CURTAIN

NOTES ON COSTUME AND SETTING

The children are dressed in peasant costumes, the girls in bright skirts and stockings, white guimpes, black velvet bodices, and Normandy caps; the boys in full trousers, bright stockings, vests of green or blue, fastening in the back, white shirts with full sleeves, and toboggan caps. Toinette wears shoes with buckles; the others may wear the same, or sabots.

Mother. Plain dark dress, with full skirt; kerchief on her shoulders, and a white cap.

The magic "Cloak of Darkness" brought by the Elves for Toinette, is a long cape, with hood attached, made of light gray canton flannel.

The Fern-seed Bag may be made of a bit of the same material, or of the colors of Hollyberry's costume.

The Elves wear harlequin costumes in two shades of the same color, with tall pointed hoods, and long shoes with toes turned up. Gilt bells on all points of collar, jacket, and hood. See illustration. Sateen is perhaps the best material for these little suits, as it comes in a great variety of rich shades, but cheaper goods may be found.

Hollyberry. Dark red and scarlet. He carries a holly branch in lieu of a wand.

Mistletoe. Brown and yellow. In Act II he carries an odd box supposed to be full of fern seed.

Evergreen. Dark and light green. In Act II he produces the holly stick for stirring the broth.

Icicle. Dark and light blue. In Act II he carries a small jar or pitcher,—something curious or unusual in appearance,—which is supposed to contain the honey-dew.

Instead of the gilt bells, the points of these suits may be trimmed with bits of holly, mistletoe, evergreen, and glass icicles, as indicated by the names.

In setting the stage, it is effective to make small windows, with diamond-shaped panes, and white sash-curtains, placing small pots of scarlet geraniums on the sills.

The song is "Good News on Christmas Morning," from St. Nicholas Songs (Century Company).

Where music is indicated through the play, any part of the carol is sung, except the last verse, which is used only once, just before the last curtain. For the Elves' dance, the Pizzicato from the ballet "Sylvia" by Delibes, Dvorak's "Humoresque," or a waltz, very lightly played, may be used.

TOM’S PLAN

IN TWO ACTS

CHARACTERS

TOM’S PLAN

ACT I

Time: Christmas Eve.

Scene: Nursery or sitting-room, children sitting about, each working upon a Christmas gift. Nurse at one side with her work-basket. All singing a Christmas carol.[8]

Daisy. I just can't believe that to-morrow really will be Christmas!... What do you think of that for a book-mark? [Holds it up.] Don't you suppose Papa will be pleased?

Phil [driving a last nail into a bootjack]. Papa says he can't get his new boots off. If he can't do it now, with this, I'm sure he never will be able to. Isn't that fine?

Sarah. Sure, Master Phil, he'll be wantin' a new house to kape that big thing in!

Daisy. Now, Sarah, you mustn't say that! You know Papa always likes the things we make for him.

Dot [crossing to Sarah]. Sarah, please fasten my thread.... Now, my spectacle-wiper is done. Oh, boys, don't you wish it was to-morrow morning!

Tom. You bet! I'm going to do Papa's knife up in a great big bundle, so he'll think it's a pair of slippers or a book, anyway, and see how surprised he'll be.

Charlie [clapping his hands]. What fun! Say, Tom, don't you wish we could see Santa Claus?

Phil. Let's try and stay awake all night.

Dot. No! you bad boys! Santa Claus doesn't like to have children see him when he comes to put things in the stockings.

Daisy. No, of course he doesn't. And, besides, Mamma has a better way. She told me to ask you all whether you would rather hang your stockings this year, or get Santa Claus to come and bring us a tree.

Charlie. Oh, jolly! But how is Santa Claus going to know in time?

Phil. That's what I'd like to know.

Daisy. I asked Papa that, and he said, Oh, he guessed he could telegraph.

Tom. Then do let's have him come here!

Children. Oh, yes, let's!

Dot. I want to thank him for my dolly's bed that he brought last year.

Daisy. Well, I'll go tell Mamma. [Exit.]

Sarah. Ye'd all better come down and wrap up yer things now.

Phil. All right. Come along. [Exeunt all but Tom.]

Tom. I'll be along in a minute. [Looks up chimney.] I'm so glad Santa Claus is coming this year. [Crosses to front of stage and sits astride a small chair with its back to audience.] There are so many things I want to know about him. I'm just going to count. [Checks off on his fingers.] First, I want to know where he lives. Daisy says he lives at the North Pole, and she's got a picture of his house, with icicles and snow all over it. But then he always brings us oranges and bananas and nuts and figs, and I know they don't grow at the North Pole. I wish I could find out. Next, what he feeds the reindeer on. Next, how he ever gets all the things into the sleigh. How fast the reindeer can go. And whether they ever get balky. He'd be late all the time if they did. Horses do, but perhaps reindeer are different. But the one thing I'd rather know than all the others put together, is just this: Sarah said, the other day when I took a bite out of one of her hot pies, that Santa Claus [very slowly and impressively] would put a whip in my stocking! Now I wonder if he would do that? [Thinks awhile, then shakes his head.] No, no! I don't believe he would. He's always smiling in his pictures, and he looks so jolly. And then, if anybody wanted to spend all his time giving presents, like Santa Claus, I don't believe he would ever put ashes or whips in anybody's stocking, just because he forgot the pie was for company.... Oh, dear! I wish I did know. [Jumps up suddenly, puts one knee on the chair, and holds on to the back with both hands.] Oh! Oh! I've got such a splendid plan! It'll be easy enough to find out, after all. I don't really want anything for Christmas this year ... 'cept maybe a sled, and ... well, I guess Phil will let me coast on his sled. Now, I'm going to be just as cross, as cross as a bear, to-night and see if Santa Claus will give me a whip. I don't care—I know he won't! Anyway, Mamma never lets anybody whip me—only Papa—and if Santa Claus wants me whipped he'll have to give the whip to Papa. There! I hear somebody coming. I'm just going to begin right off.

