From a story by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman.[26]

ACT I

Time: The 10th of April.

Scene: Country road leading by the Convent. R., an angle of the Convent Wall. On it a large sign trimmed with evergreens, "Wanted, by the Christmas Monks, two good boys to assist in garden work. Applicants will be examined by Fathers Anselmus and Gregory, on April 8th, 9th, and 10th." Enter (R.) Mistress Longlane and Dolly, wearily, as if at the end of a long journey. Mistress Longlane carries a large basket. Dolly hangs back.

Mistress Longlane [rather crossly]. Now, Dolly Longlane, what with your stopping to gather flowers by the roadside, or to watch the clouds, or to listen to the birds in the hedges, we'll never reach our journey's end. Make haste, now!

Dolly [tearfully]. But, Mother, it's such a long, long way, and I'm so tired.

Mistress Longlane [relenting]. So you are, poor lamb. Well, a few moments can't make a very great difference, so sit ye down on the basket and take a rest. [Puts basket down (L.), and seats Dolly on it, wipes her own face, straightens her bonnet, and then looks about her. Sees sign, at which she glances indifferently, then with interest, at last with amazement. Reads through, then takes out spectacles and reads again.]

Mistress Longlane. Now, what may be the meaning of this?

Dolly. What is it, Mother?

Mistress Longlane [reads sign to Dolly]. The Christmas Monks? What manner of men are the Christmas Monks? Here comes some good dame from the village. I'll make bold to ask.

[Enter Mistress Spinning, with little
Peggy (L.).

Mistress Longlane [courtesying]. Good morrow, Mistress. Have you a moment to spare for a stranger in the country?

Mistress Spinning [courtesying]. Yes, indeed, Mistress, and right gladly. Make your manners, Peggy.

[Peggy courtesies first to Mistress Longlane
and then to Dolly, who rises from
the basket and courtesies, too.

Mistress Longlane. Why, Mistress, I am minded to ask the meaning of this strange sign that hangs upon the wall.

Mistress Spinning. Oh, you must indeed be a stranger in the land if you have never heard of the Christmas Monks. If you have come to make your home in our village, you'll soon learn, I'll warrant me, that this is the home of the Christmas Monks who keep the gardens in which all the Christmas toys are grown.

Mistress Longlane. The Christmas toys!

Dolly. Why, I thought Santa Claus brought them all.

Mistress Spinning. So he does, my dear. He takes them to the children, of course, but this is the garden where he comes to load his sleigh.

Mistress Longlane. You don't say!

Peggy [shaking her finger]. You never can see inside, but that garden is just full of toys. Oh, don't you wish we could peep in! [Both children run in search of holes or cracks, stretch their arms towards the top, and stand on tiptoe, vainly, finally coming back to listen to the conversation of their mothers.]

Mistress Spinning. Yes, the Christmas Monks have a wonderful garden with beds for rocking-horses, beds for dolls, beds for drums, and picture-books and skates and balls. They do say so, that is; of course, I've never seen the inside. And the seeds are just the tiniest bits of dolls and drums and balls, and the rest of it. So little that you can hardly see them at all.

Mistress Longlane. What do the Monks do?

Mistress Spinning. Why, they plant the seeds, and take care of the garden, and see that the toys are all ripe and ready for good old Santa Claus by Christmas time.

Peggy. And that's not all, Mother. They have turkey and plum pudding every day in the year! [Hugs herself.]

Dolly. Oh, my!

Peggy. And it says "Merry Christmas" over the gate.

Mistress Spinning. Yes, and every morning they file into the chapel and sing a Christmas carol, and every evening they ring a Christmas chime.

Peggy. And they have wax candles in all the windows every night.

Mistress Longlane. Why, it's like Christmas every day in the year!

Dolly. Aren't you glad we've come to live in this village, Mother? [Clasps her hands.]

Mistress Longlane. That I am, my dear. Why, it's enough to make one laugh just to hear of it.

Mistress Spinning. That it is, Mistress. You're quite right. The Christmas Monks are so full of the Christmas spirit that it lasts them all the year round, and they just go about putting heart into them that get sad and discouraged. But I think I see some of the children coming for the examination.

