Suggested by a story in St. Nicholas for December, 1880, by S.J. Prichard.[21]

ACT I

Time: Evening of December 18th.

Scene: Kitchen in Mistress Goodspeede's cottage, a simple and bare little room. Open fireplace[22] [R.], with exit beside it supposed to lead to loft. Back R., door; L., window, opening upon a desolate winter scene. L., door, leading to another chamber. Down L., a spinning-wheel. Furniture, a few plain chairs and stools, and a settle. By the window a table where little Prudence and Patience are washing the supper dishes. Patience stands upon a stool in order to reach the dishpan more easily, Prudence wipes the dishes and lays them on the table.

Patience [severely]. Prudence, if thee's not very careful, I know thee'll drop the platter!

Prudence. Oh, no! Patience, I'm being very careful. I wouldn't let it drop for anything. It's Mother's very best platter, too.

Patience. And if thee broke it, who knows if dear Mother could ever get a new one? She hath told me many a time she brought it with her from Old England, and she saith the like cannot be found here—even in Boston town.

Prudence [gives it an admiring look, then lays it cautiously on the table]. I'm sure it's the most beautiful platter that ever was seen. Are there many more dishes, Patience, dear?

Patience [in a motherly tone]. No. Poor little maid, I fear me thou'rt very weary. Here—just these cups, and I'll help thee. [Gets down from stool and helps to wipe one or two cups.] Where are the boys, I wonder? You and I, Prudence, can never, never reach to put the dishes away on the shelf.

Prudence. No, but brother Roger or Myles can do it. Mother says they grow like tall weeds.

Patience. And the parson says they are brave striplings. [Sighs.] I would I were tall and strong. Then I should never be afraid of——

Prudence [looks fearfully over her shoulder]. Afraid of what, Patience?

Patience [putting her arm around Prudence]. Oh, never mind, Prudence, dear, not afraid of, of—anything.

Prudence [pushes her back and shakes her finger], I know, Patience, thee was going to say—Indians! Oh, Patience, doesn't thee wish Mother'd come home? [Lays her head on Patience's shoulder. Myles and Nathan pass the window.]

Patience. Never mind, sister, here come Myles and Nathan. [Enter the boys.] Myles, has thee seen Roger?

Nathan. Roger has gone to fetch our Mother home.

Prudence [going to table]. Oh, Myles, won't thee please put the dishes up for us? Patience and I are far too little. [Nathan and Prudence carry dishes one at a time to Myles, who puts them on mantel. Patience wrings out her dishcloth.]

Myles. Where is Mother, Patience?

Patience. Mistress Submit Wells hath a fever, and after supper Mother went to see if there was aught she could do to help.

Nathan [looking out of the window]. I see Mother and Roger coming up the hill now.

Patience. Quick, Nathan! Empty the pan for us! [Patience opens the door for Nathan, who carries pan out. Patience hangs up dishcloth in haste.] Mother must find everything neat when she comes.

[Re-enter Nathan, putting pan in cupboard
or under table.

Myles [mockingly]. Thou art a great housewife, Patience.

Prudence [joyfully]. Here they are!

[Enter Mother and Roger. Prudence,
Patience, and Nathan gather about her
while she takes off her cape and follow her
to the door (L.) when she puts it away.
Roger, hanging up his hat, goes to fire.

Patience. How did thee find Mistress Wells, Mother?

Mother. Much better to-night, daughter.

Prudence [catching at her skirts]. Thou'lt not go back, then, Mother?

Mother. No, little Prudence, not to-night.

Roger. It's fearsome cold out. Do stir the fire, Myles. [Warms his hands, while Myles stirs fire.]

Nathan. Then come sit down with us by the fire, Mother. Thee surely won't work any more to-night?

Mother. I am willing, Nathan, but I must be knitting. With three great lads who wear out so many stockings, I am kept more than busy, even if the good parson did not exhort us never to be idle. [Exit and re-enter with knitting.]

Patience [drawing up her Mother's chair and arranging stools]. Here, Mother, here's thy big chair. Prudence and I will get our stools. Oh, Roger, do get out of the way! Make haste! Thee's such a giant thee'll block the firelight out entirely.