Charlie [calling, without]. Tom, Tom! Aren't you coming to wrap up your things?

Tom [very crossly]. No!

Charlie [much surprised]. Why not?

Tom. Don't want to. [Chuckles.] He sounded rather surprised. I guess they won't know what to make of it. It'll be such fun! [Sits astride chair again.] Here comes somebody else. I won't look around. [Puts his head down on his arms. Enter Dot.]

Dot. Tom!

Tom. What do you want?

Dot [timidly]. What's the matter, Tom?

Tom. Ain't nothing the matter.

Dot [aside]. Oh, dear! Tom, do you want me to wrap up the knife for you?

Tom. Can if you want to. Here. [Takes it from his pocket and hands it to her without looking up.]

Dot [aside]. What can be the matter? We can't any of us be happy if Tom isn't. [Exit, putting her handkerchief to her eyes.]

Tom [looking after her]. 'Tisn't so much fun as I thought. [Puts his head down. Enter Sarah.]

Sarah [hands on hips, looking at Tom]. Well, what 'ud be the trouble here? [Goes about, putting things to rights. Dusts chair, giving Tom a brush.]

Tom [hits out at her]. Go 'way!

Sarah. Oh, is that yerself?

Tom. Yes, it's meself.

Sarah. Well, what's the matter wid yerself?

Tom. Never you mind what! [The other children run in.]

Daisy. Oh, Sarah, Sarah, give us our coats, quick! Papa says he'll take us along Fourth Street, to see the shop windows lighted up!

Charlie. Do hurry, Sarah!

Daisy. I can't find my mittens!

Dot [softly, nudging Phil]. Phil, tell Tom to come.

Phil. Come along, Tom, and be quick!

Tom. Won't.

Phil. You won't?

Charlie. Why not?

Tom. Don't want to.

Charlie. Well, then, don't! Come on, Dot! [Takes her by the arm, and leads her out. Phil and Daisy look at Tom.]

Daisy. Please come, Tom.

Tom. I tell you I won't.

Daisy. We'll have such fun.

Tom. Well, you can have it for all me.

Phil. See here, Tom, don't be a donkey! Come along! [Takes him by the arm.]

Tom [shakes him off]. Get out!

Daisy. Well, I suppose we'll have to go without him. Papa is waiting. [They start.] Phil, what is the matter with Tom?

Phil. I don't know. Dot said he was cross——

[Exeunt.

Sarah. Ye'd betther remember what I was a-tellin' ye, Master Tom. Ye gettin' ready for the stick?

Tom. You be still and clear out, Sarah!

Sarah. Oh, I'm a-goin'—I'm a-goin'! Shall I tell Santa Claus to make it out of rattan, Master Tom?

Tom. Go on out, I say! [Chases her out.] Well, it's some fun to be cross to Sarah, but I really don't like to be cross to Dot and the others. Oh, dear! I wish I didn't have to. [Sees Sarah's dust-cloth, which he rolls into a wad and tucks into a cap lying on one of the chairs.] He-he! that'll fix her. Now she can't find it. [Enter Sarah. Tom sits down by the fire, holding his knee.] What do you want?

Sarah. Oh, my clearin'-up's not done yet! I declare, if I've redd up this room once, I've done it forty times this day. [Straightens things, then looks for her duster. Tom watches slyly.] Did I take that cloth downstairs wid me? Sure, I know I didn't. Where did I put it, then? 'Tain't here annywheres. Maybe that little squirrel hid it. Seen my duster, Tom?

Tom. No, I don't see your duster.

Sarah. Did I ax ye if ye saw it now? I said, have ye sane it?

Tom. And I said I didn't see it.

Sarah. Well, ye little fox, I know yer tricks, and I'll find it yet. Them as hides, finds, but sometimes other folks can find, too, when they know who did the hiding. Ah! what did I tell ye! I've got it at last. I knew ye put it somewheres. Now I can get my work done.

Tom. Well, don't you bother me.

Sarah [stands with hands on hips, looking at Tom, who scowls at her]. If I were you, I wouldn't scowl like that, Master Tom; yer furhead might stay that way.

Tom. If I were you, I wouldn't either.

Sarah. Ye don't look a bit pretty, Master Tom.

Tom. You don't have to look at me.

Sarah. See, this is what ye look like. [Makes a face and hunches up her shoulders. Tom refuses to look.] Do ye think that's rale handsome? [Aside.] Well, since I can't t'ase ye into a good humor, I'll go on down.

[Exit.