Mistress Longlane. Ah! Yes. That's to take place this afternoon?

Mistress Spinning. Yes, this is the last afternoon of it. The good Fathers have already held two examinations and, will you believe it? [Coming closer and speaking very impressively.] They haven't found two boys who are good enough yet, though they've examined hundreds.

[Enter Annetta and Marianna, talking together.

Annetta. Oh, Marianna, don't you wonder whom the good Fathers will choose?

Marianna. Yes, indeed, I do, Annetta. Why, there aren't very many more boys to examine.

Annetta. No, nearly all the boys in the kingdom have tried.

Marianna. But they're all naughty in some way or other.

Annetta. Oh, don't you wish it was two girls the Fathers wanted?

Marianna. Oh, don't I! Ssh! Here comes Peter with his little sister Rosalia.

[Enter Peter and Rosalia.

Peter. Here are some flowers I picked for you, sister.

Rosalia. Thank you, Peter.

Peter. See, sister, that's the sign, and the Monks come right here to examine the boys.

Rosalia. Oh, Peter, I wish they'd take you to work in the Christmas garden!

Peter. There isn't much chance of that, I'm afraid. But, come, sister, I'd better take you home. You might get hurt in the crowd. [Exit (L.), Peter bowing politely as he passes the women.]

Annetta. Marianna, why wouldn't Peter try?

Marianna. He's going to try to-day, I believe. He wouldn't before because he is so modest.

Annetta. But he's the very best boy in the village, and so good to his parents and his little lame sister!

[Enter Gilbert, Robin, and Walter; all
stand, hands in pockets, before the sign, and
read it in silence.

Gilbert. I wish we had been examined yesterday. I hate not to know about it.

Robin. Well, perhaps we'll have a better chance to-day.

Walter. Yes, there aren't so many of us to choose from.

Gilbert. I suppose the boys that get in there can have all the tops and balls they want.

Robin. Every day in the year.

Walter. Why, all you'd have to do would be to pick them!

Mistress Longlane [looking out L.]. Why, what's this coming down the road?

Mistress Spinning. Why, mercy on us, 'tis the Prince. He must be coming to try the examination.

Children [in hushed voices, crowding to see, peeping over each other's shoulders]. The Prince! The Prince! The Prince!

[Enter Courtier.

Courtier [with an impatient gesture]. Ssh—ssh—ssh! Out of the way there! Make way for his Royal Highness!

[Stands aside, bowing. Enter Prince, his
cloak held by two pages, followed by the
Court Lady, by whom the Courtier
takes his place. Villagers fall back, courtesying
and bowing. Prince stands with
folded arms and haughty air reading sign
and looking about him. Pause.

Prince. Well, I see no Monks. Am I to be kept waiting here all day?

Courtier [bowing low]. Your Highness, the hour set has not yet——

Prince [interrupting angrily]. I say I will not be kept waiting. What will my father the king say when he hears I have been kept standing in the highway with a rabble of common peasant children?

Court Lady. Oh, your Highness, condescend to have a little patience!

Prince [more angrily]. I will not have patience. Patience is not a virtue for Kings and Princes. [Taps his foot on the ground.]

Court Lady [nervously looking up the road]. Oh, but think of something else—think of—think what a pleasant day it is!

Prince [scowling prodigiously]. Pleasant day, indeed!

Courtier. Here they come, your Highness!

Court Lady [full of relief]. Oh, yes! Here they come. Here they come!

[Enter Fathers Anselmus and Gregory
(R.), followed by Sebastian and Felix;
at same time enter Peter (L.). Monks
walk with hands clasped before them. Villagers
all doff caps, bow, and courtesy.
Even the Prince is awed into respect. The
Fathers look about smilingly.

Gregory. Well, well, Brother Anselmus, there seems quite a goodly number awaiting us to-day.

Anselm [rubbing his hands]. Yes, Brother Gregory. I trust we shall discover the right boys at last. Let me see. [Looks about, aside.] I suppose we should examine his Royal Highness first?

Gregory. Truly, my Brother. Let us commit no breach of etiquette.

Anselm. Your Highness! [Monks bow very slightly. Prince and attendants advance a little.] How old are you?