[Roger gets up and stands before the fire,
while the Mother sits down, Prudence
beside her with a corncob doll and Patience
at her knee, also knitting. Myles
sits with his back against the chimney and
Nathan lies at full length before the fire.

Roger [good-humoredly]. What a pity thee didn't name that child Impatience, Mother. It would become her so much better.

Mother [while Patience bends her face low over her knitting]. Does thee think it would make it any easier for her to be good, Roger?

Roger. Well, I'm glad thou gavest us good sober English names. I'm sure 'twould never help me to be good if I had been named Hate-Evil, like Elder Hopkins' son. Think of it—Hate-Evil Hopkins!

Myles. And if Father had called me Love-the-Truth or Have-Courage, instead of naming me after our fine Captain Standish, I know I never would have tried half so hard to be brave and truthful.

Mother. That was what Father cared for, Myles, whatever thy name might have been.

Roger. One of us is fitly named, at any rate, Mother, and that is thyself, Mistress Delight Goodspeede! [Bows.]

Patience. Yes, Mother is our Delight.

Myles. And everybody's else, too.

Mother [laughing]. Take care, children, you will make me vain, and then the parson will preach a whole sermon about vanity, and call out in the midst of it, "Delight Goodspeede, stand forth!"

Roger. How terrible! [All laugh.]

Nathan. He calleth vanity a light and shallow thing, but I'll warrant me he would turn his hour-glass at the least four times while he discoursed upon it.

Myles. More terrible still!

[All laugh again. A knock at the door.
Roger goes to answer it, Nathan sits up
with interest, and Prudence, who has been
walking her corncob doll up and down,
rushes to her Mother's chair.

Roger [his hand on the lock]. Who knocks?

Indian [without]. Eaglefeather!

Roger [turning to his Mother]. Mother, 'tis the Indian boy you helped when he was wounded last winter. May I let him in?

Mother. He hath always been friendly. Open for him, Roger.

Roger [opening the door]. Come in, Eaglefeather! Thou'rt right welcome.

[Enter Indian, bow in hand. Myles and
Nathan go to him.

Mother. What does he want, Roger? Mayhap he is hungry.

Roger [pointing to his mouth]. Hungry, Eaglefeather? Want something to eat? Bread?

Indian [shakes his head]. No hungry. Braves go hunt. [Draws his bow.] Kill much, much, much deer. [Spreads out his arms.] No hungry; cold. [Folds his arms and shivers.] Can warm? [Boys bring him to fire.]

Mother. Yes, indeed; make room for him, boys.

Myles. He can stay as long as he likes, mayn't he, Mother?

Mother [smiles and nods at the boy]. Yes, we know he is our friend. We trust him.

Nathan. Doesn't thee remember how he taught us to shoot, and make baskets for thee and the girls?

Indian. Hmph! Eaglefeather teach young brave much more some day. Many, many new thing.

Nathan. Oh, that is good news. What things, Eaglefeather?

Indian. Eaglefeather not tell. Eaglefeather show, to-morrow. Tired now. March long, long time.

Mother. Yes, poor lad. Let him rest now, boys.

[Indian lies before fire, Roger and Myles
as before, Nathan behind Mother's chair.

Roger. Thou'rt always the one to think of making folks comfortable, Mother. What would Mistress Wells say if she saw Eaglefeather here now?

Myles. He never would be beside her kitchen fire.

Nathan. Not if he was frozen stiff.

Mother. For shame, boys; Mistress Wells hath been very kind to us.

Patience. I think she is a very sour-visaged woman, and I can't see why thee wants to help her.

[Mother gazes thoughtfully into the fire.

Roger [watching her]. I know what Mother is thinking of!

Mother. Tell us, then, Roger, if thou be a wizard.

Roger. Mother is thinking that in Old England this is Yule-tide——

Mother. Verily, I believe thou art a wizard, Roger, for thou'st guessed aright!

Myles and Nathan. Tell us about the Yule-tide, Mother.

Prudence. Is this the Christmas day, Mother?

Roger. No, Prudence. It's the twenty-fifth that is Christmas. Isn't it, Mother?

Myles. Just a week from to-day?

Mother. Yes, children, just a week from to-day it will be Christmas in Old England.

Patience. But why did Mistress Wells make thee think of Christmas?

