Part 1
FESTIVAL PLAYS
UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME
PICTURE PLAYS
With cover inlay and illustrations. $1.25 net.
HOLIDAY PLAYS
Cover inlay and frontispiece in color by John Rae. $1.25 net.
CRANFORD: A PLAY
A comedy in three acts from Mrs. Gaskell’s novel. Cover design and frontispiece by Edwin Wallick. 12mo, $1.25 net.
THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD: A PLAY
Cover inlay and frontispiece in colors by John Rae. $1.25 net.
PRIDE AND PREJUDICE: A PLAY
Based on Jane Austen’s novel. Frontispiece and cover inlay. $1.25 net.
[Illustration:
“The World, a perfect sphere, all rainbow bright, Is yours to make, with every breath you draw.”]
FESTIVAL PLAYS
_ONE-ACT PIECES FOR NEW YEAR’S DAY, ST. VALENTINE’S DAY, EASTER, ALL HALLOWE’EN, CHRISTMAS AND A CHILD’S BIRTHDAY._
BY MARGUERITE MERINGTON
[Illustration]
NEW YORK DUFFIELD & COMPANY 1913
COPYRIGHT, 1913 BY DUFFIELD & COMPANY
TO MY SISTER MARY E. MERINGTON
CONTENTS
PAGE
Father Time and His Children (New Year’s Day) 7
Tertulla’s Garden, or The Miracle of Good St. Valentine (Valentine’s Day) 25
The Seven Sleepers of Ephesos (Easter) 79
Princess Moss Rose (For Every Child’s Birthday) 125
The Testing of Sir Gawayne (Hallowe’en) 209
A Christmas Party (Christmas) 263
A fee is charged for the stage use of any of these plays. Applications should be made to Duffield & Company, 36 West 37th Street, New York.
ILLUSTRATIONS
“The world, a perfect sphere, all rainbow bright, Is yours to make, with every breath you draw” (See page 294)
Frontispiece
“What! A pretty girl who does not recognize her own face!” facing page 62
“What, ho! ’Tis morning! See, the sun hath risen” facing page 118
“Look, Sir Knight! Behold the visage of your bride” facing page 258
FATHER TIME AND HIS CHILDREN
[Illustration]
FATHER TIME AND HIS CHILDREN
CHARACTERS
FATHER TIME and the TWELVE MONTHS OF THE YEAR.
COSTUMES, etc.: TIME, an emblematic figure; MONTHS dressed according to characters: JANUARY wears a mask at back of head, resembling face; FEBRUARY is the shortest child, and walks with a skipping leap at every fourth step; MARCH’S costume suggests the lion and the lamb, etc. Scenery may be elaborate, or simple, or dispensed with entirely. A sun-dial or a clump of rocks may be placed at back of stage, where TIME will take his position while the Months recite. Snow may be simulated by small pieces of white paper being gently dropped from above, or by a little salt being placed in the folds of a character’s coat, so that it drops off lightly, or by a frosty little dab of soap-suds on the shoulder melting almost immediately. Taking a commanding position TIME will summon each Month in turn by name, through a megaphone, then when the Month appears will retire to the back of stage till the recitation shall have been concluded. The Months will appear when summoned, in turn, disappearing on the opposite side of stage, if possible behind a piece of scenery, reappearing at back of stage, there to remain quietly till the ensemble at close. Appropriate music for exits and entrances may be used. The songs and dances may be arranged to popular tunes. Colored lights if skilfully handled may be used.
MUSIC: It ends with heavy chords marking time. Curtain rises disclosing FATHER TIME. He blows blast through megaphone, then speaks.
TIME.
