LITTLE PLAYS FOR LITTLE PLAYERS (Shoemaker seated repairing shoes, enter Old Lady and Karen.) Old Lady I would like to see some shoes for my little goddaughter, Karen. She is to be confirmed next Sunday. Her mother is dead and I have taken her to live with me. poor child had nothing but a pair of red cloth shoes when I took her. Shoemaker What kind of shoes do you wish, madam? Karen (whispering to the Shoemaker) I want a pair of red leather shoes. Shoemaker (takes down a pair of red shoes) Here are a pair of shoes I made for a count's daughter, but they did not suit her. Perhaps these will fit. Old Lady (who is deaf) What kind of leather are they? I cannot see very well. Shoemaker They are of the finest red morocco, Madam. Old Lady Did you say red? Karen (interrupting) He says they are of morocco, godmother. Let me try them on. Shoemaker (trying on the shoes) They are certainly a fine fit; only, Madam, they are Karen (interrupting again quickly) Oh, do take them godmother, they fit so well! Godmother (feeling of the shoes) They certainly do fit well. I suppose they are of shiny leather, they shine so. The Karen Yes they do shine, and they just fit me. Shoemaker They are a bargain, Madam. Old Lady Well, I'll take them. (Shoemaker wraps up the shoes, old lady pays for them, and they go out.) Shoemaker I don't believe the old lady knows those shoes are red. Well (shrugging his shoulders) it's no concern of mine. SCENE II (Old Lady and neighbors seated talking, the following Sunday.) Old Lady (proudly) How did you think Karen looked in church this morning when she was confirmed? I could not see very well. First Neighbor Handsome is as handsome does. She looked all right. Second Neighbor Everybody is talking about her shoes. Old Lady Yes, I thought they were pretty ones when I bought them. They were made for a count's daughter. The leather is so shiny. Neighbors (holding up their hands in astonishment) Then you knew that she wore them? Old Lady What do you mean? (Enter Karen.) Karen Here I am, Godmother, back from church. Goodday, Neighbors. Neighbors (coldly) Good-day, Karen. First Neighbor How do you like wearing red shoes to church? Old Lady Red shoes in church! Red shoes in church! What do you mean? Second Neighbor You said you bought them: Didn't you know they were red? Old Lady (horrified) Most certainly not! Red shoes in church! Red shoes! (Turning to Karen) You must never, never do such a thing again. Do you hear me, Karen? Karen (hiding her face in her hands) Yes, Godmother! Old Lady Now go to your room and stay there until I call you. Red shoes in church! Red shoes in church! Confirmed in red shoes! Thank you, neighbors, for telling 2 (Old Lady and Karen come walking in together. People People pass by them and enter door of church. Old soldier stands in the doorway leaning on a crutch. Singing is heard inside of the church.) Soldier (to Old Lady) A good day to you, lady. May I dust off your shoes? Karen (pulling at the Old Lady's dress as she does not hear) Godmother, the old soldier wants to dust off your shoes. Old Lady Oh thank you, thank you, old soldier. Yes, you may dust off my shoes. (She puts out first one foot and then the other and the old soldier dusts them off.) Thank you, old soldier. (She drops some money into his hand.) And now you may dust off Karen's shoes. Karen (holding out her foot with the red shoe on) Dust mine, too. Old Soldier (slapping soles of shoes with his hands) Sit fast when you dance. (Karen looks frightened. Old Lady and Karen pass inside of church. Presently they come out. People come out also.) Old Soldier (looking at Karen's shoes) What pretty dancing shoes! (Karen begins to dance and dances away.) Old Lady Karen! Karen! What are you doing, child?. Come back at once. Karen (calling over her shoulder) I can't, Godmother, I can't stop. Oh stop me! (She dances out of sight.) Godmother (hobbling after) Oh, my poor Karen! My poor Karen! Stop her, somebody, quick! (They all run after Karen except the old soldier, who stands looking after them laughing) Old Soldier Dance on, my pretty Karen, dance on and on until thou art old and gray. (He goes off laughing.) (Karen dances by a church. Same as in Scene IV. An angel with drawn sword stands in the doorway. Singing is heard inside of the church. Karen tries to enter, still dancing, but he bars her way with his sword.) Karen Have pity on me, kind angel, and let me enter. Perhaps I may find rest within. Angel Nay, thou cannot enter. Dance you shall from door to door, and where proud and haughty children live. you shall knock, so that they may hear thee and fear thee. Dance you shall, dance on. Karen Mercy! (She dances on, sometimes pausing a moment to knock at a door.) Oh how sorry I am! How sorry I am! O Godmother, if I had not deceived you! I wish I had worn my old black shoes to church and minded you. You were so kind to me too. Oh, if I might see you once more and tell you how sorry I am. (Enter Fairy.) Fairy You say you are sorry? Karen Oh, yes, yes! Cut off my feet. Anything, that I may be freed from this horrible spell. Rosemary ALICE E. ALLEN