Mother. 'Twas what Myles said about Mistress Wells and Eaglefeather here. 'Twas because Christmas in my father's home in Old England was the time of all others when people did kind and friendly deeds, when poor folks came to the houses of rich men without fear of being driven away, and our homes were open to all who needed food and warmth.

Prudence [wonderingly]. Why, then, Mother, I think it must have been like heaven!

Nathan. Mother, doesn't thee sometimes wish we were all back in England once more?

Mother [earnestly]. Never wish that, my son.

Myles. Not after all the bitter cold winters and hardships here, Mother?

Mother. 'Tis the very hardships we have endured that will build up a new and better England for us here, Myles—— But the Old Christmas was a happy time.

[Eaglefeather, who has been sleeping, sits
up, and from this point listens intently.

Roger. Won't thee tell us more about it, then?

Mother. I've told thee many times already, Roger, how the great Yule-log was brought in and lighted on Christmas Eve—such a monster log that it would burn until Twelfth Night. We always saved a bit of it, then, to light the next year's log. The old folks said that was for luck. All the young folks went out into the forest to gather the Christmas greens, holly, mistletoe, and long festoons of ground pine for wreaths. Ah, it was merry work, and the great hall in my father's house was a brave sight when we had decked it in the green. And on Christmas day we had our Christmas bough covered with shining candles and bright gifts for each other.

Prudence. How beautiful, Mother!

Mother. And we were awakened at dawning by the poor children of the village singing their joyous carols beneath our windows.

Myles. How I wish I could hear them!

Roger. The singing in our meeting on the Sabbath isn't very joyful, is it, Myles?

Myles. Beshrew me if 'tis. This is the way the elders and deacons stand and sing. [Myles and Roger stand side by side, eyes closed and hands folded before them, droning an old psalm tune.][23]

Tune: "Windsor."

Mother [rising]. Roger and Myles, silence! I will not have this wicked mocking of our good elders. Haven't you heard the parson tell the story of how the bears ate the children who mocked Elisha?

Roger. Forgive us, Mother, we meant no disrespect.

Myles. But, verily, the sound of the singing maketh me almost as sad as the sight of the bears could.

Nathan. But, Mother, why do the good fathers never allow us to have a Christmas?

Roger. There can be no wrong in the things thou'st told us. Peace and good will and neighborliness.

Mother. But that was not all, Roger. With the feasting and merriment came much that the good Puritan Fathers did well to abolish.

Prudence [stands at Mother's knee]. But, Mother, isn't a birthday always a happy day? [Mother nods and smiles.] Then I should think the Lord Christ's birthday would be the very happiest day of all, and the good parson would like to have us sing and be joyful and glad.

Mother [kisses her]. Thou'rt too little to understand it yet, my Prudence. [Rises.] Come, we have sat too long with our talking. If our candles are not soon out, the tithing-man will be tapping at our door and reproving us. [Leads the two little girls and Nathan to door (L.)]. Come, children. Myles, see that the fire is safe. Roger, is the door fast? [Myles and Roger attend to the fire and the door.]

Indian. Must Eaglefeather go now?

Mother. Does thee think, lad, that savage though thou art, I would drive thee out into the bitter night? No, there is too much Yule-tide in our hearts for that! I have no bed for thee, but lay thee down by the fire and welcome. [Begins to wind the clock.] Boys, bring in some straw for a bed—— Stay a moment. Straw will not do. A chance spark from the fire might light it, and burn the house above our heads. There is an old mat in the shed without. See if you can find it.

[Exeunt all three boys; Mother takes down
candles from mantel and slowly extinguishes
one; holds the other in her hand, absently
snuffing it. Stands facing audience.

Mother [musingly]. I told little Prudence she was too young to understand, yet with my years, am I quite sure that I understand it myself? No, the good Fathers can never crush and kill the loving Christmas spirit. [Enter boys, quietly arranging mat, on which Indian stretches himself. Roger goes to fasten door.] Why should little children not be joyous and glad on the holy day? Why should not I help them to celebrate it? [Hesitates, then firmly and decidedly.] I believe—I will do it! Boys, come here. [Boys come to her side. Reuben Turner and Gershom Porter pass window, glance in curiously, then bend close, listening to all that is said.] Roger, what would thee and Myles say to a Christmas bough of our very own?