Tom. I did want to laugh at her awfully. If she comes in again, I think I'll just have to.

[Enter Daisy and Phil.

Daisy. We didn't go far, because it was so late. Phil, did you ever see anything so perfectly grand as that last window? [Taking off things.]

Phil. Never! Don't I wish I had that air-rifle!

Daisy. I'd rather have the doll's piano than anything else.

[Enter Sarah with Dot and Charlie.
Sarah takes children's coats, etc.

Sarah. Here, give me yer coats. Now just sit down and get warm for a minute, and then ye've got to go to bed. Yer Ma said so.

Daisy. Let's sing while we're here. We don't know our new carol very well. [All begin to sing a carol. Tom claps, stamps, whistles, and bangs his chair up and down, to put them out. They stop.]

Charlie. See here, Tom, if you don't want to sing, you don't have to, but you shan't stop us!

Sarah. No, sir! That ye shall not. Ye can't stay here makin' disturbances, so just be off with ye to bed. [Pushes him out. Children sing a carol, and curtain falls during last verse.]

CURTAIN

ACT II

Time: Christmas morning.

Scene: Sitting-room with open fire [back Center] in fireplace through which Santa Claus may enter. Father and Mother sitting by fire, Father with paper, Mother sewing. Phil and Charlie in one corner [R. Front], reading together. Daisy and Dot [L. Front] with dolls.

Daisy. And I caught Mamma! I hid behind the door, and jumped out and shouted "Merry Christmas!" before she saw me at all.

Dot [leaning towards Daisy]. Daisy, let's say it to Santa Claus.

Daisy. Oh, do you suppose he would like it?

Dot. Why not?

Daisy. Yes, I guess he would. Dear Santa Claus, nobody ever thinks of saying "Merry Christmas" to him.

Dot. Poor man! Well, Daisy, his little boys and girls might say it to him.

Daisy. Oh, Dot! He hasn't any little boys and girls to say it. Don't you know he's an old man, oh, hundreds of years old? And if he ever did have any little boys and girls, they're all grown up by this time.

Dot. Maybe he's got some grandchildren.

Daisy. No, I don't believe he has, for then why do they let him do all the work? Nobody ever fills stockings but Santa Claus.

Dot. Poor Santa Claus! He must get very tired.

Daisy. I wonder ... I wonder who keeps house for Santa Claus?

Dot. Maybe nobody does.

Daisy. Oh, yes! He must have somebody to make his fires, and cook his meals, and darn his socks.

Dot. Why, he doesn't wear socks. Don't you know, he's all dressed in fur in the pictures. But perhaps fur wears out and has to be mended. I'd like to help her do it.

Daisy. Perhaps she's a real cross, ugly woman, and scolds him when he stays out too long filling stockings, and doesn't give him enough sugar in his tea, and never lets him have but one cup!

Dot [shaking her head]. Poor Santa Claus! Aren't you sorry for him, Daisy? I am. [Daisy nods.] Daisy, if he hasn't any little children, I don't suppose anybody ever gives him any Christmas presents?

Daisy [pityingly]. No, I don't suppose anyone ever does.

Dot [excitedly]. Oh, Daisy, let's us give him a present this year!

Daisy. Oh, how splendid! Of course we will. But what do you think he would like?

Dot. Let's think. He travels all the time. Perhaps he would like a comb and brush case.

Daisy. Dot! You don't suppose he can ever comb out all that hair! It's a great deal too thick and snarly. He doesn't use a comb and brush.

Dot. Well, I'll give him my new purse.

Daisy. Santa Claus doesn't need a pocketbook to carry money—he doesn't buy things.

Dot. But he might come to a toll-gate on the road, sometime.

Daisy. All right. And I'll give him my silk muffler, for I'm afraid his housekeeper doesn't give him enough warm clothes. Come, let's get them. [Exeunt.]

Charlie. What's this picture about, Phil?

Phil. That's where Santa Claus is coming down our chimney.

Charlie. I wonder why he likes to come down chimneys? I'd have a latchkey, and come in at the front door.

Phil. Everybody doesn't have a front door just like ours, Charlie. His key wouldn't fit all the doors.

Charlie. But I'd have a magic key, that did. When Papa shaves, and puts that white stuff all over his face, he looks just like Santa Claus, but he wouldn't look like him long if he put his head up the chimney. Santa Claus must get very dirty,—perhaps he looks like the chimney-sweep.

Phil. Oh, no, he doesn't. You'll see how he looks pretty soon. Come along, let's try our new sleds.

[Exeunt.

Mother. My dear, I want to speak to you. [Father drops paper.] Sarah tells me that Tom has been very naughty and cross. He wouldn't do as she told him, and was disagreeable to the other children.

Father. Tom! Why, he's the best-tempered chicken I've got.

Mother. I believe you think so just because he's named after you. But he is really dreadfully provoking sometimes, and I don't know what to do with him now.

Father. Oh, ho! You've given up in despair, and want to fall back on me?

Mother. Not at all. But I'd like your advice. Would you pay no attention to it, or would you take him to task for his naughtiness?

Father. Mary, I always told you you couldn't manage the boys. You are too gentle and yielding. You are never strict enough. You ought to be firm, my dear!

