Chapter II: Part 2

WASHINGTON (starting up, gazing at her, and then brushing his hand across his eyes). I thought I was studying before the fire; but instead I've been dreaming . . . dreaming!

RED ROWAN (shaking her head). No dream! Only a woodsman's daughter. You can hear my father yonder, felling oaks. I saw the glimmer of your fire and came.

WASHINGTON (with a boyish courtesy and shyness). Will you--will you not be seated?

RED ROWAN (seated on bearskin, looking at fire). Folks call me Red Rowan.

WASHINGTON. My name is Washington. George Washington.

RED ROWAN (still looking at the fire). You have a shrewd fire, and the air is chill in these mountains.

WASHINGTON. Will you not have some bacon and bread? I wish there were more to offer you.

RED ROWAN. I'll have a taste of the bacon and a morsel of bread. (Washington begins to prepare them). I thank you.

WASHINGTON (toasting bread and bacon). The wilderness must be rough-seeming to you.

RED ROWAN. I'm well-used to deep forests and long, hard journeys, for the love of a trail is in my blood. My grandfather was a gentleman rover, and my father a frontiersman, and my mother was--a gipsy.

WASHINGTON (surprised). A gipsy?

RED ROWAN (nodding). Aye, but she died when I was little, and lies buried oversea. 'Tis ten years now since my father came from England, and brought me with him.

WASHINGTON. You have known little of a roof, then.

RED ROWAN. Aye, or of schooling. But forests are kind teachers, and have given me much. There is a lore deeper than the lore of books. You too must know it. For with lonely campfires and winding roads and sharp, white, frosty stars one comes to gather wisdom. Schoolbooks may give you the past, but it is in my blood to know----

WASHINGTON (as she pauses). The future--!

RED ROWAN (slowly, gazing at fire). Or so I tell myself. I must ofttimes make up fancies to help the long days pass. (Rises.) Come, for a jest, let me read your palm, Master Washington. And in after years you may say: "Why, so Red Rowan told me!"

WASHINGTON. Would you have me put faith in witchcraft?

RED ROWAN (offended).Do I look like a witch? Nay, but you know right well I do not. Come, let me read your hand. 'Tis a mere jest, and will do no harm, and you need not believe a word I say.

WASHINGTON. I will not, if it is flattering; for I have learned aforetime that _humility is the forerunner of advancement._ [Footnote: Washington's own words]

RED ROWAN (seated on mossy log, as she reads his hand). What would you wish to be?

WASHINGTON (simply). When I grow older, a man of deeds, not words. [Footnote: Washington's own words]

RED ROWAN. Well, then, give hither. (Reading his hand.) Your name is Washington, and you come from beyond Blue Ridge. All this I know. For the rest, let me read. You are well versed in woodcraft, but not so well in books.

WASHINGTON. There I must mend me.

RED ROWAN. Aye. You are a notable horseman: your wrist is quick at the foils; you can swim, climb, and fight, if need be. You are strong, and your valor equals your strength, your courtesy, your bearing. The line of truth is here. You smile?

WASHINGTON. I was thinking of the matter of a hatchet and a cherry tree!

RED ROWAN (still reading). Through all your life, success will smile upon you. Here are the marks of battles. Here are the lines of hardships and of victories. And all these little lines--see, marches, marches, marches! You'll be a colonel, and perhaps a general. You laugh? Some day you'll see! 'Twill all come true! You'll fight in a great cause.

WASHINGTON (puzzled). What cause is there to fight for?

RED ROWAN. That I do not know. But here 'tis clearly written. And you will win. Your name will be on all men's tongues. 'Tis a long road, and all up hill. But at the summit--triumph! Remember that. Upon the summit is triumph.

WASHINGTON (half-soberly). And for the rest?

RED ROWAN. You'll be upon a farmstead with great, rolling acres.

WASHINGTON. Forest or farmstead, I care not which. That part is true enough, Mistress Rowan. There was a time when I wished to go to sea; but now I hope to spend my life at Ferry Farm.

RED ROWAN (rising). Part of it will be spent far otherwise. Remember that I told you.

WASHINGTON (courteously). Aye, I'll remember, tho' 'tis but a jest.

RED ROWAN (pausing). Aye, a jest wrought of gipsy magic. I wish you well, Master Washington, and I thank you for your hospitality.

FRONTIERSMAN'S VOICE (calling from right). Rowan!

RED ROWAN (answering). I'm coming, father. (To Washington.) Remember, Master Washington, that I told you.