What ho, hilly ho! Before you you see A being as ancient as old can be. Methuselah’s decades a thousandfold Would not have made him one thousandth as old. The ages of all the world and his wife Are not a speck on a patch on my life; Nay, all your ancestors strung in a line Would not reach back with their birthdays to mine; And though the agedest ancient you know The longer I live the older I grow! Oh, no one was ever so old as I, Nor ever will be, so ’twere vain to try! For, lo! I am TIME, your old FATHER TIME, The reason of wrinkles, the rhythm of rhyme; First aboriginal native of space; Earliest settler all over the place; The oldest inhabitant here, or there; The latest arrival everywhere. By the wink of my eye your clocks are set, And the corn you cut when my scythe I whet. ’Tis the wag of my beard marks music’s sound, Makes the sun come up, and the world go round. And you tell by my smile, or shake of head When to turn out, or to turn into bed! Now Time is money, so, therefore, you see Whoever wants gold must reckon with me; Though if I should look with a frown your way The gold of your hair might be changed to grey! Or, if your gold is a counterfeit crime, You may cheat the world, but you can’t cheat Time! The wealth I bring is a golden chance For making the best of your circumstance; But if too freely you spend what I give I shorten your days, as sure as you live! So you, the neighbours, the world and his wife Must come to me for the time of your life! For I can make you dance to ...
[_Dances and sings._]
Quick time and slack time; nick o’ time and back time! Back time and fast time; lack of time and past time! Last time and least time; fasting time and feast time! Little time and long time; tittle-tattle wrong time! Sleep time, and train time; keeping time to gain time! Best time to find time; lest you be behind time! Saint time and sinner time; fainting-for-dinner time! Night-time and daytime; right-you-are-time; playtime! Make time and meantime; take-your-time between time! Some time and no time; coming time and go time! Zig time and zag time; jigging time and rag-time! Prime time and high time; Time-to-say-good-by time!
[_Stops; wipes brow; speaks._]
Not so bad for an ancient eh?... And that is the way I shall dance to the END OF TIME! [_Goes to centre of stage._] And now let me present to you my twelve beautiful children! [_Begins to call through megaphone._] What, ho! [_Just then an unseen clock strikes twelve. TIME counts the strokes. As the last dies away he summons JANUARY. Instantly there is a great to-do behind the scenes: bells, horns, whistles, people cheering, etc. JANUARY appears._]
JANUARY.
When the old year dies at midnight’s chime Behold, I appear! The eldest and youngest child of Time, The Happy New Year!
Two faces I wear, like the Roman god At the temple door, Surveying the path by pilgrims trod, And the path before.
Backward looking, and looking ahead, Like that god in Rome; We read the roads we have yet to tread By the roads we’ve come.
Then, Janus-wise, with our double view, Let us bear in mind To bring no faults to the year that’s new From the years behind;
Only good counsels by which we live, Good thoughts and good cheer, For that is the way to get and give A Happy New Year!
[_Exit January._]
[_Enter FEBRUARY._]
FEBRUARY.
Behold the shortest month in all the year— And yet I hold my head as high As January or July, Since Washington by birth belongs to me, And Lincoln. Greater glory could there be? I’m sure you’ll all applaud and cry Hear, hear!
[_Pauses for this to be done._]
Also I proudly claim for mine That favourite Saint Valentine, Upon whose day birds pair and build their nest, Lads rhyme about the maidens they love best, And maids dream of the lads they hold most dear.
And then, each fourth time I come round I have to give a mighty bound, Like this! As if at leap-frog did I play. Thus to my twenty-eight an extra day I add, to keep the almanac in gear!
[_Exit FEBRUARY._]
MARCH.
[_Enters roaring._]
Wrapped in clouds and a flurry of snow, Like a roaring lion March comes in; All a boisterous, blustering blow! I rattle windows, and doors I slam; And people’s hats, to their great chagrin, I snatch and send on a whirling spin; Then, hiding in chimneys, laugh Ho, ho! Oh, what a practical joker I am!
Or, rocking the tree-tops to and fro, I climb aloft like a harlequin To play my pranks on the world below. Stout timbers creak when ice-flows jam From sea to harbour where ships come in; And flood and freshet their foam-wreaths throw, And mill-wheels turn with furious din As the mill-stream rushes over the dam!