Mother. Firm like yourself? Oh, Tom, who was it that wouldn't punish the boys when they played truant, and pretended to know nothing about it when they went in swimming unbeknownst?

Father. Oh, well, Mary, you couldn't expect me to be hard on them for the very things I did myself!

Mother. I knew I couldn't, so I attended to them myself. But I'll just send Tom in here, and let you try your luck with him. [Exit.]

Father. Try my luck, indeed! I flatter myself that I'll soon bring him around. [Stands before fire. Enter Tom, very slowly, hands in pockets.] Good-morning, Tom. [Very pleasantly.]

Tom [mutters]. Morning.

Father. That is no way to speak, my son. Good-morning, Tom.

Tom [a little louder]. Morning.

Father. See here, Tom, we can't have this. Your mother says you haven't been very good.

Tom. Don't care.

Father. Thomas, that is not a respectful way to speak to your father. What do you mean by it, sir? [No answer.] Do you mean to tell me? [Tom is silent, and stands looking down and kicking the leg of a chair.] Go upstairs and stay there until I send for you. [Exit Tom.] This is most extraordinary! What can have got into the child?

[Enter Mother.

Father. Ah, here's Mary again.

Mother. Well, what did you say?

Father. I—a—I scolded him.

Mother. What did he say?

Father. He said—well—in fact, he didn't say anything.

Mother. Wouldn't, you mean. Did you punish him?

Father. Punish him? No, I didn't punish him. Come, now, Mary, you don't mean to say you want me to punish him on Christmas morning? I really couldn't do that.

Mother. Oh, no, I don't want you to punish him.

Father. Well, my dear, on the whole, I think perhaps you'd better talk to him. I'll send him down.

[Exit.

Mother. I didn't think Tom could do much with that boy when he was contrary. [Enter Tom.] Well, Tom, dear, don't you want to come and sit with Mamma a little while?

Tom [rather doubtfully]. Ye-es.

Mother. Here is your little chair all ready. [Tom sits down with his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his hands.] Sarah has told me something that makes me sorry. She said that you were naughty last night? Is that so?

Tom [reluctantly]. Yes, I was cross.

Mother. She said you were cross again this morning.

Tom. Yes, I was naughty this morning, too.

Mother. Oh-h-h, Tommy! I'm so sorry to have my little boy so naughty on Christmas Day. Don't you think that when people want to be happy and glad, everyone ought to be good and pleasant, too?

Tom [the words drawn out against his will]. Yes, I think so.

Mother. And then there is the beautiful story of that wonderful first Christmas. Don't you think people were very happy on that Day? And you know we always think of that on Christmas, now.

Tom. Oh, yes, I do too.

Mother [reproachfully]. Then, Tom, how could you be so naughty?

Tom. Well, Mamma, do you think it's so dreadfully naughty to be cross?

Mother. It is not so naughty as some things you might do, but it is making other people unhappy, and don't you think that is pretty bad?

Tom. Well, Mamma, if a fellow didn't feel cross at all, but had a very good reason for being cross, would that be naughty?

Mother. I don't think there can be any good reason for being cross.

Tom. I do.

Mother. What is it?

Tom. It's a secret. It's a very good reason. I'm sorry it's naughty. I didn't think it was. But I'm not sorry I did it.

Mother. Oh, Tommy, it makes me feel badly to hear you talk so. I'll leave you here, and let you think it over. Perhaps you'll feel pleasanter after awhile. You can call me when you do.

Tom [leaving his little chair for a big one]. I'm sorry they all think I'm so bad, and I'm really very tired of being cross, but I must find out about Santa Claus, for if he's the kind of man that would bring anybody ashes or whips on Christmas, I don't believe I'll like him at all! [Jingling of bells in chimney.] What's that? [Louder bells.] I do believe he's coming now! [Jumps up.] Oh, dear! where are the others? I wish they would come! I—I—I guess I'm just a little bit afraid! [Gets behind his chair. Enter Santa Claus through the fireplace.]

Santa Claus. That's a fine wide chimney! [Stoops to look up it.] Why doesn't everybody keep a chimney like that for my special use? [Comes front.] I'm sure when I only come once a year, I ought to have some attention paid to my wants!

Tom [faintly]. Santa Claus!

Santa Claus. Hello! What's this? Where are you, anyway? [Looks about, then over chair, and sees Tom.] What! Hiding from me? Come out at once, and tell me what's the matter with you.

Tom [coming out]. Santa Claus, have you got the whip and ashes?

Santa Claus. Whip and ashes! Bless me, what's the boy talking about? Whip? I left my sleigh whip on the roof, if that's what you mean, and I never carry ashes around with me. What are you driving at? Hey?

Tom. Sarah said you gave whips to bad boys, and I've been very naughty—oh, dreadfully naughty!

Santa Claus. Naughty? Dear, dear! I'm sorry to hear that! And on Christmas, too! What a pity! When you knew I was coming? Dear, dear, dear!

Tom. Have you got the whip, then?

Santa Claus. No, no! I never give anybody whips—excepting toy ones, with a whistle in the end, like this—— [gives Tom one] ——and Sarah was just teasing you. I'll have to see Sarah about that. I won't have anybody telling stories about me. But, dear, dear, it makes me unhappy to think you could be so naughty. Why did you do it?

