to disclose even in a northern climate in the cold months the beautiful contents of Nature's world. The varieties of evergreen, pine, hemlock, fir, cedar, and larch provide a variety of green foliage through the dreary weather. The rich, clustering berries, besides their ornamental character, furnish food for the snowbirds. The Christmas rose, wax-like in its white purity, will bloom out of doors long after frost if a glass is turned over the plant on cold nights. The ivy remains glossy, its green berry another addition to our winter bouquet.

Farther south, but still within our United States, the scarlet holly grows in luxuriance. So full of holiday association is this tree that its branches are carefully transported a thousand miles for use during Christmas week. Its crisp leaves, lively color, and happy sentiment make the holly, pre-eminent as a winter ornament, prince in our Christmas garden.

A contrast is furnished by the delicate sprays of the mistletoe growing upon the limbs of the oak, elm, and apple trees. The white berry attaches itself, curiously enough, without roots of any kind, and becomes an enduring plant.

Even under the pressure of battle the influence of the Christmas season has exerted a powerful effect. In 1428, during the war of the roses, while Orleans was under siege, the English lords, history tells us, requested the French commanders to suspend hostilities, and let the usual celebration of Christmas eve take their place. This was agreed to, and the air was filled with the song of the minstrels and the music of trumpets, instead of the discordant sounds of battle.

The court celebrations of Christmas were observed with great splendor during the reign of King Charles the First. The royal family, with the lords and ladies, often took part themselves in the performances, and the cost to prepare costumes and sceneries for one occasion often amounted to ten thousand dollars. During Charles's reign, and preceding his, Ben Jonson wrote the plays, or masques, for Christmas. The court doings were, of course, copied outside by the people, and up to the twelfth night after Christmas, sports and feastings held high carnival.

So important were these Christmas court celebrations held by our ancestors, and of such moment were the preparations, that a special officer was appointed to take them in charge. To him were accorded large privileges, very considerable appointments, and a retinue equal to a prince's, counting in a chancellor, treasurer, comptroller, vice-chamberlain, divine, philosopher, astronomer, poet, physician, master of requests, clown, civilian, ushers, pages, footmen, messengers, jugglers, herald, orator, hunters, tumblers, friar, and fools. Over this mock court the mock monarch presided during the holidays with a reign as absolute as the actual monarch.

Children come skipping in, singing:

The children then form a semi-circle on the stage, and each one steps to the front as she gives her recitation, and then back to her place again.

(Air: "Whist, whist, whist! Here Comes the Bogie Man!")

(Enter Frip dramatically L.)

Frip: Whist!

Brownies: Frip! (All prostrate themselves, touching ground with their foreheads.)

Frip: The deed is done! The scullions all are packing!

Brownies: Oh, noble Frip!

Tip: How did you manage it?

Frip (seating himself on arm of chair. Brownies sit on floor centre, facing him, sideface to audience): I bellowed so—Oooooooh!!!! (groans) and tweaked their ugly noses, and whispered through the keyhole, "Wait till you guard the Christmas pie to-night!" until they all fled shivering to the cook, to give him notice! And now none will be left to guard the pie!

Brownies: 'Tis ours! 'Tis ours! (Brownies rub themselves delightedly.)

Frip: Hush! Now the kitchenmaid and cooklet come, to make all ready for his highness the head cook! We must leave them in peace until the pie is made! But then—

Brownies: We'll steal it! (Singing.)

(They dance off R. Music changes to a bright march. Enter the Kitchenmaid and Cooklet. The Kitchenmaid is a short, fat, rosy, brisk little girl. The Cooklet is a lanky, lazy, sentimental-looking girl. The Kitchenmaid carries pasteboard, with pie-disk, rolling-pin, basin of pastry, mince meat, etc., and enters staggering under her burden. The Cooklet carries a small basin with three apples and a knife, and eats apples as she peels them.)

Kitchen: Oh, my eye and Betty Martin! What a pie we're going to make to-night! Now look sharp, Cooklet, and peel the apples, for the head cook will be here in half a minute, and the Princess, too, to give the final stir-about; and if things aren't ready for her, we shall have our heads chopped off. Oh, dearie, dearie, dearie, dear! (Takes apples from Cooklet and peels them briskly.)