[Exit Rowan, quickly and lightly.

WASHINGTON (smiling to himself). Remember! Why, 'tis the merest jest.

CAREY (from background). Time's up, George! There's wondrous sport. Are you not coming?

WASHINGTON (to Carey). Aye, I am coming. (To himself.) But the merest jest! "To fight in a great cause--!" "A long hill, and a hard, and at the summit--triumph!" (Shaking off the spell the words have cast on him). The lads would laugh, did I but tell them! (Calls, in answer to impatient steps, and crackling of leaves in background.) I come!

[He makes his exit into background, running blithely, and the play ends.

COSTUMES

GEORGE WASHINGTON. Frontiersman's suit, modeled on Indian lines. The suit is tan-colored, supposedly made of dressed deerskin. The breeches and tunic are fringed, Indian fashion. There is neither paint nor beading upon the suits. Moccasins. The other lads wear suits of the same kind. The material can be cotton khaki. The moccasins can be made of the same, and beaded.

RED ROWAN. Dress of leaf-brown homespun made rather short, and quite plain, open at the neck, the sleeves coming to the elbow. A cloak of vivid scarlet, gathered in simple folds at neck, and falling to the ankles. Both dress and cloak may be made of cambric, using the unglazed side. Tan stockings. Moccasins. The latter may be made of cotton khaki, and beaded.

DANIEL BOONE: PATRIOT

CHARACTERS

DANIEL BOONE, a pioneer. ROGER KENTON, a lad ALLAN RIGDON, another BLAIZE PRITCHARD, a trapper EDWARD BRYAN JAMES COLBY BLACK FISH, an Indian Chief HAWK EYE, a young Indian Brave EAGLE'S FEATHER, another Other Pioneers, Trappers, Indians

(Note: The events comprised in this play cover a longer period of time than is suggested here.)

SCENE: An open woodland. Place, the Blue Lick Springs, Kentucky, 1778. Trees right, left, and background. A slightly worn path leads to background where the salt springs are supposed to be. Tall poles with skins on them. A large kettle swings over the fire in right foreground. Near it are other kettles, iron saucepans, and sacks for salt. In center background a hollow tree with swinging moss covering its opening. A fallen log near the kettles serves as a seat.

The play begins by young Allan Rigdon coming out of woods, left, with a few fagots which he feeds to the fire, bending over it, and looking in the kettle. James Colby comes by the half-worn path from background, carrying a bucket of water.

COLBY (calling). How comes the salt, Rigdon? If 'twere not that these licks give it in such abundance, 'twould try a lad's patience sorely. 'Tis like a girl's work--tending kettles! And hardly a man's work--carrying water from a spring. (Puts down pail of water.) 'Faith, my arms are stiff, and my fingers also! If an Indian sprang at me from a thicket I could not so much as cock my gun! What shall I do next? Carry more water? The rest are still drawing it--_more_ girl's work, if you'll leave me call it so! (As a slight sound is heard at left.) Heaven's mercy! What's that? (Seizes gun.) Is it Indians?

BOONE (quietly approaching from left). And if it were, would your work be only _girl's_ work, Colby? It shows you but a foolish lad to speak of it thus lightly. With all Boonesborough in need of salt, with our cattle and horses half-perishing for the want of it, with the way that lies to the licks a very wilderness road for danger, 'twould hardly be called girl's work to tend these kettles--brave as our frontier women are. 'Tis _men's_ work, Colby, although you be but lads who do it.

RIGDON. The wilderness makes men of lads right quickly; does it not, Master Boone?

BOONE (seated on log). Aye, that it does. If it were not for the stress of the times, and the scarcity of men to keep watch, you should be back in Boonesborough, and not here, my lads. But 'twas for your courage and skill that I chose you. How comes the salt, Rigdon?

RIGDON. Finely, sir, finely. And the hunting?

BOONE (shaking his head). Scarce enough to keep a fox alive. I must start forth again. There should be plenty of bison fat and deer meat for the days that are coming. (Enter Kenton with bucket of water. He puts it down, and salutes Boone.) Well, Kenton, what news from the springs?

KENTON. The same as ever, sir. Blaize Pritchard and Edward Bryan stand guard while the rest of us carry water. The camp is as you see it. There's not been a sign of an Indian since you left us yesternight.

BOONE. You do not ask what I've brought back with me, Kenton.