Myles. Oh, Mother!

Roger. Does thee mean truly, Mother?

Mother. Of a truth I do mean it, Roger.

Roger. But, Mother, they will persecute thee——

Myles. And drive us all into the wilderness——

Roger. And with Father away on his ship, who could take care of thee?

Mother. I have come into one wilderness before, Myles. I am not afraid.

Roger. But how can we do it, Mother?

Mother. I will go up to Boston town to-morrow—I can easily walk there and back again before 'tis dusk—and buy what little things I may for gifts. I hear that a ship has but now come into port.

Myles. Doesn't thee wish it was Father's vessel, Roger?

Roger. Then wouldn't we have a Christmas!

Mother. 'Twill be many a weary month before Father's ship returns, I fear. But whatever this bark may be, she hath surely brought some small trinkets that will do for us. I'll find them and bring them home with me. Then on the day before Christmas thou and Myles must go into the woods and cut a small evergreen, as perfect a one as you can find. At dark on Christmas Eve you can bring it home, and when the children are in bed we will dress it. Then, early on Christmas dawn, before the neighbors are stirring, we will light it and wake the little ones.

Roger. But, Mother, they will surely find us out!

Myles. That Reuben Turner is always spying upon us. And so is Gershom Porter. [Boys at window dodge below the sill.]

Roger. And, Mother, they think thou art only half a Puritan now, because thou canst sometimes smile and art not always stern and sour like the rest.

Myles. And they say thou art vain and frivolous because thou keep'st brazen fire-dogs and candlesticks instead of iron ones.

Roger. And dost not dress thy daughters in solemn black.

Mother [laughing]. Do they say so? What a list of sins! [Seriously.] With thee and Myles to help me I am not afraid. We will have our Christmas bough—no, not a bough, but a whole tree—if we needs must light it at midnight and cover the window with blankets! Now get quickly to bed in the loft. 'Tis shocking late!

[All turn to go, boys, R., Mother to door (L.).

Myles [running after her]. Mother, Mother! won't thee teach us some Christmas carols, some real joyful ones—so I can forget about those bears?

Mother. Yes, yes, Myles. Now go quickly. This shall be the first Christmas in New England.

CURTAIN

ACT II

Time: Before dawn of December 25th.

Scene: Same as before. Stage quite dark except for firelight. Window covered with a blanket. Lights high on one side at back to represent moonlight when door is opened. Enter Mother [L.] with a lighted candle. Goes to door [R.].

Mother [calling]. Roger! Myles! Make haste. [Looks at clock, arranges fire, examines blanket hurriedly.]

Myles [softly]. We're coming, Mother. [Enter Myles and Roger (R.).]

Roger. Are the others waked yet, Mother?

Mother. Yes, they are dressing. Quickly now, bring in the tree whilst I see if they need help. [Exit (L.), leaving candle on mantel. Boys open outer door.]

Roger. How cold it is. See, Myles, the moon hath not yet set.

Myles. Yes, yes. Come, Roger. [Disappear (L.).]

[Reuben Turner and Gershom Porter
at door, look cautiously in, then peer
around after the boys.

Reuben [softly]. I see naught of any Christmas bough.

Gershom. Yet we surely heard them planning—— How angry the parson would be. I believe he would even drive them away like the Quakers.

Reuben. My father bade me look and bring him word if what they said was true.

Gershom. Beshrew me, if they haven't covered the window so that none may see them.

[Myles and Roger heard returning with
exclamations "Have a care!" "Gently
now!" etc. Reuben and Gershom hide
themselves without. Enter Roger and
Myles with the tree already decked and
fastened in a small wooden box, which they
place in center of stage. Their backs
turned, Reuben and Gershom appear
again at door, hold up their hands in horror,
whisper together, and make signs of
caution. Watch until Mother appears,
then they vanish.

Myles. There: we got it in quite safely, Roger. Dost think the Christmas boughs in England could have been prettier?

Roger [at door]. Mother, we're ready now.

[Enter Mother, taking candle again.

Mother. Roger, Roger! shut the door at once, careless boy! Art mad? [Roger fastens door.] The children are nearly ready and grow impatient. Make torches, both of you, and help me to light the candles.