Tom [looks around cautiously]. Don't tell anybody, Santa Claus, but I was naughty on purpose, just to see if you would give me a whip.

Santa Claus. Well, that's a joke! Don't you know enough to see that you ought to have waited to ask me, instead of running such a risk?

Tom [remorsefully]. Sure enough! I could have done that! And now I've gone and made them all feel sorry, just for nothing.

[Enter Father and Mother.

Father. Well, well, here's Santa Claus! I haven't seen you for a long time. How do you do, sir, how do you do? [They shake hands.]

Mother [at door]. Children! Children! Come here!

[Enter children.

Children. Oh, Santa Claus! Santa Claus!

Daisy and Dot. Merry Christmas, Santa Claus!

Daisy. We've got some presents for you, Santa Claus. Dot and I thought nobody would remember to give you anything, so we wanted to. [Giving presents.]

Santa Claus. Well, really, my dears, these are very nice. Bless your little hearts, nobody has remembered me for some time, and that's a fact! Mr. Wright, how have these children been behaving themselves? Can I give them the nice things I have brought for them?

Father. Yes, sir! I'm happy to say, they have been very good, very good, indeed. Oh—— [aside] ——now I'm forgetting that rascal, Tom! [To Santa Claus.] That is—they've all been good except one—and he—a—well——

Mother [looking at Tom]. He is sorry now, I hope, Santa Claus, and will try not to do so any more.

Santa Claus. Oh! Ha-ha! you're talking about this fellow, are you? [Puts his hand on Tom's shoulder and draws him forward.] Well, he's just been explaining to me that it was all a mistake——

Father [sternly]. I hope he has not been trying to hide his misdoings from you, Santa Claus.

Santa Claus. Not at all, sir, not at all. He confessed like a man. But there is this about it that you didn't know. Somebody told him that I put whips in the stockings of naughty children. Well, he naturally thought I was to be distrusted—shocking way to malign me, wasn't it?—and of course he wanted to find out. So what did he do to test me but try to be naughty—acted it out to perfection, I've no doubt. Pretty severe on his brothers and sisters and parents, wasn't it? [Santa Claus and Father laugh.]

Mother. Why, Tommy, it's a pity you didn't just come to me and ask about it. It would have saved so much trouble. Why didn't you do that?

Tom. I never once thought of that way, Mamma!

Santa Claus. Well, my son, your thinking-cap is the only cap you don't have to take off in the house, so remember to keep it on, next time. Mr. Wright, I'm sure he feels sorry enough about his mistake to justify me in giving him his full share of presents. Come, children, look and see what I've got for you. I brought it last night, to have it all ready, and I think it ought to hold enough for all, don't you?

[Curtains at side of stage fall, and disclose the Tree.[9]
General distribution of presents follows.

NOTES ON COSTUME AND SETTING

For this play, ordinary costume is all that is required. Adult parts are taken by two girls and a boy, of fourteen or fifteen, and these, of course, need something especial, but little girls can easily borrow their equipment from mothers or sisters. Father Wright should wear a mustache and, if desired, a beard.

For Santa Claus costume, see note, p. 313.

See note on fireplace, p. 313.

THEIR CHRISTMAS PARTY

IN TWO ACTS

CHARACTERS

Their Christmas Party

THEIR CHRISTMAS PARTY

ACT I

Time: Afternoon of the 24th of December.

Scene: A street corner on a snowy day. Barrels and boxes in front of a small grocery store. Enter Dick and Dot, well wrapped up, dragging a sled.

Dick. Whew! that's a dandy coast, but it's pretty hard work pulling up.

Dot. Let's sit down a minute and rest. [They draw sled to left of stage and sit down side by side on it.] I'm so tired. Oh, Dick, I thought we were going to run over that poor gray cat, didn't you?

Dick [nodding]. It's lucky for her that she knew how to jump. The Comet would have hit her sure! This rope needs tying tighter. [Goes to front of sled and kneels down, fixing rope.]

Dot [looking around]. It's so nice and quiet here. No big boys ever coast on this street. Big boys always bump into you.

Dick [shaking his mitten at her]. Now, Dot, that's just the very reason I don't like it. You don't know how much more fun it would be to have just lots and lots of boys on this track all the time, climbing up and whizzing down. I bet none of them could beat this old sled.

Dot [doubtfully]. Maybe it would be nice, but, Dick, I think it's such fun to have just us two.

Dick. That's just because you're a girl and don't know. Come along, let's try the hill again. Shall we go over the bump?

Dot. No, I'm afraid. Let's start down here.

[Exeunt.

[Enter from Left, Jim and Polly.

Jim. If you're very cold, Sister, we can go home right off now, but I've got four papers left, and I want awful bad to sell 'em, every one, so's I can take the money to Granny.

Polly. No, I'm not so dreadful cold, Jim. And, 'sides, maybe Granny's not got home yet from work, and then you know we'd just have to sit on the doorstep and wait.

Jim. We'll stay right here. Folks will be going home soon, and lots of men pass this corner. Here's a nice box to sit on; I don't believe the store man will mind. You sit on that side, so, Polly, and I'll sit here, so, for the wind's blowing this way, and if I sit here it will hit me first, and I can keep it off o' you. [They sit back to back on the box.]

Polly. Oh, Jim, I'm afraid you'll be cold.