THE STORY PAGE V Rosemary Goes into Business Summary Rose and Mary Dawson, little twin girls who look exactly alike and who live on a farm away from everybody, are going to school in town for a year, a month each, turn and turn about, as Rosemary Dawson. So far, in spite of some strange happenings, no one at school has found out that there are two Rosemaries. The night before Christmas, Jinny 'n' John 'n' the Baby arrive, as "three small Christmas gifts" from Aunt Mary Craig. Now it is Rose's turn to be Rosemary. "Cynthy," said Mary suddenly. Cynthy was mending at one side of the table. Mary was doing something with a piece of paper and a stubby pencil. Jinny and John were sliding down hill in the backyard. The Baby was asleep. "Well?" said Cynthy. "Do you think we could spare all the eggs my twelve hens will lay through January?" "Well," said Cynthy again, as she threaded her needle, "with all the good layers we have besides yours, I should think we might. But what on earth do you want of eggs, Mary?" "I've been calculating," said Mary. "If I could get eight eggs every single day for thirty days, I'd have two hundred and forty eggs-that's twenty dozen. And if I could sell them for thirty cents a dozen, I'd have six dollars. And the coat is six dollars, since it's marked down." "Coat?" said Cynthy. "There's a gray coat in Ames' store that Rose wants dreadfully. She stops to look at it every day - almost. It is pretty, and if you can spare the eggs, I'll get it for her birthday the last day of January, you know." "Ask your father for the money," said Cynthy. "Father has so much extra expense now with Jinny 'n' John 'n' the Baby," said Mary. "Besides I'd love to give Rose a present all myself." Maybe Cynthy knew Father was in the kitchen. Mary didn't, for her back was toward the open door. And just then, Jinny 'n' John came in, wailing as usual. Cynthy and Mary had grown so used to their howls, that they scarcely did more than say "Hush!" and "You'll wake Baby!" But of course Jinny 'n' John didn't hush, and of course they did wake Baby. And the air was so full of wails and woes, that such things as coats and eggs were forgotten. That same night, Cynthy and Rose were washing and wiping the supper dishes. Father lay asleep on the lounge in the dark living-room. Mary was upstairs putting the babies to bed, her voice singing patiently, "The ground was all covered with snow one day," mingled with the splash of Cynthy's dish-water. "Cynthy," said Rose softly, "do you s'pose we could spare all the eggs my twelve hens will lay this month?" Cynthy paused, both hands in the dish-water, to stare at Rose. "Are you Rose or Mary?" she asked. "Rose, of course," said Rose. "It's Mary always takes care of the children, when she's here. I can't do anything with them." "What do you want of eggs?" asked Cynthy, beginning to splash again. "I've reckoned it all up," said Rose. "If I could sell twenty dozen I'll get this month, for thirty cents a dozen that's what Mr. Brown pays - I could get six dollars. And that's just the price of the gray coat at Ames' store that Mary wants so much." Cynthy smiled queerly. "Why not ask your father?" she said. "I did think of it," said Rose. "He hasn't had to buy us anything since we began school. But with Jinny 'n' John 'n' the Baby here, I knew it wouldn't do any good. Besides, I want to earn it myself." "We can spare the eggs all right," said Cynthy. Next morning, after she had tied Old Fan in her stall and blanketed her warmly, Rose met Mr. Brown puffing up the steps that led from the street to his yard. "Oh, Mr. Brown," she cried, "you send eggs to the city, don't you?" "When I can get any got some to sell, Rosemary Daw son?" "I want to sell all my twelve hens will lay this month," said Rose. "I'll take them and give you thirty cents a dozen," said Mr. Brown briskly. "Going into the egg business?" "For awhile," dimpled Rose. Then she grew confidential, as she often did with Mr. Brown. "You see, Rosemary Dawson needs a new coat. See how shabby her old one is?" "Tisn't heavy enough for this weather," said Mr. Brown. "Bring along the eggs, Rosemary Dawson, as many as you can." That same noon, waiting for him in the snowy path, at the foot of the steps, Mr. Brown again found Rosemary Dawson. "Mr. Brown," she said timidly, "do you send eggs to the city?" "I'll take them - I'll take them," said Mr. Brown. "And Then It was Rosemary's turn to stare now. How did Mr. Brown know about the coat? She wished his voice wasn't so big she would have liked to ask him. When she told Cynthy, Cynthy laughed. "Maybe he saw how shabby your old one was," she suggested. But when Mary had hurried away to quiet Jinny 'n' John 'n' the Baby, Cynthy added to herself, "Guess before Mr. Brown gets forty eggs from Rosemary Dawson he'll think he's seeing double, just as Billy did that night." Whatever Mr. Brown thought, he kept quiet. Each Saturday morning, Rosemary arrived with her eggs and was paid. Some time before night, she arrived again with more eggs, and was paid again. The first Rosemary always dimpled and laughed. The second one was timid