Courtier [haughtily]. His Royal Highness has just completed his eleventh year.

Gregory. Indeed! And is he a good boy, as boys go?

Court Lady. "As boys go," indeed! Why, his Royal Highness is not to be mentioned in the same day with common boys!

Anselm. Oh! Then you are not like other boys?

Courtier and Court Lady [bowing to Prince]. A wonderful child, your worships!

Gregory. Then he doesn't often do anything wrong?

Courtier. Wrong? Oh, never, your worship!

Court Lady. He never did a wrong thing in all his sweet life. [Clasps hands and casts up her eyes.]

Anselm. Is he diligent? What about his lessons?

Courtier. He doesn't need to study.

Court Lady. A most brilliant intellect!

Gregory. Well, well, well, Anselmus, I think we must try this paragon. [They put their heads together.]

Geoffrey, 1st Page. He just smashes his toys!

Humphrey, 2nd Page. And he beats his dogs!

Courtier and Court Lady. Horrors! [They turn and each boxes the ear of the nearest page.]

Geoffrey. And when he's angry he kicks and screams!

Humphrey. And he won't mind even the King, his father!

[Courtier and Court Lady each clap a hand
over a Page's mouth.

Courtier [aside to Lady]. Such disrespect!

Court Lady [aside to Courtier]. Such indiscretion!

Anselm. Your Royal Highness is accepted. Now, Brother Gregory, we will continue the examination. First boy!

[The Prince and his train fall back slightly.
Gilbert steps forward.

Gregory. Your name?

Gilbert. Gilbert, the Carpenter's apprentice.

Anselm. Are you a good boy?

Gilbert [doubtfully]. I guess so, sir.

Gregory. Do you always speak the truth, Gilbert?

Gilbert [stammering]. W-w-w-well, nearly always.

Anselm. Tut-tut-tut! That won't do at all. Always speak the truth, my boy. I am afraid we can't take you. Next.

[Gilbert steps back, hanging his head. Robin
comes forward.

Gregory. Name?

Robin [in a small, frightened voice]. Robin, the Forester's son.

Anselm. Don't be afraid, Robin. So you are the Forester's son. Ah-h! Hum, hum-m-m! Are you kind to animals, Robin?

Robin. Oh, yes, sir. My father teaches me to be good to them always.

[Gregory bends over and whispers to Anselm.

Anselm. Robin, answer me truthfully. Did you ever rob a bird's nest?

[Robin hangs his head and works his toes about.

Anselm. Did you do this?

Robin [rubbing his eyes]. Yes, Father, I did.

Gregory. Too bad, too bad. Now I am sorry to hear this.

Anselm. So am I, Gregory, but you see it won't do!

[Robin goes to stand by Gilbert, still rubbing his eyes.

Gregory. Next boy. [Walter steps forward.] Name?

Walter. I am Walter, the Miller's boy, and I help my father in the mill.

Anselm. That is right, Walter; we approve of that.

Gregory. You are diligent in the mill. How about lessons?

Walter. Well—I go to school——

Anselm. Are you at the head of your class?

Walter. N-n-n-no, sir.

Anselm. Second, then?

Walter. N-n-no, sir.

Gregory. Well, well, where are you, then? At the foot?

Walter. Y-y-yes, sir.

Anselm. Tut-tut! [Shakes his head.] What a pity! Are there any more boys, Gregory?

[Walter crooks his elbow over his eyes and
stands by Robin.

Gregory. One boy, Brother Anselmus.

Anselm. Ah! yes. I have seen this boy before, I think. Isn't this boy named Peter?

Peter. Yes, sir.

Mistress Spinning [coming suddenly forward and courtesying]. And a better boy never lived, your reverence, if you'll excuse me for mentioning it.

Anselmus. Certainly, Dame, certainly. We shall be very glad to hear what you know about Peter.

Mistress Spinning. It's just this I know, sir. He's a good, hard-working, honest boy, sir, and very obedient to his parents.

Peggy. He takes good care of his little sister——

Marianna. And he never teases little girls——

Annetta. And he's at the head of his class in school——

Gilbert. And the teacher likes him——

Robin. So do all the boys——

Walter. So does everybody in town!