Jim. Oh, no, I won't. [Two men cross stage arm in arm.] Here's your Times, Star, Evening Post. Last edition. [Men shake their heads.] [Looking after men.] Pshaw! Well, maybe the next feller'll want one. [To Polly.] See, Polly, I can't be cold, I just stuff my hands in my pockets—— [His hand comes through.] No, that's the wrong place. I just stuff my hands in my pockets like this, and then I kick my heels like this. [Kicks on box with his heels.] That's very warming. And then I whistle. [Whistles lively tune.] If you just whistle you don't have time to think about the wind, see!

Polly [drums with her heels and tries to whistle]. But it hurts to kick your heels, and I can't whistle.

Jim. I'll tell you what. Let's try singing. Perhaps that's just as warming. Let's sing Granny's Christmas song. [They sing a verse of "God rest ye, merry gentlemen," or some other old-world carol.]

Polly. Jim, is to-morrow Christmas?

Jim [gloomily]. Yes, to-morrow's Christmas. [Aside.] And if somebody don't buy these papers pretty soon, I won't have enough pennies to get [counts on his fingers] that penny paper doll; nor the penny washtub, nor the jumping Jack, nor the paint box, 'cause that's three cents. [Enter man.] Here's your evenin' paper, sir! [Man stops and takes one. Exit.]

[Enter Dick and Dot, cross stage, and sit
down as before.

Dot. Wasn't that a nice coast, Dick?

Dick [absently]. Yes. [Rests his chin in his hands and elbows on his knees.] Dot, I do wish we lived in an orphan asylum.

Dot [jumps]. Oh-h! Why, Dicky Browne, you wouldn't have any papa nor mamma nor Aunt Jennie, nor anybody, nor anybody.

Dick. But just think what lots of brothers and sisters we'd have.

Dot. Well, you're all the brothers I want; 'nd I wouldn't give up Papa and Mamma for all the sisters in the world; so now.

Dick. Well, neither would I, but can't you see how much nicer times we would have if there was a lot of us, on holidays especially?

Dot. Well, I think we have an awfully good time, anyway. You said you liked Thanksgiving.

Dick. That was because of the dinner part. When we tried to play games and dance afterwards, what did we do? We played Hide the Thimble, and if I hid it there was only you to look, and of course you couldn't help finding it first. We had to play Going to Jerusalem with just one chair, and the two of us went around and around and around till we felt like the "Little Rid Hin" in John's story. I declare there aren't enough of us to play Puss-in-the-corner. Two children can't have any fun. [Puts his head down on his arms.]

Dot [sighs]. That's so.

Dick [lifts up his head suddenly]. And I'd just like to know what's the fun of coasting when you haven't anything to shout "clear the track" at, but ash barrels, and hens and cats that you can't run over anyway. I wish there were forty-'leven boys on the track this minute.

Dot. Well, I don't care about the track, but brothers and sisters are nice to play with. Wouldn't it be nice if there were two of you and two of me?

Dick. Two of us! I wish there were six of each of us. I wish I could go and live with the Ruggles's, in your story about the "Birds' Christmas Carol." There were nine of them and they only got washed about once a year. And folks weren't always saying, "Land! where did you get them dirty hands?"

Dot. That would be fun! We could play just as untidy games——

Dick. Don't talk about it, it makes me cross. [Folds his arms, crosses his feet, and whistles something sad. Dot gets out her handkerchief and spreads it in her lap.]

Jim [softly]. I say, Polly, that boy's got an awful nice sled.

Polly. Just look at his sister's muff. [Enter man.]

Jim [shouts]. Buy a paper, sir! [Man takes paper.]

[Dot turns and sees children, looks away, then
back again, turns to Dick.

Dot. Dicky, are you sure you are warm enough?

Dick. Warm enough! How could I be cold with a great big coat like this one? I feel like a polar bear. [Walks up and down to show size of his coat, then sits down. Dot turns and sees the children's ragged shoes.]

Dot. But are your feet warm?

Dick. Of course, with boots on.

Dot [sees Polly examining holes in her mittens]. But aren't there any holes in your mittens?

Dick. In my spick-span new mittens that Aunt Jennie made me? [Holds them up.] Dot, you're crazy! [Catches her looking at the children; looks himself, and then walks around the sled to sit facing Jim and Polly. Dot does the same. All four stare in silence.] Hullo!

Jim. Hullo, yourself!

Dick. Are you the boy that my papa gets his papers of?

Jim. Don't know.

[Dot walks decidedly over to Polly.

Dot. Let me feel your hands. They're just like ice; I knew it. Put them right in here with mine. [Kneels in front of Polly and puts her hands in muff. Dick moves sled close to Jim and sits astride of it.]

Dick. Have you sold all your papers?

Jim. No, I've got two left.

Dick. Isn't it lots of fun to sell papers and earn money?

Jim. I don't know,—not this kind of weather.

Dick. I think it would be fun. I wouldn't want to sell 'em on Christmas. Do you have to work on Christmas day?

Jim. Not if I don't want to. I did go out last Christmas, but nobody much came along. I suppose they stayed at home to keep warm.

Dot. No, I guess Santa Claus was coming to see their little children, and they wanted to see him too. [To Polly.] What do you want Santa Claus to bring you?