Cooklet (sitting on stool, yawning): Ah, it's all very well for the Princess! Nothing to do but eat and sleep all day. I wish I were she!

Kitchen: My word! I thank my stars I'm not! There she sits all day with those stuck-up ladies, who rule her and fool her and manage her and bully her till she can't call her soul her own! And all the nice young princes who come riding to the castle are sent away without getting so much as a peep at her, because her ladies are so afraid she'll marry one, and then their turned-up noses would be out of joint!

Cooklet: They tell the princes that the Princess is too weary to be troubled with them!

Kitchen: Trouble, indeed! She'd find it no trouble to choose a sweetheart from those nice young men if she were allowed to see them, but she'll never do that, if her ladies have a word in the matter! (Furious talking outside.)

Kitchen: Oh dearie, dearie, dearie, dear! If it isn't the head cook! And oh, my stars, what's happened?

(Enter Head Cook, angrily. Kitchenmaid and Cooklet both stand trembling with fright.)

Head Cook: Nevaire did I hear such impertinence. Who has gone, do you sink? Who has packed up their traps and left me to-night—to-night of all nights! Ze night I make ze Christmas pie! Ze night ze Princess comes with all her ladies to give ze final stir-about! Who? Vat? Ven? Vy? Vy?? vy???

Cooklet and Kitchen (falling on their knees, clasping their hands entreatingly): O sir, pray calm yourself!

Head Cook (dancing about with rage, and shouting): Calm! I am nevaire so perfectly calm in my life! My scullions have gone! Zey vill not vatch ze pie! Because zey fear ze Brownies!

Kitchen: The scullions gone?

Cooklet: Then who's to guard it?

Head Cook: You—of course—you earthworms!

Both: O dear, kind cook, we daren't! (They grovel with fear.)

Head Cook (thunderously): Daren't?

Cooklet: We're afraid of the dark!

Kitchen: And oh, we're afraid of the Brownies!

Head Cook: Afraid—afraid—but vat is zere to be afraid? If ze Brownies come, you have only to sprinkle zem with ze magical red pepper!

Cooklet: I should faint directly I saw them!

Kitchen: O dear, good, handsome, gentle cook, please don't leave us alone down here to-night!

Head Cook (almost speechless with rage): But vat you vant? Do you mean to say—you—vant—Me—so gr-r-r-reat—so gr-r-rand—so mightiful—Me—Chief Head Cook—you vant zat I should keep my eyes avake all night—ven I have a kitchenmaid and cooklet to suffaire for me? Is zat vat you mean, heh?

(They nod sheepishly.)

Cooklet: You're a man!

Head Cook: Me—a man! Vat nonsense! I am cook! You have ze most enormous cheek I've ever hit upon! Bah! (Hits them with rolling-pin.) Get up—you cr-r-r-rawling caterpillars! (Knock at the door; they scream.) Vat! now you make a noise, you squeaking beetles!

Kitchen: There's some one at the door. (They stand trembling.)

Cooklet: Oh, it sounds like a man!

Head Cook (excitedly): A man—my scullions—they have retur-r-rned to me!

Cooklet: The scullions! Saved! (Runs to door R; opens it.)

Kitchen: Oh, it's only a beggar! Be off! (About to shut door.)

Prince (outside): Nay, mistress, I come in search of work!

(Enter Prince Fairasday, disguised in ragged tunic. He is red-haired, and very handsome.)

Cooklet: Work! O sir, here is a scullion for you!

Head Cook: Tut, tut, tut! Zat is for me to say, impertinence! You may come in, young man. (Prince comes down stage. Cook seats himself importantly at table.) Now! Why have you come so late to ask for work?

Prince: I lost my way in the forest.

Cook: Sir! Say, "Sir" ven you spik to me if you do not say "Most Royal Sir." Vatever you like—but do be respectful.

Prince (furious): Sir!!!!!

Head Cook: Zat is better—

Prince: Nay—sir—I—meant—

Head Cook: It does not matter vat you mean so long as you say, "Sir." Now answer, if you wish for a place here! You do—eh?

Prince: Why—why, yes!

Head Cook: Ver' good. Zen vere is your last place?

Prince: I lived in the castle of Prince Fairasday—(Cook raps on table, annoyed.) Eh?

Head Cook (shouting furiously): Sir!

Prince: Oh—oh, yes, I beg your pardon (humbly, laughing), sir.