Gregory. Well, well, Brother Anselmus, it does seem as if we had found a good boy at last, doesn't it?

Anselm. Yes, Brother Gregory, this is surely the right boy for us. And now that Peter and the Prince are accepted, let us return to our Convent and resume our exercises there. Come, boys.

[Children all clap loudly. Monks form a procession,
Peter falls in behind, and the
Prince gives his hand haughtily to be
kissed by his attendants, then struts after.
Exeunt, the Monks chanting.

CURTAIN

ACT II

Time: One week before Christmas.

Scene: Inside the garden. At back, the wall. Against it (R.), the Doll bed. Left, small trees with toys. Down Center and across Front, garden paths. Prince and Peter in Monks' robes and sandals. Prince sitting idly on a wheelbarrow. Peter working with rake in the Doll bed. Tools, watering can, etc., scattered about.

Prince [crossly]. Well, I don't see how you can stand this place, Peter. I've had more than enough—I'm just sick of it, I am.

Peter [still working], I'm sorry, your Highness.

Prince. Yes, that's what you always say. I wish you would stop that everlasting work and come here and tell me why you're sorry? Why in the world do you keep on working and working? I believe you like it. Come here, I tell you!

[Peter comes forward and leans on rake to
talk with him.

Peter. Well, your Highness?

Prince. That's right, Peter. Now you just tell me what you like about it so awfully much.

Peter. Why, your Highness, you know I'm a poor boy and I've always had to work. This is such pretty work—it's just like play. And I never really had enough to eat until I came here to live. I tell you it's horrid to be hungry! Then the good Fathers are so kind, and I love the Christmas carols and the chimes—why, I think it's a beautiful place, your Highness. Don't you like to watch the toys grow?

Prince. Oh, they grow so slow. I expected to have a bushelful of new toys every month, and not one have I had yet. And these stingy old Monks say that I can only have my usual Christmas share, anyway, and I mayn't pick them myself, either. I never saw such a stupid place to stay, in all my life. I want to have my velvet tunic on and go home to the palace and ride on my white pony with the silver tail, and hear them all tell me how charming I am. [His words become nearly a wail, and he rubs his fists in his eyes.]

Peter [patting him sympathetically on the shoulder]. Never mind, your Highness. It's pretty nearly Christmas now, and in a few days the toys will be ready to pick. Come along, and I'll help you to water those tin soldiers over there—you didn't get that done, did you?

Prince [jumps up angrily and stamps his foot]. No, and I won't do it, either. As for you, Peter, you're tame. If you had a grain of spirit you'd hate it just as much as I do. There! [Runs off angrily (L.). Peter looks after him, shakes his head, gathers tools together neatly, takes up watering-can, and exit (R.). Enter Prince.]

Prince [looking after Peter]. There he goes now to water those horrid soldiers. I'd like to melt them all down to lumps of lead—I would! And Peter—he's enough to drive me crazy. I won't stay here a bit longer, so I won't. I'll get that ladder out of the tool house and get over the wall and go home. [Starts off.] But I'll take some Christmas presents with me, I know! [Exit (L.). Enter (R.) Sebastian, Felix, Anselm, and Gregory.]

Anselm. Well, Brethren, we have every cause to rejoice in the fine flourishing condition of our garden. Peter has kept the beds wonderfully clear of weeds.

Gregory. Yes, and I think I may say that our garden has never been so fine as this year. It was a happy day for us when we found Peter.

Felix. Indeed it was. How neatly he keeps the garden paths raked.

Anselm. And what a good disposition the child has!

Felix. Always ready and willing——

Sebastian [who has stood at one side with folded arms and dejected countenance]. Peter. Peter. Peter. But what of the Prince?

Anselm. Alas, yes. You are right, Brother Sebastian. What of the Prince?

Gregory. Oh, I'm not utterly hopeless of the Prince, my Brethren.

Sebastian. Brother Gregory is always over-hopeful.

Felix. It is my solemn opinion, Brethren, that the Prince is the very worst boy in the Kingdom.

Anselm. Oh, no, Brother Felix!