KENTON. I know, sir, that if there were game to be had you would have bagged it. But since we've come to the Blue Lick Springs the buffalo and deer seem to have gotten wind of us. There's not so much as a rabbit scampering across the grass. It seems as if nature herself were in league against us.

BOONE. Nonsense, lad. There'll be game enough soon, when I've foraged further. Such times as these were sent to us to see whether we be of iron or putty.

KENTON. All the same, sir, I'll be glad when the boiling is done and we can pack our salt, and start through the forest for home. Long as the trail is, I would sooner have it than----

BOONE (clutching rifle). Hark! The crack of a branch--in the forest. On the defense, lads. I'll investigate.

[Goes into woods at right.

KENTON (in a low voice, as the lads seize their rifles). If it should be those venomous Shawnees! Before we left Boonesborough 'twas said that they'd already passed the war-pipe through their villages. They have been still so long, 'tis time for an uprising. (Approaching footsteps are heard.) Who comes?

COLBY (on the alert). Just Boone himself.

RIGDON. What signs, sir?

BOONE. No signs at all, unless for the first time in their lives the Indians are shrewder than the Long Knives. There's not so much as a broken branch, or a newly fallen leaf. Now, lads, off to the spring with you. I'll tend this last kettle, and when 'tis boiled, I'll start on the trail again. There must be bison and deer for the followers of Daniel Boone. Lads, stay! If because we are unmolested you should sometimes think that tending the kettle is work for girls--remember that we and our guns are all that stand between the Indians and the fort at Boonesborough, where all the women and children are. Will you remember?

ALL (speaking vehemently). Aye, sir.

BOONE. And as I take the trail I will remember the lads who've lived on dry bread and the paring of bacon rinds, and who've tasted naught but parched buffalo meat in three weeks.

RIGDON. You've gone hungry yourself, sir.

BOONE. Well, lads, 'tis all in the day's luck. We'll not suffer for meat if I can shoot an elk or a bear. (Lads exeunt through trees in background, Boone watching them.) Brave lads they are, and true!

[He tends the kettle, facing audience. After a moment Indians stealthily appear in background.

EAGLE'S FEATHER (as two of the braves seize Boone). Long Knife, surrender!

[There is a brief struggle between Boone and the braves; but the former finds, that it is useless to resist.

HAWK EYE. Shawnees on warpath. Long have watched Boone and tried to trap him. Now have got him. Boone show trail to Boonesborough.

BOONE (to himself, in a tense whisper). Boonesborough?

BLACK FISH (majestically). What answer does Long Knife Boone make? If Long Knife joins tribe, Long Knife will be treated with honor. All at Boonesborough will be killed; but Boone's life will be spared if he joins tribe. What answer does Long Knife Boone make?

[Boone considers deeply for a moment. His gun has been taken from him; but he is so closely surrounded that his arms are left free. He considers deeply for another moment, arms crossed on breast, head bowed. Looks up for an instant. Gives a searching glance at the Indians. Considers again for a moment. Then raises his head.

BOONE. Long Knife says--yes!

[Holds out his hands, smiling.

ALL INDIANS (delighted at pantomime of acquiescence). Wah!

BLACK FISH (waving tomahawk in air). Long Knife's brothers--over by spring!

ALL INDIANS (in chorus). Kill! Kill!

BOONE. Wait! Black Fish try to kill Long Knife's brothers. Long Knife's brothers fight back. Kill maybe one brave. Maybe two braves. Maybe three braves. But--Boone speak to his white brothers. They surrender to Black Fish. No fighting. No braves killed. What does Black Fish answer?

BLACK FISH. Black Fish answers: Long Knife show great wisdom. Black Fish do as Long Knife says.

[Some of the Indians start in the direction of the spring.

HAWK EYE (grunting). Umph!

[Kenton is suddenly brought in by two braves who have captured him. As his eye falls on Boone his voice shrills with terror.

KENTON. Oh, they have caught you! They have--

[The rest of the pioneers begin to appear from background, closely guarded by the Indians.

COLBY (as all of Boone's little band are brought in as captives). What's this? Not Boone a traitor?

BOONE. Hush! (To the other white men.) No use to fight. We are surrounded. (To Black Fish.) Does Black Fish give me leave to speak to my comrades apart?

[Black Fish nods assent. Boone and his band withdraw to left. The Indians withdraw to right. Each side holds a conference. That of the Indians is in pantomime.

BOONE (to his band). No use to fight, lads. Put up your guns. (Indicates Indians.) Half a score more are in the woods behind us. If we surrender, we may gain some time. If we refuse, we're lost. They'll march at once on Boonesborough.