[Boys take splinters of wood from the fireplace
and all go about the tree, lighting
candles, arranging gifts more firmly, etc.,
while Patience and Prudence, without,
sing "Waken, Christian Children."

WAKEN, CHRISTIAN CHILDREN[24]

(From "Christmas Carols New and Old," Novello & Company.)

Nathan [without]. Can't we come now, Mother?

Mother. One moment, children!

Patience. It grows light, Mother. I'm afeared. Mustn't we hasten?

Mother. Presently, presently! Is all ready, Roger?

Myles. Yes, every candle.

Mother [going to door (L.)]. Come, now!

[Enter Nathan, Patience, and Prudence
(L.), the girls singing first verse of their song.

Patience [breaking off]. Oh, Mother!

Nathan. How beautiful!

Prudence. Oh, Mother, it feels like a dream!

Mother [bending over her and leading her near]. It is no dream, little daughter. Come near and see.

[Prudence timidly touches one branch with her finger.

Prudence [turning quickly and looking up to her Mother]. Oh! it is real!

Myles. Of course it is real. A real Christmas Tree.

Roger [folding his arms]. Now I feel like a real Englishman!

Nathan. Is this like the boughs thee remembers when thee was a little girl, Mother?

Mother. As much like as I could make it, Nathan. Except that I like this one even better.

Patience. Oh, see the pretty presents! Oh, did Eaglefeather make these lovely baskets for us?

Myles. Yes, and that's why he wouldn't let thee see what he was working on.

Nathan. But where is Eaglefeather, Myles?

Roger. We can't think where he is. He didn't come back last night.

Patience. Oh, I don't want him to miss it!

Myles. Hark! [A bob-white is heard without.] That's his whistle now.

Mother. Open cautiously, Myles.

[Myles and Roger open door a little and
close it as soon as the Indian has slipped
through. Patience and Prudence run
to draw him to the tree.

Patience. See, Eaglefeather! Just see our Christmas Tree!

Prudence. Isn't it beautiful, Eaglefeather?

Indian. Beautiful! Eaglefeather think like many stars! [Points to candles, then touches something shining.] Like sun shining on snow fields.

Myles. Now, Mother, can't we sing our carol?

Mother. Yes, Myles, and then it will be more than ever like Old England.

[All sing "Come Ye Lofty." At the end of
second verse a sound of great knocking,
shouting, and calls of "Open! Open!
Mistress Goodspeede." Patience and
Prudence hide behind their Mother,
Nathan stands at her side, Myles and
Roger seize sticks, and Eaglefeather
draws a small tomahawk.

Patience and Prudence. 'Tis Indians!

Roger. 'Tis no Indians, 'tis the colonists!

Myles. They've found us out!

[Noise continues.

Turner and Porter. Open! open there!

Mistress Wells. I see the light——

Desire Porter. It shines through the cracks here——

Dominie Cobb. Verily none need hope to conceal evil!

Turner [knocking louder]. Open! open!

Mistress Porter. Shut in like wolves——

Gershom. Yea—like wolves in a cage——

Reuben. I told thee the window was covered.

Jared. Mayhap the house is afire!

Elder Hopkins. Hold, friends! [Silence without.] Mistress Goodspeede, in the name of the Governor I command you to open for us!

Roger [looking to his Mother]. Must I, Mother?

Mother [huskily]. Open for them, Roger.

[Roger opens the door and all but Gilbert
Appleton press in. Chorus of scandalized
exclamations, "Oh, oh!"

Porter. What is the meaning of this, woman?

Dominie Cobb. Do not attempt to deceive us!

Turner. Answer.

Mistress Wells. She hath not a word to say for herself.

Mistress Porter. Ah! we always knew she was not one of the elect!

Reuben. And they have even one of the hateful savages with them!

Gershom. Who would harbor the wretches?

Desire [pulling her mother's sleeve]. But, Mother, see how pretty it all is!

Priscilla. Oh, the beautiful tree! And gifts, too!

Jane. I would it were my little tree. Doesn't thee wish so, Desire?

Dominie Cobb. Dost see, woman, how swiftly thy ungodly example doth work to corrupt these wenches?

Mistress Porter. Silence, Desire! [She and Mistress Wells try to hustle the children out of sight of the tree.]

Elder Hopkins. Speak, woman, and tell us the meaning of this.