“O wintry March, will it never go!” You cry, “and suffer sweet spring to win, With fields for ploughing and seed to sow?” Then how I laugh, for ’tis all a sham, My blustering roar and lion’s skin ... My practical joke, to take you in! For, see! I’m the mildest month you know, As I tiptoe off like a gentle lamb!
[_Exit MARCH._]
[_Enter APRIL._]
APRIL.
Ha, ha! Ha, ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha! Oh, dear, Oh, dear, Oh, dear! I am the saddest and the gladdest month of all the year! I cry and cry and cry until my tears make little pools Because upon my way I meet so many April Fools! And then I laugh and laugh until my sunshine dries my tears, Because though foolish April Fools those April Fools are dears! For some are foolish flowers that get out of bed too soon, Mistaking April’s laughter for the call of May or June; And some are foolish children who get out of bed too late, And go to school with tousled hair and most unseemly gait; And some are foolish grown-ups. But, in strictest confidence, I think.... Don’t you? ’tis time that these should have some common-sense! Ha ha, ha ha, ha ha, ha ha! Oh, dear, Oh, dear, Oh, dear! I am the saddest and the gladdest month of all the year!
[_Exit APRIL._]
[_Enter MAY._]
MAY.
Oh, I’m the merry month of May, The time of white and tender green That nature makes a gala day!
Of May-crowned queens I am the queen, The happy, singing heart of spring— A maiden turning seventeen.
The fairies weave a magic ring About my footsteps where I roam: I have not learned that nettles sting.
Beneath the blue of Heaven’s dome, Brushed by a feather from Time’s wing, The world at large I call my home.
Where flowers bloom and linnets sing Within the heart, is aye my home, The shrine of May, the soul of spring!
[_Exit MAY._]
[_Enter JUNE._]
JUNE.
See! The Heavens beam more brightly. Days are strewn Flowerful, like gardens sightly ... I am June!
Hark! The bird-note sounds more tender. Sweetest rune To my praises poets render ... I am June!
Speed the parting, hail the comer, Sun, stars, moon! I’m the rose, sweetheart of summer ... I am June!
[_Exit JUNE._]
[_JULY and AUGUST enter together._]
AUGUST.
AUGUST is my name, and I ...
JULY.
[_Interrupts._]
I speak first. I am JULY.
[_Together._]
Hand in hand we come.
AUGUST.
Because!
JULY.
That’s no reason. Nature’s laws!
AUGUST.
Nature’s laws? Same thing! Because!
[_Together._]
We together on our ways Scatter summer holidays.
JULY.
All the joys that we unfold Children would not change for gold.
AUGUST.
Nor would teachers, I am told!
JULY.
Boating ’mid the lily pads, Swimming; fishing for the lads ...
AUGUST.
With a worm upon a hook!
JULY.
Or with interesting book ...
AUGUST.
[_Interrupts._]
Dozing in some shady nook!
JULY.
Picking berries by the road; Riding on a haycart’s load!
[_Together._]
Oh, the pleasures that we bring ...
AUGUST.
Sitting idly in a swing, Just not doing anything!
[_Together._]
But, alas! our song must close. Summer passes with the rose!
[_AUGUST starts to go. JULY restrains AUGUST._]
JULY.
Wait until July has passed!
AUGUST.
[_Yawns._]
Nothing done from first to last! Nothing wears one out so fast!
[_Exeunt JULY and AUGUST._]
SEPTEMBER.
It is easy to remember the enchanting month September, With its mellow days, and nights starbright and clear, When Jack Frost starts to make merry then red leaf and scarlet berry And the purpling grape proclaim that autumn’s here!
Maples flame upon the grey side of the mountains, and the wayside Golden-rod, gold-hearted asters now adorn: Like old friends returned from places far away we greet their faces As we hasten to the husking of the corn. There are dry leaves for the raking, there are bonfires for the making; There are ruddy apples heaped upon the grass; And in spells of stormy weather, in some attic, barn, together, Oh, how gaily do we make the moments pass!