Head Cook: Vell, zen, I must know vy you leave.

Prince: Why—sir—my master has fallen in love with the Princess Fadeaway—and so I thought I would come and see what sort of a princess she was—for my master in his love-sick fever is sad company for any one.

Head Cook: But if he is so in lof, vy does not your master come to woo the Princess?

Prince: Why, sir (bowing), he had heard of too many who had been denied admittance, and as my master is proud and determined, he made up his mind he would not risk being turned away like the others. But, sir, if you will let me stay and work for you, in whatever post, however humble, I promise you if my answers do not satisfy, my service shall.

Head Cook: You are villing—ah, but zey all say that. H'm—let me see what you can do. Vash up these. (Points to dirty plates.)

Prince: Those! Why, that is scullion's work!

Head Cook: Yes, and there is a scullion's place all ready.

Prince (indignantly): A scullion! I had meant a place with horses—in the garden—where I might work out-of-doors.

Kitchen: O dear, kind young man, pray, pray do not speak like that.

Cooklet: Oh, we beseech you, take the place! (Both fall on knees before him.)

Prince: Why, what's the matter?

Kitchen: If there's no scullion here we have to guard the Christmas pie, and if we guard the pie we d-d-die!

Prince: What danger threatens you?

Both: The Brownies!

Prince: Brownies! What are Brownies?

Head Cook: Vy, vat sort of kitchen have you lived in, if you have never seen ze Brownies?

Prince: Oh, I was more like a friend than a page to my master, sir, and the fact is, I've never been in a kitchen before. Er—what are Brownies?

(Brownies cackle with laughter outside.)

Head Cook: Zey are ze evilest leetle beasts in all ze vorld! Venever you sink you are rid of zem, zere zey are at your elbow. (Brownies laugh again.) Vey steal, zey pinch, zey poke, zey pry, and at night, ven all ze house is still, zey come out, and if you do not keep your eyes ver' wide awake zey vill pinch you till you die—zat is, ven you guard the Christmas pie.

Prince: I? Oh, this pleasant little job is meant for me—me? I thank you, sir? (Indignantly takes up his cap, preparing to go.)

Head Cook: Not so fast, young man. Zey will come, yes; zey vill try to steal, yes—but zere is vun sing zat vill send them avay quick—slick—like zat. It is—RED PEPPER!

Prince: Red Pepper! How dare you call me that?

Head Cook: Eh?

Prince: Who told you I was called Red Pepper?

Head Cook: You?

Prince: Why, yes. Did you not mean me?

Head Cook: Why no. I mean red pepper, from the pepper-pot (taking it off shelf).

Prince: Strange, for that's the name by which I'm known among my people. Why—sir—how can red pepper help me against the Brownies.

DUET (Cook and Prince).

(Air: "There Lived a King, as I've Been Told."—The Gondoliers.)

(A dance can be arranged here with Prince, Cook, Kitchenmaid and Cooklet.)

Kitchen: Ah, sir, you will be brave and take the place?

Cooklet: Oh, yes, dear, brave, kind handsome man! Say, "Yes," and calm our fluttering hearts!

Kitchen: For if we saw a Brownie we should only scream!

Cooklet: And die!

Prince: Why, then, if there's no choice save between myself and you poor maids, why—I must do it. So, sir, I'll guard your pie to-night.

Cooklet: O dear, good, kind young man!

Kitchen: O noble, bold young man! (Both kneel gratefully.)

Head Cook: Get up, I say, get up! You kneel to me—not to zis beggar fellow! And you, sir, get these dishes washed quick, slick, for here ze Princess Fadeaway is coming with her ladies!

Prince: The Princess coming! (He is agitated.)

Head Cook: Yes. Every Christmas night she comes to pat ze crust wiz her own fair fingers!

Prince: Then I shall see her!

Head Cook: Yes—but you need not let zat discompose you—she vill not notice you. It is only to me she vill spik! Because I am Head Cook! I am like royalty—only more so. She comes—she comes—let each be in your place! Now bow, all bow!

(A graceful march played. Enter Princess Fadeaway, attended by Greening and Sweeting. The Princess is a sweet-voiced, gentle little girl. Her ladies are gorgeously attired, and walk and talk in a disagreeable, affected manner.)

Head Cook: Welcome, Princess; the pie awaits your pleasure!