Sebastian. I say he is! Think of the first day, when we gave him Noah's ark seed to sow, and he went into a passion because it wasn't gold-watch seed! [The Monks nod regretfully.] We set him a penance to kneel on dried pease in the chapel all afternoon. And hasn't it been so every other day in the year since?

Anselm [soothingly]. Yes, Brother Sebastian, I fear it has. [Cheerfully.] But, then, you know, this has come hardest on you—hasn't it, my Brethren? For, you see, the Prince exhausted our list of penances so soon and you have had to remain in solitary confinement in your cell in order that you might invent new penances for him. Hasn't it been too hard for poor Brother Sebastian, Brethren?

Gregory. Yes, yes, poor fellow, he looks quite thin and worn.

Felix. And to think how we were deceived in that boy! How his people praised him!

Sebastian [gloomily]. I fear his Royal relatives are sadly deceived in him.

Gregory. But let us think of pleasanter subjects, for I have hopes that the softening influences of the Christmas season will do great things for our misguided young friend. Let us give our minds to the contemplation of the Doll bed. How lovely the little creatures are!

Felix. And how they will delight the hearts of the little girls.

Anselm. Why, why, why, what is this? Here is a vacant place!

Gregory. Oh, yes, Brother, that doll didn't come up. I noticed the place long ago.

Felix. And so did I, but I neglected to speak of it.

Gregory [to Anselm, who continues to shake his head over the missing doll]. Come, come, Brother, let us be glad that such cases are rare. Now, my Brethren, we will go on with our inspection. [They move towards exit, then, looking back, discover Sebastian still in gloomy revery. Felix goes back, puts an arm across his shoulder, and guides him gently after the others.]

Gregory. Poor fellow! Poor fellow! [Exeunt slowly (R.). Enter (L.) Rosalia.]

Rosalia [looking about with delight]. Oh, the lovely dollies. [Examines them.] And there comes Peter! [Enter Peter (R.). Rosalia goes to meet him.] Peter! Peter!

Peter [amazed]. Oh, you darling! How in the world did you get in here?

Rosalia. I just crept in behind one of the Monks. I saw him going along the street, and I ran after him, and when he opened the big gates I just crept in. Here I am, Peter!

Peter [worried]. Well, I don't see what I am going to do with you, now you are here. I can't let you out again, and I don't know whatever the Monks would say!

Rosalia. Oh, I know! I'll stay out here in the garden. I'll sleep in one of those beautiful dolly-cradles over there, and you can bring me something to eat.

Peter. But the Monks come out very often to look over the garden, and they'll be sure to find you.

Rosalia. No, I'll hide. Oh, Peter, see that place where there isn't any dolly?

Peter. Yes, that doll didn't come up.

Rosalia. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll just stand here in her place and nobody can tell the difference. [Steps into place among dolls.]

Peter. Well, I suppose you can do that. [Looks at her and shakes his head anxiously.] Of course, I'm glad as glad can be to see you, but I'm afraid the Monks wouldn't like it. Now I must go and put away my tools. Be very quiet, sister. [Exit Peter (L.), coming back to see if Rosalia is safe. Waves his hand to her. Exit. A pause in which Rosalia looks about her, feels the curls of the doll next her, etc., etc. Enter Prince (L.), carrying small ladder twined with green, and a huge basket of toys. Goes to wall, places ladder, tries its firmness, and begins to climb, finding much difficulty with basket. Rosalia watches furtively with much interest and excitement.]

Prince [at top of wall]. Now, if I can just get down on the other side. [Works cautiously but ineffectually to get the basket over. Looks over wall joyfully.] Oh, I see some of my father's people riding by! I'll get them to help. [Waves hand frantically.] My lord! My lord! Hither! [Voices beyond wall: "The Prince!" "The Prince!" "His Royal Highness!" "Make haste, your Highness! have a care!" At which the Prince contrives to fall over the wall, dropping the basket inside.]

Prince [without]. Oh, I'm not hurt! Let us get away! Hasten, my lords, hasten! [Voices die away in the distance.]

Rosalia [horrified]. What a naughty boy! [Enter Peter (L.).] Oh, Peter, the Prince has run away.