Patience [timidly]. Please, sir, 'tis—'tis—'tis a Christmas Tree!

Porter. We knew it!

Turner. Aye, my son Reuben hath told us. He heard them speaking of it not a week since.

Porter. And Gershom, too—they have kept good watch upon these evil-doers.

Myles [angrily, to Reuben]. So thou wast listening at the window. Sneak!

Reuben [blustering]. And may not the King's subject walk upon the King's highway, Sir Cocksparrow?

Roger [shaking his fist at boys]. Methinks 'twill take the King's soldiers to protect thee when once we catch thee——

Gershom. We'll show thee, thou blusterer, if we be not as free as thou!

[Turner and Porter seize Reuben and
Gershom and draw them back.

Mother [sternly, touching Roger's shoulder]. Peace, Roger and Myles. Is this the Christmas spirit we talked of but now?

Elder Hopkins [severely]. Woman, dost thou forget that we fled from England for this very cause, that we might escape and save our children from just such sinful folly as this? How darest thou, with these baubles and fripperies, bring temptation into our very midst? I know of no punishment too severe for such evil examples! Not the ducking-stool, nor the stocks, nor even banishment itself—— [Shakes his finger threateningly, at the same time going a step nearer to her. Enter Gilbert Appleton, remaining in background.]

Eaglefeather [springing before Mistress Delight with lifted tomahawk]. Stop! stop! No hurt good Squaw. Listen! Me tell. Me Eaglefeather. Father big chief—Bald Eagle. She good, kind squaw. Take Eaglefeather in, feed, make warm, make hurt foot well. Teach Eaglefeather be good Indian. Eaglefeather go home camp. All braves say "This night go burn village." Eaglefeather find Bald Eagle. Say, "Not burn village. Good people. Indian's friend. Good squaw. Kind to Eaglefeather." Bald Eagle listen. Eaglefeather tell about Tree. Say this Christmas Day. Good Day. Nobody hurt nobody. Bald Eagle listen. Say tell braves. Not let braves burn village. Now, now! Not hurt kind squaw! [Folds his arms proudly.]

Gilbert Appleton [coming forward]. Every word the lad says is true, sir!

All. Gilbert Appleton! What does he mean! How does thee know?

Gilbert. Because I was there. Good friends and neighbors, you all know that I, Gilbert Appleton, have been much among the savages. I know their speech, and their ways. Bald Eagle's tribe have always seemed friendly, but two days ago, when I was hunting with my match-lock near their camp, they made a prisoner of me and kept me there until just now. What Eaglefeather here hath told you is true. They would have burned the village if he had not begged the chief for the sake of Mistress Delight's great kindness to spare it. Good neighbors, 'tis my belief that this little Christmas tree hath saved us all! [During his story all hang upon his words, drawing close and shuddering at the thought of a massacre, and sighing with relief at the end.]

All. Strange! Wonderful! Did'st ever hear the like!

Gilbert. And, furthermore, the savages, who meant to make me guide them by the quickest way into our village, were moved to set me free at midnight and I have but now made my way back to you!

Turner. Unheard-of forbearance!

Dominie Cobb. Can we credit our ears!

Mistress Wells. 'Tis like a miracle!

Mistress Delight. 'Tis not so strange, either. We do not, we cannot know how much power even a very little good will and friendliness may have. I but thought to make my children happy, and because I loved my dear home in Old England I told them of customs there.

Prudence. Mother, I would like to tell the good Elder something.

Patience [aside]. He will only say thou art a forward wench, Prudence.

Prudence. Will he, Mother? Will he frown and say, "Children should be seen and not heard"?

Elder Hopkins. Nay, my little maid. I will listen gladly.

[Prudence goes to him and puts her hands in his.

Prudence [earnestly]. We didn't think it could be wrong, good Elder. Mother said it was the Lord's birthday, and we couldn't help being glad about that, could we? And Mother taught us a song about it.

Elder Hopkins. Then will you sing it for us, little maids?

[Prudence and Patience, hand in hand,
sing their carol once more, while Myles
and Roger go to Reuben Turner and
Gershom Porter and in pantomime apologize
and shake hands with them.

Mistress Porter. Good friends, these little maids and their song do touch my heart.