Princess: Good! (She comes to the table, sees Prince, who starts, and drops dishes. He stands staring at her; does not pick dishes up.)

Princess: Why—who is this strange gentleman—

Head Cook (shocked): Hush—hush—Your Highness, it is only the new scullion!

Princess (amazed): Scullion!

Greening: O Princess, how could you take that ragged creature for a gentleman?

Sweeting: I think he looks too fierce for safety. Look how the jackanapes eyes Your Highness!

Princess: He is, indeed, in sorry plight.

Prince: Sorry, indeed, if my rags offend Your Highness—

Greening: Address yourself to us, fellow! 'Tis not for such as you to speak to the Princess!

Prince: Nay, I am in her service, ladies, and it is her I answer if she desires to question me!

Greening: Insolent! I'd have him put in the stocks.

Sweeting: Or whipped at the whipping-post!

Princess: Peace, ladies! I would hear him. How is it you are not in my livery, if you are in my service?

Prince: I have but just this moment reached the castle. I have been traveling in the forest, where the wolves and brambles alike delayed me.

Princess: The wolves? Oh, they have hurt you

Ladies (trying to stop her): Your Highness!

Princess: But see—his wrist is bleeding. I am sure it hurts you! Let me bind it for you (to Prince).

Greening: Princess! how can you stoop to touch a scullion?

Sweeting: Your Highness is strangely forgetting yourself!

Princess: Nay, ladies, it is you who forget yourselves!

DUET (Princess and Prince).

(Air, "When We Are Married."—Belle of New York.)

(The Princess binds up his wrist up stage.)

Greening (furiously to Head Cook): How did you come to engage such a scurvy-looking fellow?

Head Cook: Of a truth, madame, I vould not have done so, madame, but my scullions have all gone, and I had none to guard ze Christmas pie to-night!

Sweeting: The Christmas pie!

Head Cook: Yes, madame, from ze Brownies. He has consent, now I have told him of ze pepper-pot.

Greening: The pepper-pot! You may go, fellow!

(The Cook retires up back, annoyed; bullies Kitchenmaid and Cooklet, R. Prince and Princess center, making pie. Prince helps her. Head Cook furious.)

Greening: Listen, I have an idea! That man is no scullion!

Sweeting: No scullion?

Greening: I am sure of it! See how he holds himself! How easily he talks with the Princess! I believe he is some prince who has made his way into the castle in disguise—

Sweeting: Yes, look! His sword peeps out beneath his rags! When did a scullion ever wear a sword? Oh, what are we to do?

Greening: I told you I had an idea. (To dresser.) He is to watch the pie to-night! We'll take the pepper-pot!

Sweeting: But they'll see us!

Greening: Not if you stand before me!

(Sweeting stands before Greening, holding out her dress while Greening reaches down pepper-pot from dresser.)

Greening: Now when the Brownies come, he'll find his sword will be of little use! See, let us make the Princess come, or she will talk all night!

Sweeting: Your Highness—

Greening: Your Highness!

Sweeting: If Your Highness is quite finished, I pray that Your Highness will not tarry longer in this odious kitchen! The heat is overpowering!

Greening: And I could never stand the smell of raw pastry!

Sweeting: So if Your Highness has quite finished—

Princess (regretfully): Oh, dear, I suppose I must go then! And you will guard the pie to-night! You are sure you are not afraid!

Prince: Afraid! Of course not! If the Brownies come I have the pepper-pot!

Greening (vindictively, aside, and holding the pepper-pot): Have you. (To Princess) Princess, I faint for want of sleep!

Sweeting: And I expire! (Yawning) I droop—I yawn!

Princess: Yes, I see you do! As you're so sleepy, I must consider you and go to bed (sighing). But oh, I shall be glad when morning comes (to Prince), and I am sure you're safe again!

(Graceful march again played. The Princess goes out, followed by ladies; she turns at door, and looks at Prince and sighs, then exit followed by Greening and Sweeting. The Prince stands gazing after her.)

Head Cook: Come, come, come, young man; 'tis time the lights were out and other folk in bed besides Her Highness! And if, instead of staring after her, you'd lend a hand and set the kitchen straight, it would be more seemly.

(Cook, Kitchenmaid and Cooklet bustle about, putting cooking things away from table, leaving only pie.)