Aye, in sport and happy pastime we were quite forgetting class-time As it swiftly steals upon us unawares, With its sums that must be slated, and its dates that won’t stay dated, And the rocky road to learning’s many snares!
Then, as misers hoard their treasure, so we count our days of pleasure, Days that slip away as thread reels off a spool, Till resounding lamentation marks the close of the vacation, As we gather up our books and start for school!
[_Exit SEPTEMBER._]
[_Enter OCTOBER._]
OCTOBER.
Who says my month is dismal, sober? Now that’s a libel on October!
The winds come tumbling from the hills, Like boys at play; Like happy girls the mountain rills Dance on their way.
The trees wear coats of golden brown; Each breeze that stirs From chestnut boughs is bringing down The ripened burrs.
Then, when abroad the spirits flit, Unheard, unseen, A night of revels they permit ... All Hallowe’en.
For apples in a tub you duck, Or seek to know The spell to bring you love and luck From candle’s glow;
Or in a shadowed looking-glass Your future lot You may behold behind you pass, Or you may not!
A merry month indeed, not sober. I ought to know, for I’m October!
[_Exit OCTOBER._]
[_Enter NOVEMBER._]
NOVEMBER.
November’s the month for whole-hearted thanksgiving; For thanks for your being, and thanks for your living; For plenty to-day, and enough for to-morrow; For freedom from sorrow, or hope beyond sorrow. And if for naught else are you thankful, remember: BE THANKFUL YOU STILL ARE ALIVE IN NOVEMBER!
[_Exit NOVEMBER._]
[_Enter DECEMBER._]
DECEMBER.
There are snowdrifts by the wayside, there is writing on the pane, Where Jack Frost has left a message about winter come again;
There’s that tingling in the blood and there are sleigh-bells in the air, There is coasting down the hills, and slipping, sliding, ev’rywhere! There’s a stocking by the chimney hung on Christmas eve because There’s a chance you’ll have a visit from our old friend Santa Claus. There’s a bright star in the Heavens that proclaimed a wondrous birth When the Chosen Child of Children brought His Christmas day to earth;
There are mistletoe and holly in the woods to deck the hall, And Here’s the Christmas spirit wishing Merry Christmas to you all!
[_Exit DECEMBER._]
TIME.
[_Blows a blast._]
What, ho! Stand forth, all ye, my children!
[_The MONTHS appear._]
TIME.
These are my children, my children dear.
MONTHS.
Yes, we are the Twelve Months of the Year!
TIME.
Every year, for a bite and sup, I gobble them up!
MONTHS.
Gobbles us up!
TIME.
And every year, despite my pain, They bob up again!
MONTHS.
Bob up again!
TIME.
Throughout the world, in every clime; And so ’twill be, to the END OF TIME!
MONTHS.
Throughout the world, in every clime; And so ’twill be, to the END OF TIME!
[_Dance and sing._]
With our play days, jolly days; heydays and holidays! May days and mirth days; gala days and birthdays! Olden days; new days; golden days and blue days! Work days and school-days; shirk days, April Fool days! Sundays and sleek days; wonder days and week-days! Sundays and Mondays; rather underdone days! Mondays and Tuesdays; please-to-pay-your-dues days! Tuesdays and Wednesdays; women’s days and men’s days! Wednesdays and Thursdays; kittens’ days and curs’ days! Thursdays and Fridays; up-and-do-or-die days! Fridays and Saturdays; mad-as-a-hatter days!
[_They form a ring about TIME and dance round him, repeating the song, while TIME in the centre repeats his dance and song, “Quick time and slack time,” etc._]
CURTAIN.