Turner. Truly, when we sought to bring truth and righteousness to the new land, I fear we were forgetting charity.

Jared. Was Christmas like this in Old England?

Jane. My Mother would never tell me of it.

Priscilla. I would it were so here!

Patience. Mother made the tree for us, but we'd like to give you all something from it. May we, Mother?

Mother. We will gladly share it if the good Elder will forgive any harm we may have done.

Elder Hopkins. Mistress Delight, I have been thinking that perhaps we have grown over hard and stern.

[Unhindered now, the children
draw close to the little tree.

Deacon Porter. There was much that was good in the old ways, after all.

Elder Hopkins. I will take a sprig in memory of the happy Christmases in Old England.

Mistress Wells. Perhaps we may e'en keep what was good in the old ways here in this New England. I'll take a bit of green, too.

All the others. And I, too. And I!

Mistress Delight. For the sake of the happy Christmases of old, and the homes we left, and more than all for the sake of the very first Christmas Day of all, let us sing one of the dear old carols we have loved so long.

Elder Hopkins. Willingly, Mistress Delight.

[All sing "Come Ye Lofty,"[25] and while singing
come forward and take bits of green
from the Tree, which Gilbert Appleton,
Reuben Turner, and Roger cut for them.

CURTAIN

NOTES ON COSTUME AND STAGING

Grown people, whose parts are taken by boys and girls from seventeen to twenty, and children, are dressed alike—men and boys in knee-trousers, coats with square white collars and cuffs, large belt- and shoe-buckles, broad-brimmed felt hats, with crowns high and flat. If the costumes are to be fully carried out, all should wear wigs, cropped round. Or they may be worn by the Elders only.

Women and girls wear plain dark-colored dresses, with rather full skirts, the children's as long as their mothers'. White kerchiefs, capes, and hoods, of dark colors with bright scarlet or gray-blue linings. The hoods are large and loose, with the edge turned back, giving color about the face. Mistress Delight, Patience, and Prudence wear white caps instead of the hoods.

Pictures of Puritan costumes are easily found in the Perry or Brown collections.

These costumes are best made of canton or outing flannel. Buckles can be made of cardboard and covered with silver paper, or cut from tin.

Indian. Suit made of tan canton flannel, fringed at edge of coat, sleeves, and trousers, with a band of fringe up and down arms and legs. He wears moccasins, beads, and a feather head-dress on his black wig. He carries bow and arrows, and a wooden tomahawk. A quiver can be made of a good-sized mailing-tube. He must have Indian make-up.

Hunter’s dress is more like the Indian's than like the colonist's, but he does not wear his hair long, and his suit should be trimmed with furs, not fringe. Fur cap with tail hanging down at back. He carries an old gun, not a bow.

Mistress Delight's children range from Roger, twelve years old, down to little Prudence, five. The Indian is a boy of Roger's age. The hunter, sixteen or seventeen.

The little Christmas tree should be a very "homemade" one. Strings of popcorn and cranberries, spools and balls covered with bright paper, may be used for decorations, Indian baskets, and such toys as the little Puritans might have made, or any little quaint and old-fashioned trinkets to carry out this idea. Only white candles should be used, and these fastened on in the simplest and most unobtrusive manner.

The singing of the old psalm should be made as doleful and droning, even nasal, as possible. It can be sung to the Scotch tune of "Windsor," which is to be found in most hymn-books. The number of verses used may be determined by the amusement and applause of the audience. The boys who sing it must on no account allow themselves to laugh.

The charm and picturesqueness of the stage will be greatly enhanced if quaint old-time household articles can be borrowed or manufactured for properties—bellows, lantern, candlesticks, andirons, an old foot-stove—above all, a warming-pan, which the mother fills at the fire and carries out when she takes the younger children to bed. The dishes and platter so much admired by Patience should be rather conspicuously ugly.

Finally, a word in regard to the old-time English. When the play was first given it was feared that the children would find it a stumbling-block, and that it would have to be dropped. Quite the reverse proved to be the case, however, and the children all gave their lines with delightful naturalness and evident enjoyment. This has been equally true of other groups of children by whom the play has since been given. They show no awkwardness in the use of the old forms, but seem to feel that it carries them out of the everyday, and makes danger and adventure real to them.