KENTON. Wilson's gone free, sir. He'll take Boonesborough the news of our capture.

BOONE (rapidly). Aye; but he cannot take them the news of what Black Fish means to do. No one in Boonesborough knows that the Indians are on the warpath. A massacre is planned. The fires are lit. The tomahawks are ready. We must gain time. 'Tis all that we can do. We must surrender. I'll break through when I can. (Loudly.) Think well, my brothers. Here is freedom offered you, if you surrender. What do you say?

PRITCHARD (loudly). I say that we surrender.

[Boone, turning, makes a gesture to the spot where their guns lie piled, then towards the Indians as one would say: "We give in."

BLACK FISH. My brothers, we, too, have had a council. Far in the North the British pay much gold for paleface prisoners.

PRITCHARD (involuntarily). Oh, Boone, we're sold!

BOONE (quickly). No! Saved! The British will take a ransom, and Boonesborough will pay it to the uttermost farthing. (In a low voice.) Come, strategy! Strategy! I will break through to-night.

PRITCHARD. Great Chief Black Fish, to you we have surrendered. With your braves we will take the trail to the British encampment.

BLACK FISH (grunting with pleasure). Umph! Much money for paleface prisoners. (To Hawk Eye). Give prisoners bison meat. Water. See they not die on road. No want to lose money they bring. Braves march now. Boone not go. Boone stay with us.

[While Black Fish has been speaking the braves and their prisoners line up for departure. Meantime, from the woods in background other Indians have joined the group. Those who have captured Boone describe the feat in dumbshow. The newly arrived Indians bear food, a blanket or so, a war-drum, pipes, etc.

BOONE (striving to speak gaily). A good journey, my lads. I shall be thinking of you.

EDWARD BRYAN (low: aside, full of commiseration). You will be here alone!

BOONE (hurriedly, seeing that Bryan's remark has been overheard by the Indians). With my kind brothers! (Quickly, seeing that Black Fish's back is turned.) March bravely, lads. Remember Boonesborough!

PRITCHARD (moved). Your hand, Boone.

BOONE (clasping Pritchard's hand). My comrade!

[They look at each other a long moment. Then the line, Indian-guarded, and led by Hawk Eye, marches out, left.

BLACK FISH Now we make a great feast. Celebrate.

[They all sit on ground. War-pipe is passed. Gourds with grape wine. Dried fish. Dried fruits. General hum of excitement and pleasure. Animated and colorful groups. Boone smokes the war-pipe when it is passed to him. Drinks and eats freely with the others. Through it all, now soft, now loud, sounds the drone of the war-drum. Now and again a young buck yells jubilantly, or ejaculates a shrill "_E-yah!_" of pleasure. They rise from feasting to dance in a war-circle about the drum, right. Boone does a few steps with them, and then retreats to left of stage. More dances. Speeches with short guttural words and grunts. Waving of tomahawks. Shrill cries. Another circle is formed about the war-drum. Attention drifts away from Boone. Finally, after a second dance about the war-drum Eagle's Feather gives a sudden cry of "_Boone! Boone gone!_" Intense excitement. Cries of rage. General search as Indians exeunt right and left. One or two lag behind and look in bushes. Eagle's Feather pulls back swinging moss from hollow tree and looks within. Then the baffled Indians dart off stage, right. A moment later Boone enters from left. Looks warily about him, right, left, and background. Then darts into hollow tree. A moment later the Indians, headed by Eagle's Feather, enter right, left, and background. They gesticulate with cries of "_Boonesborough!_" Some urge taking the way at left, others the way at right. Eagle's Feather is among the latter. The way at right is ultimately decided upon. With a final yell of "_Boonesborough!_" and great swinging of tomahawks, all the Indians exeunt right. The drone of the war-drum begins, and grows fainter and fainter as they go into the forest. The gourds and blankets and pipes they have collected and taken with them as supplies for the march.

BOONE (coming triumphantly out of his hollow tree). They have taken the wrong trail! I am free to warn my people! I can gain the fort ere the Indians reach it! Boonesborough is saved.

[Exit Boone, running left. The grassy space is left vacant, and the scene ends.

COSTUMES

DANIEL BOONE. Daniel Boone and his followers wear suits of buckskin made on Indian lines. (Cotton khaki imitates the tan color of the buckskin.) Long breeches, the buckskin tunic coming about to the knee. It is fringed. There is no adornment on the tunics such as Indians wear. The lads of the party wear buckskin breeches of knee-length, and tan strapping over tan-colored stockings. They should all wear moccasins, or imitation moccasins made of khaki, and embroidered in beads.