[Illustration]
TERTULLA’S GARDEN
or
THE MIRACLE OF GOOD ST. VALENTINE
(founded on a legend)
_Valentine’s Day_
TERTULLA’S GARDEN
or
THE MIRACLE OF GOOD ST. VALENTINE
CHARACTERS
_VALENTINUS, a priest of the Christian Church in Rome._ _ASTERIUS, chief officer of the Prefect Calpurnius._ _PERTINAX, overseer of farm and gardens at the country villa of ASTERIUS._ _NERVA, a boy, servant in the town house of ASTERIUS._ _TERTULLA and QUARTILLA, unmarried daughters of ASTERIUS._ _MARONIS, a woman servant in attendance on TERTULLA and QUARTILLA._ _Other servants._
TIME: _The fourteenth of February [the sixteenth day before the Kalends of March] during the reign of the Roman Emperor Claudius II [A. D. 268-270]._
SCENE: _A room in the town house of ASTERIUS. The scene shows a room furnished in Roman style, but plainly, with table, chair, bench and stool. High up on one wall is an aperture with wooden shutters, now open to admit light and air. Through this window may be seen the branches of a tree, bare of leaf, yet with buds swelling, and a glimpse of sky. In the same wall is a door which gives exit to the lane at the back of the house. On the other side is a curtained opening to another room.... On the table are writing materials of the kind in use at the time. Seated so as to catch the light VALENTINUS is busily engaged in writing. Enter NERVA bearing a jar of steaming pottage, with a spoon, also a platter with a square, flat cake of bread._
NERVA.
Behold, your supper, Valentinus! [_He sets down his burden._] Supper, I say. And though but prisoner’s fare, yet, through some bewitchment you exercise over the entire household, myself excepted, seasoned with the cook’s best art! [_He sniffs the pottage._] M-m-m!
QUARTILLA.
[_Head between the curtains._] Bo!... Valentinus! Tilla says Bopeep!
VALENTINUS.
Ah, my little Quartilla! One sixtieth portion of an hour and I shall have done!... [_Still engrossed with work._]
QUARTILLA.
Sh! [_She enters on tiptoe, and one sees that she is an attractive child._]
NERVA.
What have you there, Quartilla? [_He tries to help himself from a basket of dainties she carries._] What, cheese cakes, almond cakes, and little tarts! M-m-m!
QUARTILLA.
Nerva! Audacious one, forbear! These are for Valentinus!
NERVA.
Wasted on him, when all day he does nothing but spoil good parchment with the juice of the cuttle-fish, only pausing to mend his split reed, or erase a mark with pumice-stone!
QUARTILLA.
He writes words of comfort to his afflicted people whom our godlike Emperor thinks fit to persecute!
NERVA.
[_Devouring a tart._] Persecute! By the immortal gods I like such persecution!
QUARTILLA.
Peace, brazen one! [_She goes to the curtains._] Enter, Pertinax, and gaze on our distinguished guest!
NERVA.
Distinguished guest! A jail-bird whom the jail is too full to hold, and so committed by the Prefect Calpurnius to the care of my master, Asterius, and in his absence to mine! Distinguished guest, forsooth!
PERTINAX.
[_Enters, a manly young fellow of pleasing personality. His arms are full of flowering branches, also he carries a basket of flowers._] So this is Quartilla’s wizard!
NERVA.
Quartilla’s wizard, everybody’s wizard. Well may you say so! How else but by wizardry do you account for Asterius sending him dainties from his own table ... Asterius who seals up the very salt-cellar in his thrift!
QUARTILLA.
[_Laughs._] Hush! That is my secret! I steal them for him! Though I present them to him with my father’s greetings, else, so honest is he, he would make me put them back! [_The OTHERS exclaim._] Yet, do you know, sometimes I fancy my father sees the theft, but turns his head aside!
NERVA.
Magic! [_Going._] By the gods and goddesses, why am not I a Christian and a prisoner!
VALENTINUS.
[_Laying work aside._] These lengthening days tempt me to prolong work! Now, Tilla; is it a doll to be mended, or a table in weights and measures to be learned, or.... [_He pauses, seeing PERTINAX._]
QUARTILLA.
This is Pertinax, overseer at my father’s farm!
VALENTINUS.