Prince (dreamily): Eh? Did you speak?

Head Cook: Shall I tell you what it is? Your head is turned right around! When royalty speaks to me, do I swell out? No! I know my place! I take no notice! But you—you are nosing but a crawling—snail!

Prince: Why, sir, I've been engaged to guard the Christmas pie, and not to listen to your rating, so the sooner you are off to bed the better am I pleased!

(Lights candles and hands them to Cooklet and Kitchenmaid.)

Head Cook (furious, spluttering with rage): Vat—vat—vat—how dare you?

Kitchenmaid: O dear, good, kind young man, how can we leave you? (Both tearfully fall on knees.)

Cooklet: Oh, pray, dear, good young man, be careful.

Kitchen: Yes, dashing, bold young man—don't—don't be careless! (Both howl loudly).

Head Cook: Hussies! Arise! You concern yourselves much too much for zis young man! I cannot sink why so much notice should be taken of a scullion! Yes! (To Prince.) 'Twere better fit I should have told your tale unto Her Highness; and if she questioned you, it was for you to bow and say, "My gr-r-racious master, ze Head Cook, vill spik for me!" In future—please—r-r-remember! (Exit, with dignity, followed by Kitchenmaid and Cooklet. The Brownies cackle with laughter outside. The stage is now dark, lit only by firelight.)

Prince: And so my lady sleeps above, and I am in the kitchen, her humblest scullion! Well, at least I have the chance to serve her now, and guard the dainty pie her dainty fingers touched! (Brownies cackle outside.) What's that? The rats, perhaps, that scutter in the wainscot. Still, if the Brownies come, I'd best have the pepper-pot. If they come—there's little fear of that! I've never seen a Brownie, and what I've never seen, I own, I've little faith in. (Yawning, sitting in armchair.) Well, as I'm to stay all night here, I might as well make myself at ease! (Yawning again.) Oh, dear; I'm very sleepy. (Stretches himself.)

SONG.

(Air: "Little Dolly Daydream.")

(Prince sleeps in armchair. Soft music outside. Enter Brownies, mysteriously, to the air: "Whist! whist! whist!")

(They surround Prince. He wakes.)

Prince: Why, what's this? (Rising) The Brownies! Where's the pepper-pot! (To dresser) Gone! (Brownies cackle.)

(Brownies dance about impishly.)

DUET (Prince and Brownies).

(Air: "There Lived a King."—The Gondoliers.)

(Brownies scream, and are about to run off as enter Princess R. with pepper-pot.)

Prince: Princess! What brings you here?

Princess: They took the pepper-pot away from you! I found it underneath my ladies' pillow, because they sneezed so much it wakened me. But, oh, I see you have not needed it!

Brownies: Oh, no, no, no! Pray, do not pepper us! (Brownies turn and kneel to Princess imploringly.)

Prince: And you came to save me?

Princess: Is it not my duty to protect my scullions?

Prince: Princess, I am no scullion (throws off ragged cloak.) This was a disguise to help me gain admittance to your castle! It was the only way in which I could find a means to woo you. But my name's Prince Fairasday—or, if you like, or as my servants say—Red Pepper. Am I forgiven?

Princess: Oh, yes, indeed you are! (He embraces her.) In the strictest confidence I don't mind telling you I'm longing to be married and get away from all these girls!

Prince: Then we'll be married in the morning!

Princess: As soon as you like—Oh (screams), my ladies! Look, they're coming!

(Enter Sweeting, Greening, Kitchenmaid, Cooklet and Head Cook, in nightgowns and nightcaps, with candles. Stage light. The candles may be blown out. Prince and Princess stand in center; Brownies kneel before them humbly, backs to audience; Head Cook, Kitchenmaid and Cooklet, R. of Princess and Prince. Greening and Sweeting disgusted L.)

FINALE. Cook, Kitchenmaid, Cooklet, Sweeting, Greening (as they enter):

(CURTAIN.)

(For fourteen little ones. Each has a large card, his letter printed on it in bright colors. As he recites, he holds it up in plain view, but drops it to his side at the close of his recitation. S takes his place to the Right, the others following in the order here given until a straight line is formed.)

(All now stand close together and hold their letters at the same height. Then the following lines may be given in concert or spoken by the leader [S] alone.)

Then beginning at the the left, each child may name his letter—