Polly. Santa Claus hasn't ever been to our house.

Dot. What, hasn't ever been to your house!

Dick. Haven't you ever seen him?

Jim. No, she never saw him, but I saw a stuffed Santa Claus in a window once.

Dick. Why, he comes to our house every single year.

Dot. I thought he went to everybody's houses in this world.

Jim [leaning toward Dick and speaking low]. I get Polly presents when I get enough money.

Dick. But doesn't Santa Claus fill your stockings?

Jim. No, and he never goes to Nicky Smith's house, nor Eddy Warren's, nor Jakey White's. They told me so. Here comes another man. Post, sir? [Man shakes his head.]

Polly. Jim got me some candy last Christmas, and Granny gave me a doll, only its head came off the next day.

Jim. That's an awful nice sled.

Dick. Haven't you got any sled?

Jim. No, but I coast on a board sometimes.

Dick. I'll let you try Comet. Don't you want to take Polly down?

Dot. Oh, yes, go; we'll take care of the papers.

Dick. Let's change places; we'll sell papers and you coast. And you must take our coats too. [Pulls off his things, Dot following his example.] Because the wind just whistles right through you, I tell you, when you go down that hill.

Dot. Oh, yes.

Jim. We're much obliged for the sled, but we can't take your things; you'll be cold.

Dick. No, we won't, and you must. [Helps him on with his own coat.] You see, you're cold now, and you won't have a good coast if you're not warm. Give me your cap. Here, take my mittens. Dot, take Polly's shawl.

Dot. Now, we'll sit right down here. Dick, you hold the papers.

Jim. Are you all fixed?

Dick and Dot. Oh, beautifully. Oh, thank you.

[Jim and Polly go off.

Dick [calling]. Put Polly on behind.

Dot. Mind the bump at the curbstone.

Dick. Oh, Dot, isn't this fun?

Dot. Yes, lots. Have you got the papers?

Dick. Yes, there are only two left to sell.

Dot. Let me get close up behind you, the way Polly did. Now you must drum with your heels, and whistle like Jim. [Dick does so.]

Dick. Here comes somebody. Now I'm going to call. Here's your evening papers, last edition!

[Enter two men, stop and buy a paper.

First Man [looking back]. That's a queer-looking newsboy. Somehow he looks like a rich child.

Second Man [pulling him off]. I can't see but the little scamp is ragged enough. Some of these newsboys aren't so poverty-stricken as they make out, anyway. Come along. [Exeunt.]

Dick. I've seen that man somewhere.

Dot. I think he's been to see Papa. Wouldn't it be fun if Papa came along and bought a paper of you?

Dick. And didn't know me. What a circus! Wish he would.

Dot. There come Jim and Polly. Wave your paper at them.

Dick [waving]. Hurrah, Jim, I sold a paper.

[Enter Jim and Polly.

Jim. Good for you. It was fine!

Polly. It was just grand!

Dick. Try it again. We like this, don't we, Dot?

Dot. Yes. Don't you want to go again, Polly?

Jim. Are you warm enough? honest Injun?

Dot. Yes, go on.

Jim. All right. [Exeunt.]

Dick. I knew Jim would think Comet was a boss sled. Don't you think Jim would be a nice brother, Dot?

Dot. Yes, if he washed his face. Polly would be nice for a sister, too.

Dick. We could all write letters to Santa Claus together. [Drums with heels and whistles.]

Dot [after a pause, rubbing her nose]. Well, if Santa Claus's nose ever feels like mine, it's no wonder it's red.

Dick [squirming]. Somehow, it's colder than I thought it was. The thermometer must be down to zero.

Dot. I'm sure it's nineteen below. I—I think a fire would feel real nice.

Dick. I'll take you home when they come up again. I'm not very cold. I wonder if Jim ever flops his arms like a street car driver. Maybe that would make him warm. Try it, Dot. [Both beat themselves with their arms.]

Dot. I don't believe anything would make me warm.

Dick [turning anxiously]. Dot, do you want my handkerchief?

Dot. Oh, no, I'm not going to cry.

Dick. Well, I'm glad, for it's in my pocket that Jim's got on.

[Enter man.

Man. Got a Times, boy?

Dick. Yes, sir, last one. [Exit man. Enter Jim and Polly.] Sold the last paper, Jim. Here's the money. We've got to go home now. [Changing coats.] Jim, I think it's very queer about Santa Claus. Is your house hard to find?

Jim. No, it's just right down this street, there on Friendship Alley. We're awfully much obliged for the ride. The Comet's a beauty.

Polly. I never was on a sled before.

Dot. Weren't you? We'll let you have ours again, sometime.

Dick and Dot. Good-night. [Exeunt.]

Jim. That's an awfully nice little chap, Polly.

Polly. Why, Jim, he's 'most as big as you are.

Jim. Oh, well, he's little somehow. I take care of you and that makes me big. Let's go home to Granny. [Takes her hand. Exeunt, singing another verse of their carol.]

CURTAIN

ACT II

Time: Christmas morning.

Scene: Sitting-room, with large old-fashioned fireplace[10] [back Center]. Toys scattered about. A small blackboard to left of fireplace. Dick and Dot sitting in little chairs. Dick, with a knife, whittling. Dot, with a doll. Both wear sprigs of holly.