THE INDIANS. The Indians wear suits resembling those of Boone and his followers, save that they have painted insignia and bead and shell embroidery. Black Fish has a great black fish painted on his khaki costume. All wear moccasins. All have feathered head-dresses and war-paint. The war-paint of Black Fish is scarlet and black, and he wears an immense black head-dress of feathers that is longer and handsomer than those of any of the others. Eagle's Feather wears a scarlet head-band and one huge gray eagle's feather in it, stuck upright. For further description of Indian finery see description of braves in "Princess Pocahontas." The blankets and baskets can be the same in this play as in that one.

PROPERTIES. The hollow tree can be made of two halves of barrels fastened together, and stood upright by means of props put behind it. It should be painted dark brown inside and out, or covered with dark-brown burlap flecked with black and white for lichen. Green vines can be hung about it, and it should stand well in the background, resembling a rotting and blasted tree as much as possible.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN EPISODE

CHARACTERS

YOUNG BENJAMIN FRANKLIN AN OLD WOMAN

SCENE I

Boston Common on a Summer afternoon, 1720.

The Common is an open grassy space, wide to the sun and sky. There are trees right, left, and background. Their shadows fall like a wavering tracery across the grass.

At the beginning of the scene this grassy space is deserted. It is the far end of the Common, a place not much frequented by loiterers. The first person to cross it is young Benjamin Franklin, who comes slowly in from right. He wears knee-breeches, a loose white shirt, silver buckles on his square-toed shoes, and a three-cornered hat on his head. He is reading from a book which he holds in his right hand, while on his left arm hangs a basket of tallow candles. Slung across his left shoulder is a kite, its string trailing.

He walks slowly, pausing every now and then to turn a page. The old woman enters from right, and comes quickly towards Franklin. She is wonderfully keen-eyed and light of foot, and is clad in a green quilted petticoat, with a green bodice, a touch of white at neck, and a green double cape. A white cap is perched on her snow-white head. She also carries a small market-basket, and a gold-headed cane. Her stockings are scarlet, her low black shoes have gold buckles. She is, withal, arrestingly picturesque, and there hangs about her a slight air of mystery, that is well in accordance with her profession, which is that of soothsayer.

Franklin is so deep in his book that she soon catches up with him, passes him, looks back, and sees that he does not perceive her. Then she stands still and lets him pass her, still staring at him. Then she comes briskly up behind him, and taps him on the arm with her cane.

THE OLD WOMAN. Fare not so fast, young sir. If your book makes you so blind to customers, 'tis not many candles you'll be selling.

FRANKLIN (at first somewhat startled, then looking up quite calmly). And if I do not mind my books, 'tis naught but candles I'll be selling all my life.

THE OLD WOMAN. Well spoken, tallow-chandler's son. Whatever your calling, I see that your wits are not made of wax. Give me a shilling's worth o' candles, and tell me what good your toil is like to bring you.

FRANKLIN (putting down book, kite, and basket, and selecting candles). I have ambition to become a printer.

THE OLD WOMAN (paying him and putting candles in her basket). So!

FRANKLIN. And if I do not apply myself, how am I like to learn? There are no gains without pains, and heaven gives all things to Industry. [Footnote: From "Poor Richard's Almanac."]

THE OLD WOMAN (holding up her hands). To hear him! (Chuckling to herself.) Keep on! Keep on! You'll ne'er be sorry for it! Aha, Master Franklin, 'twill take no gazing in the crystal to see that the future of a wise and industrious lad is made of gold. What's that you're carrying as carefully as if 'twas your book?

FRANKLIN (dropping book and basket, and showing kite). My kite. To-day was a half-holiday, and I've been flying it on Beacon Hill till the wind hath made me sleepy.

THE OLD WOMAN (keenly). You've fastened a little key to it.

FRANKLIN (with a burst of candor). Sometimes I think I'll fly it in a thunderstorm and gather up the lightning.

THE OLD WOMAN (tapping the ground vigorously with her cane). Those are bold words, Master Benjamin Franklin. Are you not feared to speak them? (Looks half-fearfully over her left shoulder.) Folk might think you were in league with--with strange powers! (There is a touch of the eighteenth-century beldame in her as she speaks these words).

FRANKLIN. How is it that you know my name, and yet I do not remember you?