and in a great hurry. So the January days blew across the snowy hills. And Old Fan carried Rosemary Dawson up and down, up and down, the drifted hill road. Only one important thing happened to her in school. She was asked again to become a member of the M. S. She accepted at once and became a very active member indeed, greatly to poor Mary's sorrow." "What will she do next month?" she cried. "I know I know. She'll ask the M. S. to get up a little play!" At last the birthday morning arrived. It was a brilliant blue and white day with the snow creaking at every step. Mary hurried through her work. But it was almost noon when she entered Mr. Ames' store and asked for the gray coat. "I sold it yesterday, Rosemary," said Mr. Ames. Mr. Ames was still thinking of Rosemary's sorry eyes, when he saw her coming back. Her eyes weren't sorry any more, but dancing in time to the dimple which came and went. "There,' ," she cried, laying four one dollar bills and twɔ dollars in change on the counter," there's the money - and I want the gray coat right away, please." "But I told you it was sold," said Mr. Ames. "It was," said Cynthy, "and he said it was for the one who goes to school." "Oh, oh, oh!" cried the twins, hugging the coat and each other. "Which one's going to have it?" asked Cynthy. I (To be continued) The New Year's Gifts CAROLYN SHERWIN BAILEY T seemed as if the child had, already, everything that one could wish for her. She had a kind mother and a home full of toys and dolls. She had many pretty frocks and a pony carriage and a garden full of flowers. She had yellow curls and pink cheeks and blue eyes "What else could a little girl need?" wondered Old Father Time, who leaned over the little white bed on New Year's Eve, with all his children, the months, about him, and each one eager to give a New Year's gift to the little girl. "She is a rich child," said old Father Time in his gruff voice, "and I don't see that there is very much left for us to give her. Still, my children, you may be able to offer her your gifts. "January, what will you give my child?" January leaned over the child's white bed and drew from under her white cloak one trembling, crystal snowflake. It was as beautiful in form as a star and as full of color as a rainbow. It lay like a flower upon the blue quilt that covered the little girl, and it shone like a diamond. "She never saw before how pretty a snowflake is. Now she will know," said January. "Have you anything to offer, February?" asked Father Time, as January slipped back to his place with the other "Oh, dear!" cried Rosemary. "Why it just can't be, Mr. months. Ames." "But it is," said Mr. Ames. "How strange of her to come back," he said to Mrs. Ames that night when he told her all about the gray coat. "Perhaps she wanted me to know she had the money for it." That same night after much singing and trotting and coaxJinny 'n' John 'n' the Baby had dropped off to sleep. Mary went slowly down stairs. In the living-room at the foot of the stairs, waiting for her, was Rose. Both looked as if they had been crying not so very long ago. "Mary," said Rose, "I tried so hard to get the gray coat for Rosemary but but it was sold!" "You tried, Rose?" cried Mary. "Why so did I - and it was sold." "I will give the child this flag," said February, spreading the folds of a wonderful silk flag over the foot of the child's bed. Whenever she plays with it, the colors will tell her a story. The red will tell her to be brave, the white will tell her to be pure, and the blue will tell her to be true." "That is indeed a wise gift," said Father Time. Then, turning to March, he said: "And you, my blustering son, can you make the little girl happy?" March, with streaming locks and wind blown garments, stepped forward, and put a frail, dainty little wind-flower in the child's fingers. It was a more lovely flower than any which the child had ever seen before. Then all the months, in their order, came to the bedside of the little sleeping girl, and laid their gifts about her. April in her frock of green, and with her blue eyes smiling through a mist of tears, gave as her offering a bunch of green, green grass, as she breathed a bird song in the child's ear. May laid a garland of daisies upon the child's head, and June, her arms filled with roses and wild strawberries, dropped one berry between the child's red lips. July gave her a bit of fine white sewing and a silver thimble and a shining needle. "Vacation time is idle time," said July, "and the child must learn to be busy for others." August, her shoulders draped with soft green seaweed and her arms twined with coral, laid a white sea shell lined with pink upon the child's pillow. "My shell will sing pretty songs to the child," whispered August. "They will be songs about the great ships that sail on the ocean, songs about the mermaids, the waves, and the tides." September carried many gifts in her arms; rosy apples, and purple grapes, and russet pears, but from them all she selected one offering for the child. It was a little red school bag, strong, and pretty, and full of fresh new