Greetings to you, Pertinax!
PERTINAX.
And to you kindly, Valentinus. May the blessing of the gods be to you as a plenteous year’s harvest! [_He sets down his burden._] Though I am told that you Christians no longer believe in our ancient gods of Rome!
VALENTINUS.
But we believe in blessings, from whatever source!
PERTINAX.
That lies beyond my comprehension. But then, I am told, you work miracles!
QUARTILLA.
Indeed he does! He has mended my doll’s nose, and made me remember how many quarts of water you can pour into an amphora!
NERVA.
[_Entering with an amphora of water while she speaks._] As if anyone could not do as much!
QUARTILLA.
None other has ever done it, all the same!
NERVA.
[_Arms akimbo._] Come, then, wizard; prove yourself! dispose for us some prodigy!
VALENTINUS.
What, Nerva, would you consider such?
NERVA.
Oh, that a hen should crow, or a black dog should suddenly bound through the room, or a snake come down the pipe into the cistern, or that the statue of Jupiter should laugh!
VALENTINUS.
None of which things can I bring to pass! Nor do I call them miracles!
[_NERVA laughs, sneering._]
PERTINAX.
How, sir, do you define a miracle?
QUARTILLA.
Instruct them, Valentinus! Give them proof!
VALENTINUS.
[_Rolling up his parchment, thoughtfully._] Hm! Well, then, will you, Pertinax, and you, Nerva, walk a few paces from me toward the door?
QUARTILLA.
[_Dancing with joy._] A proof! A demonstration!
VALENTINUS.
Not so! Merely a definition!... Toward the door!
NERVA.
[_Mocking, though complying._] Which, no doubt, will fly open of its own accord at our approach!
[_The TWO comply, walking toward the door._]
QUARTILLA.
[_Dancing about._] Now you’ll see; you’ll see!
[_With his rolled parchment VALENTINUS gives each youth a sharp blow across the shoulders. With an indignant cry they turn about._]
PERTINAX.
Now, by Hercules...!
NERVA.
May Castor and Pollux rend me if I see...!
VALENTINUS.
[_Mildly._] Did you feel that blow, Pertinax?
PERTINAX.
By Hercules, how should I not do so!
VALENTINUS.
Ah! And you, Nerva?
NERVA.
By Castor and Pollux, am I a stone!
VALENTINUS.
Ah! Well, it would have been a miracle if you had not felt it!
[_The TWO look rather discomfited, then PERTINAX laughs, seeing the humour of it, while NERVA goes, crest-fallen._]
QUARTILLA.
[_Recovering from delighted mirth._] Oh, that was lovely! But, come, now. Pertinax has a secret to confide in you. Meanwhile eat your supper. It is past the ninth hour, and all day you have worked fasting! Oh, not that bread! My father’s greetings and will you partake of this! [_Substitutes fine bread from her basket for that which NERVA has brought, whereon NERVA at the curtains coughs._] Now, Pertinax! What, bashful? Then I’ll tell! He writes poetry! Beautiful poetry!
PERTINAX.
[_Modestly, though flattered._] Oh, modest strophes that call for an indulgent ear! Numbers whose measures course through my brain while I superintend the pruning and grafting, the ploughing and planting! As for instance, by your leave! [_Taking out a scroll he reads._]
LOVE CAPTIVE
Love Captive bound the Muses fast With garlands fair! Love into prison then they cast, In Beauty’s care! When Venus fain would set him free Love ransomed will not go his way, Since, if a youth, ensnared he be, A slave forever Love will stay!
QUARTILLA.
[_Rapturously._] Is it not heavenly?
VALENTINUS.
Truly it has ever been a favourite of mine since in my schoolboy days I conned my Anacreon! [_PERTINAX looks discomfited, QUARTILLA sympathetic, while NERVA, looking in at the curtains, bursts into peals of laughter._]
NERVA.
Anacreon! By Momus, but that’s funny! Anacreon, indeed, my poet!
PERTINAX.