THE OLD WOMAN (mysteriously). Perhaps there are too many soothsayers passing, or perhaps you have not looked well about you. Aha, aha! (Nodding and blinking.) There are many things folk do not see.

FRANKLIN (shrewdly and bluntly). That's true. My father says that _all_ the witches were not hanged on Salem Hill.

THE OLD WOMAN(finger upraised). S-ssh! Never that word! Never that word, Master Franklin! Come, I am for crossing the Common, and for your good-will, and because you are a wise lad, I'll lend you my crystal.

[Gives it to him.

FRANKLIN (putting book in basket with candles, and turning crystal to the light). How it shines in the sun!

THE OLD WOMAN (with cane upraised and wand-like for a moment). Look in it. Look deep in it. 'Twill give you dreams, Master Franklin, all good, good dreams. Dreams o' the future, Master Franklin!

[Franklin stands still in background, looking at the crystal as the Old Woman goes on her way. The branches of the trees under which he stands cast wavering shadows about him. It is cool after the glare of the sun. He yawns, stretches, and throws himself at foot of tree.

FRANKLIN (musing aloud). Of all the strange old women! (Looks at crystal again.) A pretty toy, truly! All--shining--in--the--sun------ (Falls asleep.)

THE OLD WOMAN (stealing back for a moment out of background, and raising cane as before). Dream! Dream deep!

[Tosses over him half of her double cloak, then makes her exit into background, with finger on lip, and disappears from view. There is a pause of some length, during which dream music is played, a soft, swaying rhythm. Then comes the Dream.

SCENE II PEOPLE OF THE DREAM

DR. FRANKLIN, the statesman JOHN ADAMS MARIE ANTOINETTE, Queen of France THE DUCHESS OF BOURBON MADEMOISELLE DE PERNAN MADEMOISELLE DE TRESSAU Ladies in Waiting. Pages. Courtiers. Rose Minuet Dancers. Shepherdesses and Milkmaids from the Petit Trianon. Little Flower Girls. Rose Bearers.

The setting is the lawn of Versailles on a Summer afternoon, 1781.

There are trees at right, left, and background. The entrances of all taking part in the scene are made from middle background.

The dream music of the previous scene having ceased, a stately march is played off scene. Queen Marie Antoinette enters, her train held by four little pages in white satin. She is followed by Mlles. de Pernan and de Tressau, who wear white brocade with pale yellow roses. Following them comes a less formal group, ladies in waiting, who wear dark green and silver-flowered bodices and overskirts over still darker green quilted petticoats: amber costumes of the same, threaded with gold, and dark purple over white satin. The Queen, who is in white, with a long train of scarlet velvet, has the only touch of scarlet that is worn in the scene. The French courtiers are in flowered coats with buff, blue of a deep shade, and white and amber-brown predominating.

The Queen, having crossed the sward, stands at right, and the Mlles. de Pernan and de Tressau stand immediately behind her, and by them the pages. A little further back, in a stately, yet not too formal a semicircle, stands the court. Just as they are taking their places there comes from the background a sedan chair borne by four chairmen in black velvet, with powdered wigs. This chair is set down in center of sward. The Duchess of Bourbon alights: approaches the Queen, courtesies deeply and kisses her Majesty's hand. Then joins the group behind the Queen. The chair is carried to the back of the group during this ceremony.

Music off-scene plays "Hail Columbia" and Franklin and Adams appear from background, Adams following Franklin. Benjamin Franklin is in black, with unpowdered hair. His famous spectacles are on his nose. The Queen extends her hand, over which he bows. Adams, with three-cornered hat on breast, bows just behind him.

QUEEN. You honor France in honoring us by your presence, Dr. Franklin. Mr. Adams, we greet you, not only because you come from America, but because you are the friend of wisdom and sagacity.

FRANKLIN (bowing low: ditto Adams). Your Majesty does us too much honor!

QUEEN. The honor we do you to-day is to be gay, festive, joyous. We have delighted to plan a fete for your pleasure wherein you shall behold Versailles and Trianon, court ladies, milkmaids, shepherdesses! But, first, the verses!

[According to the custom of eighteenth-century France in honoring a philosopher, the Mlles. de Pernan and de Tressau face Franklin and the Queen, courtesy deeply, recite a verse, courtesy again, and return to their places.

MLLE. DE PERNAN. "We come to honor, one by one, Benjamin Franklin, Freedom's son, Who comes to us from oversea, Champion of light and liberty."