books. "The little girl will love learning," said September. October, with a border of purple asters sewed to the edge of her skirt and a crown of goldenrod upon her head, gave the little girl one red leaf from the armful, yellow and brown and scarlet, which she carried. It was the color of a bit of flame and very, very beautiful. November gave the child a sweet, brown loaf. "When she eats this, she will taste the flavor of the wheat. She will hear the song of the mowers and the whir of the miller's wheels. She will learn industry and thrift from the baker, and the bread will make her strong and beautiful," said November. Last of the months came December, dressed in scarlet, with a wreath of Christmas green upon his head and a great sack of toys upon his back. Dolls and picture books and sweets filled the sack, but not one of these did December select for his gift to the child. Instead he touched her eyelids with sweet ointment, and opened the window of her room wide that the light of the evening star might shine full in the child's face. "The child will be full of the spirit of goodness. She will Winter Games for the Schools W GRACE KING 7ITH the cold days comes Jack Frost, the roguish elf, biting the fingers and toes and making us draw our wraps more snugly about us. Just now is the time to open the windows and let the bracing winter air into our school-rooms at brief and frequent rest periods, and with a cheery motion song, exercise or game, bring the laughter into tired little eyes and the rosy color into dimpled baby faces. Try these little recreations on cloudy winter days, when tiny feet are restless and baby minds are weary. The whole mental and physical atmosphere will be changed and all will feel refreshed by the bit of rest that has been sandwiched into the day's trivial round of common tasks. There are so many pretty motion exercises for the winter season that I will mention only a few. I find that the babies about the jolly, teasing boy and the tricks he plays on all of do not fear Jack Frost nearly so much if we have chatted us. After such a talk the wee ones will run fast to school so as not to be caught by the rude fellow and sometimes the children become brave enough to laugh about frosted finger be generous, and will give more happily than she accepts tips. We love to recite together these few stanzas with approofferings," said December. "You have given the child the blessings of a year," said Father Time, "and now we must hasten to the next house." So, folding his long cloak about him, and followed by the months, Father Time went softly out of the house, and no one heard him go, and no one knew that he had been there. But in the morning the little girl awoke, with a new smile upon her face. "I have had a dream, mother," she said, "and so many gifts. They are not gifts that I can handle and touch, and I cannot show them to you, but I remember them, mother, every one." priate gestures: JACK FROST And he peeps through the little cracks everywhere. He makes little girls say "Oh! oh! oh!" And he makes little boys say "Oh! oh! oh!" (Shake hands vigorously up and down to warm tingling fingers.) But when we kindle up a nice, warm fire, (Hold hands palms out toward imaginary blaze.) Then Jack Frost is compelled to retire. So up the chimney skips the roguish boy, For he makes little girls say, "Oh! oh! oh!" What a happy day it is for all the children when the weather man concludes to favor us with the first feathery snowflakes! More than one little hand will point to the window to call teacher's attention to the very first little cloud fairies. Then we all stop just a minute to welcome this gift from above, either by a little talk about the snow crystals, and the fairy forms they make, as they rest so lightly on our dark clothing; or by a little song or poem we celebrate the first snowfall. "Merry Little Snowflakes" is enjoyed by all of us and it is such an easy poem that it can be learned in a very few minutes. We generally say it over a number of times and then with appropriate gestures have a miniature snowstorm in the aisles, where each child with fluttering fingers helps the flakes to fall slowly down, down to the ground, so that Mother Nature can throw a white blanket over the sleeping leaves and flowers. Sometimes all the little tots are snowflakes and dance lightly on their toes around the room just as quietly and daintily as the snow is falling outdoors, because snow fairies never, never make any noise. Then, again, the wee ones trip to the front of the room, where we can all see them, and cuddling together make a very large snow-bank, while they say: One little snowflake would not be felt, One little snowflake would quickly melt, But I'll help you and you'll help me And then what a big snowdrift there'll be. Then altogether we say: Merry little snowflakes, dancing in the air, And kissing all the children as they run along the street. Now, for the winter indoor games, that we all love so much, When the ice becomes strong enough to hold us on the pond, we play our Skating Game in school if there is room enough, |