Peter [hurriedly examining ladder, etc.]. Run away? [Mounts ladder and looks over wall.] He surely has! There he goes on the horse with that gentleman! [Watching, thoughtfully.] I was afraid he would try that! But this ladder [getting down] has always been kept locked up. Oh, too bad,—most of the toys are broken. [Gathers them up and takes ladder.] Keep very still, sister. I must put these away and tell the Abbot and the other Fathers what has happened. [Exit (L.). Enter Anselmus (R.), walking up and down the path, hands behind him in deep thought. Takes turn near Rosalia, notices her, starts, bends down to look closer, puts on spectacles, and gazes with astonishment.]

Anselm. Why, what is this! Hoc credam! I thought that wax doll didn't come up. Can my eyes deceive me? Non verum est! There is a doll here—and what a doll! On crutches and in poor homely gear! [Puts out a hand to touch her.]

Rosalia [starting]. Oh! [Anselm starts so violently that his wreath falls off in the path.]

Anselm [gasps, trying to recover himself]. It is a miracle! The little girl is alive! Parva puella viva est. I must summon the Abbot and the Brethren at once. We will pick her and pay her the honors she is entitled to. [Picks up wreath, settles it distractedly upon his head, and hurries to path (R.), where he motions to someone without.]

Anselm [with excitement]. Hilarion! Brother Hilarion! Hither!

[Enter Hilarion in hot haste.

Hilarion [panting]. Did you call, Brother Anselmus?

Anselm. Summon the holy Father Abbot at once—say to him that it is a matter of importance. [Exit Hilarion, running. Anselmus returns to look at Rosalia again, muttering.] A matter of importance—a matter of importance.

[Enter Abbot and all Monks.

Abbot. At the wax doll bed, did you say, Hilarion? Ah, yes, there is my son Anselmus.

Anselm [coming forward]. Most holy Abbot, behold a miracle. Vide miraculum! Thou wilt remember that there was one wax doll planted which did not come up. Behold! in its place I have found this doll on crutches, which is—alive.

Monks. Alive! Strange! Wonderful!

Abbot. Alive, did you say, Anselmus! Let me see her. [Abbot bends over to see Rosalia. Monks crowd around to see.]

Abbot [rising]. Verum est! It is verily a miracle.

Hilarion. Rather a lame miracle.

Abbot [reprovingly]. My son, I fear the work in which you have been engaged, to wit, taking charge of the funny picture-books and the monkeys and jumping jacks, has rather thrown your mind off its level of sobriety, and caused in you a tendency to make frivolous remarks, unbecoming a Monk.

Ambrose. I am the leech of the Convent. Let me look at the miracle, most holy Abbot.

[All make way for Ambrose.

Abbot. Gladly, my son Ambrose.

Ambrose [examining Rosalia's ankle]. I think I can cure this with my herbs and simples, if your reverence wills that I should try.

Abbot [doubtfully]. But I don't know. I never heard of curing a miracle.

Ambrose. If it is not lawful, my humble power will not suffice to cure it.

Abbot. True. We will take her, then, and thou shalt exercise thy healing art upon her. [Takes Rosalia up in his arms, and leads the way, a Monk picking up the crutches.] We will go on with our Christmas devotions, for which we should now feel all the more zeal.

[Exit Monks (R.), singing. Enter Peter,
darting to place where Rosalia stood, then
to look after the Monks, hands clasped in anxiety.

CURTAIN

ACT III

Time: Christmas morning.

Scene: The Convent chapel, decorated with Christmas greens, candles, etc. A picture of the Madonna and Child wreathed in green. On a daÏs (back Center), in the Abbot's chair, dressed in white with a wreath on her head, is seated little Rosalia. She sings a simple little Christmas hymn. Enter Peter, with an air of secrecy, sitting down at Rosalia's feet.

Peter. Oh, sister, I feel so miserable!

Rosalia. Why, Peter? I think it is just beautiful!