MLLE. DE TRESSAU. "Learned and just, benignant, wise, You draw the lightning from the skies: Printer and Statesman--here we see What man through his own wit may be!"

[Throughout the revels that follow the Queen and Benjamin Franklin stand at right, while the dancers enter from left background. As soon as one group has finished dancing, center, they move to the left, and stand in a line facing Franklin and the Queen. Thus color is added to color, till the whole has a rainbow effect.

The first group to enter is the pale-violet group, ladies-in-waiting, who wear pale-violet bodices and overdresses over white. They dance a gavotte, and retire to a line at left. The stage on which the dancing is done must afford ample space, so that there is no crowding.

The second group enters. Court ladies in pale-yellow bodices and looped overdresses over white. They dance a gavotte, and then stand at left of stage.

The third group enters. Young maids of the court, dressed as shepherdesses. Pale sea-foam-green bodices and overdresses over white. White crooks, with pale-green satin streamers fastened to them. They dance a minuet, and retire to left.

The fourth group enters. Young maids of the court dressed as milkmaids. Pale-blue bodices and looped-up overdresses over white. Each milkmaid carries a small white, wooden milking-pail. They dance a minuet, and retire to left.

The fifth group enters for the Rose Minuet. First come ten little girls walking two and two. They wear bodices and overdresses of the very palest pink, flowered with deep-pink roses. Their fichus and petticoats are white. Each couple carries between them a half-hoop of pink roses. When they come to a halt the rose hoops, held high, form a rose bower through which the rose-dancers approach. They are maids of the court, who wear rose-pink bodices and overdresses over white. Wreaths of tiny pink rosebuds on their powdered hair. With the little girls with rose hoops forming figures and groups in the center of the sward, the minuet dancers go through a minuet which should differ from the other minuets, its figures being somewhat more elaborate and complicated.

The final figure of this fete should be a huge minuet, with the rose-dancers in the center of the sward, the other dancers joining in. After a figure or two, the tempo of the music should change, and the dancers, headed by those who have done the rose minuet, should march off the field into the background. First the pink group, then the blue group, then the green, yellow, and violet groups. With the same march music still sounding, the Queen and Franklin, followed in stately fashion by the court, should leave the field, and thus end the scene.

COSTUMES

The costumes of the first scene have already been indicated in the text. That of the crystal-gazer can be made of cambric, with the glazed side turned inward. Her cap and kerchief should be of white lawn.

COSTUMES IN SCENE II

MARIE ANTOINETTE. White satin petticoat. Overdress and bodice of white silk brocaded with scarlet roses. White lace ruffles and fichu. Long train of scarlet velvet, lined in white satin. Hair dressed high and powdered. Gold crown. Shimmering necklace. If a costume as ornate as this is not procurable, let the young player wear a long white muslin dress that just touches below the ankle. A bodice and overdress of white cretonne flowered with red roses. White lawn fichu with ruffles. A long train of scarlet cambric with the glazed side turned outward to represent satin. This is lined in white cambric which should also be satiny-looking. The train is fastened at the shoulders, and borne by two pages. Crown and jewels of gold and silver paper. White slippers and stockings. Brilliant buckles.

FRANKLIN. Suit of plain black velvet. Vest of black satin. Stockings and low shoes of black. Three-cornered black hat which he holds under his arm. His hair falls to his collar, and is unpowdered. A pair of square spectacles on his nose.

ADAMS. Suit of plum-colored velvet, trimmed with gold lace. White satin waistcoat. White stock, and lace jabot, and sleeve-ruffles. Black shoes with gold buckles. Black stockings. White powdered wig worn in a cue.

With the other costumes, cretonne and cheesecloth can be substituted for silk and satin; but the color scheme that has been already described should be strictly adhered to. The Mlles. de Pernan and de Tressau should wear white dresses, with looped-up paniers of white cretonne flowered in yellow. The Duchess of Bourbon, a white dress with looped paniers of pale blue, flowered in pink. White fichu and ruffles. Very inexpensive yet effective costumes can be made for the dancers by having each girl wear a white dress that comes below the knee. Over this dress may be worn a deep girdle of cheesecloth of a solid color. Then looped-up paniers of cheesecloth of the same color at each side. A white fichu of cheesecloth or lawn may be worn with this costume, and all the girls taking part in the dances should have their hair powdered, and worn in a pompadour fashion. White shoes and stockings for all the dancers. Older girls taking part should wear their dresses ankle-length. If a more satiny look than cheesecloth gives is wished, let the overdresses be of light-colored cambric with the glazed side turned outward. Cheesecloth is the softest, most pliable material, and the most easily managed.