Dot. Everybody has given us such lovely presents. It couldn't be nicer, could it, Dick?

Dick [sighing]. I think it could be just a little nicer. It would be nicer if we had a lot of brothers and sisters to help us play with the soldiers and the blocks and the dolls and everything. Oh, I wish—I wish that just for this one day I could have a whole roomful of children to play with.

Dot. I'm afraid Jim and Polly aren't having as nice a Christmas as ours.

Dick [shutting his knife]. So am I. I don't think Friendship Alley's a very nice place to have to live.

Dot. I wish they could have a Christmas like ours. I'd like to give them some things. Anyway, I'd like to show them our presents.

Dick [jumping up]. Let's!

Dot. When?

Dick. Now, right off. And, Dot, don't you know they said they had never seen Santa Claus, either. It's 'most time for him to come. Let's go and bring them over to see him.

Dot. All right. He'll give them something, too.

Dick. We'll hide them so as to surprise everybody.

Dot. Will Papa and Mamma like it?

Dick. Of course they will. Papa always likes our surprises, and Mamma will, I know, because it would make her feel so sorry if she knew there was anybody in the world that wasn't happy on Christmas. She says that's the happiest day in the year, and everybody ought to be happy. So we won't make her sorry by telling her about it. We'll just make them happy too.

Dot. We can have them take off their things in the nursery, and then Jim can wash his face.

[Exeunt. Enter Father, with paper which
he throws on table.

Father. Well, the children seem to have grown tired of their new things already. I don't see what has come over that boy lately. He talks of nothing but big families. I suppose the sight of the five little Blair children across the way is tantalizing, and it certainly is lonely for the two little duds with nobody but grown-ups in the house. Their efforts to be a large party in themselves, to play games, on Thanksgiving day, were really laughable, but they were pathetic, too. If Julia had thought of it, we might have had a little Christmas party for them. It's a good deal of trouble for Santa Claus to climb down a chimney for just two children. [Looks at his watch.] The old gentleman ought to be here in about half an hour. I wonder if it's too late to get some children now? Mr. Blair might lend me his youngsters for an hour or so. It would be such a nice surprise for the children. I could hide them somewhere, and at a given signal have them come out. I'll just step across the way and see.

[Exit Father. Enter Aunt Jennie.

Aunt. What a dreadful state the children have left this room in. That blessed boy! I knew he couldn't wait to try his new knife. His father would insist on giving it to him, though I'm sure it's dangerous. Here are his chips all over the floor, and Dot has had Dolly dressed and undressed a dozen times at least. [Sits down by fire, laughing indulgently.] The way those children have been talking the last few days is a puzzle! I can't think what started them. I never had but one brother myself, and I'm sure I was quite happy. What they want with ten brothers and sisters is beyond me. A dozen children in the house would be more than their father and Julia and I could stand, to say nothing of nurse and John. The two alone can think of quite enough mischief to drive the household crazy. I suppose our having so many friends when we were children made a difference. We never used to be alone at Christmas. After all, on holidays it would be forlorn. Too bad we didn't think of having a party. There are so many children who would think it a treat to come, too, who have no tree or Santa Claus at home. That little girl of Ellen Lee's must be all alone to-day. [Gets up decidedly.] I declare I'll just put on my hat and coat and go around there now and get her. It'll be such a nice surprise for the children.

[Exit in haste. Enter Mother. Takes up
doll, and sits down thoughtfully before the
fire, rearranging doll's dress.

Mother. Dolly, you'd be surprised if you knew how badly I'm feeling! I think I've been a very stupid, unrealizing sort of a mother, not to plan something to make the children have a really merry Christmas, as well as a happy one. It would have been so easy to have a little party of children here. Oh, Dolly, you know all about it better than I do myself, for didn't I just hear Dot confiding in you, and whispering in this little ear under your curls how she wished you were a real live sister to play with her? Now you see how I feel! Don't you see that if she had a hundred dolls, of wax or china or rags, she would still have a stupid Christmas? I haven't a doubt that you mean well, and you do fill a very large corner in a little girl's heart—I haven't got over my fondness for your race yet. [Kisses the doll's curls.] But you certainly are a trifle obstinate about responding to friendly advances. Poor children, it's so easy to give you pleasure! [Lets doll fall in her lap.] I might have had a nice, jolly, little ... well, it's too late now. [Sighs, then looks at her watch.] No! I don't believe it is, after all. I still have time to go for little Jerry Gray and his sister. They are just the ones! The children love surprises so. I'll hurry——

[Exit in haste. Enter Mary and John.
While they talk together they put the room
to rights.

Mary. Well, it do beat all, how thim children can make a room look like so many pigs and chickens had been running through.

John. Thrue for you, an' it does.

Mary. An' what fer need they be wishin' there was tin of thim to mess the house up worse?

John. An' did they do that, thin?

Mary. Sure they did. "Mary," says Dicky to me, "don't you wish that I was five little b'ys and Dot was five little girls? We do, we're so lonesome."

John. An' that's what I heard them sayin' as I was a-carryin' up coal this morning. "I wish I had a whole room full of brothers and sisters," says Dick. Faix! I wish I could give him some of mine, then. I've enough to spare.