Peter. Oh, yes, of course it is beautiful, and that's the very worst part of it. I mean, you know, that just because it is so beautiful, and the good Fathers are so very dreadfully kind, that I feel worse than ever. Oh, dear! I'm not saying what I mean a bit, sister, but, you see, I hate not to tell the Fathers the truth about you, and on Christmas day, too. You know they think that you are a live doll, and a miracle, and you're no such thing. You're just Peter's little sister, aren't you, pet? And they have been so kind, and Father Ambrose has made your poor little ankle so nice and well—— So it makes me feel horrid to think we're deceiving them. Why, it's 'most as bad as telling a story.

Rosalia [patting Peter's shoulder]. Poor Peter, I'm so sorry!

Peter. What shall we do about it, sister?

Rosalia. Why, Peter, I'll tell them. They're all so kind, I don't think they will be cross.

Peter. Well, sister, I don't believe they will, either. And it's Christmas day, so I want to be sure to do what is right. And this is right—I am sure of that. Now I must run away; they'll be coming soon. [Exit Peter. Sound of Monks singing in the distance grows louder and louder. Enter Monks, Abbot leading, each bearing a tray full of toys for Rosalia. Half the Monks march to the right, half to the left of her chair. Monks hold out their presents to her.]

Rosalia. Please, I'm not a miracle. I'm only Peter's little sister!

Felix, Ambrose, and Sebastian. Peter!

Anselm, Hilarion, and Gregory. Peter's little sister!

Abbot. Peter? The Peter who works in our garden?

[Enter Peter, standing unnoticed by door.

Rosalia. Yes, Peter's little sister.

[Monks turn, each looking in the eyes of the
one nearest.

Gregory. Surely, here's an opportunity for a whole convent full of Monks to look foolish.

Anselm. Filing up in procession——

Ambrose. With our hands full of gifts——

Sebastian. To offer them to a miracle——

Felix. And then to find out that this miracle——

Hilarion. This famous miracle is nothing but Peter's little sister! [Hilarion doubles up with laughter, but controls himself as the Abbot lifts his hand for order.]

Abbot. My children, harken to me. Haven't I always maintained that there are two ways of looking at anything? If an object is not what we wish it to be in one light, let us see if there is not some other light under which it will surely meet our views. This dear little girl is a little girl and not a doll, that is true. She did not come up in the place of the wax doll, and she is not a miracle in that light. But look at her in another light, and surely she is a miracle—do you not see? Look at her, the darling little girl, isn't the very meaning and sweetness of all Christmas in her loving, trusting, innocent little face?

Monks. Yes, yes, she is a miracle, a miracle, indeed!

[Monks come forward and lay the toys at
her feet. Peter fairly hugs himself with joy.

Abbot. And, Peter? Where is Peter?

Peter [coming forward]. Here I am, sir.

Abbot. Peter, we feel so happy this beautiful Christmas Day, that we must find some expression for our joy—we must surely find a way to share such happiness with others. Run, my son, open the Convent gates, and bid all the village people who wait there for our usual gifts to enter and take part in our pleasure. [Exit Peter in haste.] Think, my children, what a gift we have here for the poor parents of Peter and little Rosalia—this dear little girl will be restored to them, not lame, as she was when she wandered here, but well and strong and happy like other little ones. Think of it, my children.

[Enter Peter, leading his father and mother,
who hasten to Rosalia, kneeling one on
each side of her great chair. The rest of
the villagers of Act I press in, and stand
grouped at each side of the stage.

Abbot. Welcome, welcome, my good people! A Merry Christmas to you all!

Villagers. Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!

[Amid the tumult enter the two Pages. They
advance to the Abbot, and bowing, present
a letter with large seals.

Abbot. How, now! What's this? [Breaking seal and reading letter, the Monks showing deep interest.] My children, we have here a message from His Majesty, the King. He tells us that his son, the Prince, reached his palace in safety, and that he has come to feel great regret for all the trouble and anxiety he caused the Christmas Monks. He hopes that the Prince's repentance, though late, will help to season our Christmas and make it a happy one. And his Majesty adds that he finds great improvement in his son. Well! Well! this does indeed add yet another happiness to our day. [To the people.] And I know you all, little and big, are just as happy as we are, for at last the gates are open to the Convent of the Christmas Monks.

[All sing a Christmas carol.

CURTAIN

NOTES ON COSTUME AND PRESENTATION

(Mrs. Freeman's story of the same name, from which this little play was taken, has delightful illustrations which would be of help in making the monks' costumes. It appeared first in Wide Awake, Volume 16, and was later published in a collection of Mrs. Freeman's short stories, entitled "The Pot of Gold.")

The Abbot (taken by an adult), and

The Brethren of the Convent (boys, sixteen to eighteen) wear long hooded robes made of white canton flannel. Greek patterns in green are stenciled at hem of skirt and around the wide sleeves. A rope of ground pine, or other Christmas wreathing, is worn for a girdle, ends hanging, and the tonsures are made by wearing close-fitting skull-caps of flesh-colored silk or sateen, with a wreath of green at the edge.

When Peter and the Prince come to the Garden their dress is the same, but their Greek borders should be smaller and they wear no tonsures. They are boys of ten. Hoods of all are worn hanging, except that of Brother Sebastian, who in the 2nd Act goes gloomily hooded. All wear sandals and white stockings.

As the story suggests neither country nor period, there may be a good deal of latitude in the matter of costumes for the rest of the cast, but the court party in the first act should be as resplendent as possible.

The Prince. Plumed hat, short trousers, slippers with bows, coat with broad lace collar and cuffs. Very long cloak, borne behind him by the

Pages. Dressed alike in a style somewhat resembling the Prince.

Courtier. The same, with the addition of a short cape, and a sword.

Court Lady. Dress made with a train and a high beaded collar. The boy and girl playing these parts are also Peter's Father and Mother in the last act.

Mistress Longlane and Mistress Spinning, and the little Village girls wear large poke bonnets, old-fashioned shawls or white kerchiefs, and mitts.

Peter. Neat, but old and faded blouse and knickerbockers. Cap.

Little Rosalia. Quaint smocked dress, of soft blue, a Persian border at hem, square neck, and short sleeves. (Or, white, with blue borders.) Small cap, trimmed in the same way. She is lame and walks with crutches.

Peter's Father and Mother. Poorly and roughly dressed.

Gilbert, the Carpenter's Apprentice. Blue denim apron. Carries T-square.

Robin, the Forester's Son. Sleeveless green coat, over a white shirt with full sleeves; full trousers; broad felt hat, turned up on one side with a quill.

Walter, the Miller's Son. White apron. Dusty felt hat.

(If preferred, instead of using the above suggestions for costumes, the Randolph Caldecott pictures, or Kate Greenaway illustrations of "Mother Goose," may be adopted as a scheme for dressing all but the Monks.)

The entrance and exit of the Monks is always heralded by their singing. Their song may be one of the well-known Christmas carols containing a few Latin words, but a Latin chant is most effective, such as can be found in the little Sunday-school hymnals of the Roman Catholic Church. Suggestions for Rosalia's song and the carol at the end of the play will be found on p. 315.

Setting

For the Garden wall, a frame must be made sufficiently strong to bear the weight of the Prince, and may need special bracing at the central point where he climbs over. He uses a small ladder, preferably a red-painted one, like those in children's ladder-wagon sets. The framework of the wall may be covered with paper, but unbleached muslin is much more substantial and lasting. On this is painted the wall, representing either brick or stone, with a stone coping, all quaintly stained and moss-grown. It is five or six feet in height.

The beds where the toys grow are outlined in green. Dolls as large as possible should be used in the back row, in order to prevent the contrast with little Rosalia from being too great. Smaller dolls may be used in the front rows. The number depends on the size of the stage and the possibilities for borrowing. They may be made to stand with wooden braces, but it will be found convenient if milliners' stands for displaying hats can be obtained, as they are light and can be easily set in place. For the other bed, two or three small bare bushes, on the branches of which can be fastened such toys as whips, tin trumpets, etc. Small wheelbarrow, watering-pot, and other garden tools scattered about.

For the last scene, the walls should be plain and dark in color. The Abbot's chair is large and ecclesiastical, and Rosalia looks, in it, like the doll for which the Monks mistook her. Two great candles, in tall candlesticks, on the daÏs beside her, are effective. No other furniture.