The dancers who carry the rose hoops should wear pale-pink cretonne flowered in deeper pink. The rose hoops may be made of ordinary hoops of a good size cut in half, covered with green cheesecloth, and then decorated with pink paper roses, put on so thickly that the green is almost hidden.

The pages and sedan chair-bearers wear black velvet, with black waistcoats and white neck-pieces and ruffles. Black stockings and low black shoes. Hair powdered and worn in a cue. Black suits, basted back to give the effect of an eighteenth-century coat, white neckcloth and ruffles of lawn will make good substitutes for the more ornate costume. For the white wigs, a tight-fitting skull-cap of white muslin. Basted to this white cotton batting, shaped to fit the head, and having a cue in the back tied with black velvet ribbon. For the sedan chair, if a real sedan chair cannot be had, have a chair fastened to a stout platform of wood. Handles for the bearers to hold should be fastened to the chair. A boxed-in canopy of heavy white cardboard covers this, the cardboard fastened to a light framework. Over the cardboard should be pasted pale-yellow wallpaper, or white-flowered wallpaper. The inside of the chair should be covered in flowered cretonne. The handles should be gilded.

MUSIC (for band, orchestra, or piano):

For the Dream Music: Minuet, by L. Boccherini Gavotte: Gavotte Favorite de Marie Antoinette (1774), by Charles Neustedt. Minuet: Minuet from Don Juan, by Mozart.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN EPISODE LINCOLN CABIN SCENE

CHARACTERS

ABRAHAM LINCOLN NANCY LINCOLN JOHN LINCOLN AMY ROBY TOM BUSH FRANCOIS, a young French-Canadian ANDREW SMITH, a fiddler RED PLUME, the chieftain of a small Indian tribe DARK CLOUD, an Indian brave SKY-OF-DAWN, an Indian maiden Other young people, friends of Lincoln, Indian braves, Indian maidens

SCENE: A clearing beyond the Lincoln cabin, Little Creek, Indiana, 1823.

When the boys and girls who are to take part in the outdoor merrymaking begin to appear, it is seen that the boys wear moccasins, and buckskin is bound in strappings to their knees. They wear, for the most part, dark knee-breeches. Their shirts are dark-blue, dark-red, and dark-plum flannel--any dark flannel shirt will do. These shirts are open at the neck, and a gay handkerchief is twisted about them, tied with loose ends. Francois betrays his French ancestry by a red sash tied at the side.

The girls wear short dark calico, homespun, or woollen dresses of solid color, dark-blue, dark-brown, dark-gray. These dresses should have square necks, which show the throat. The dresses themselves are not much seen, because each girl wears an old-fashioned cloak, gathered at the neck, and falling to the edge of the dress. The cloaks are gay in color--forest-green, red, bright blue; in shape something like the well-known "Shaker" cloaks. Some of the cloaks have hoods that lend an air of quaintness. Several of the girls wear bead chains, evidently the work of their own fingers.

The scene opens with the entrance of Nancy and John Lincoln, and Tom Bush. The rest follow from background. It is evident from their attire and smiling faces that this is a gala occasion. Tom Bush carries a kettle to right, near a fallen log. Then he and the other boys kindle a fire, erect a rude tripod, and swing the kettle not far from where the log lies. Much business of blowing, lighting, etc. A battered tin coffee-pot is produced, ready for making the coffee.

TOM BUSH (calling back over his shoulder, as the preparations begin). Come, Nancy, we've found a fine place to swing the kettle.

AMY ROBY (at right, stooping over basket). And here's a splendid spot for unpacking the baskets!

[Nancy Lincoln runs first to the fire, to see how the work is going forward, and then returns to Amy, who is busily unpacking baskets, with the assistance of the other girls. Nancy takes some of the contents of the baskets, and then hurries to Tom Bush with them.

NANCY LINCOLN. Here are some potatoes and corn-dodgers to put on the ashes.

FRANCOIS (to Andrew Smith). It is mos' time that you had better be tuning up your fiddle, Andrew!

AMY ROBY (to Nancy, who stands center, shielding her eyes, and looking towards background). Isn't Abe coming?

NANCY LINCOLN (shaking her head). No, Abe isn't even in sight yet. But he'll surely be here as soon as he has finished splitting those rails.

ONE OF THE LITTLE GIRLS (joyfully). Andrew is beginning to play!

[Andrew Smith's fiddle gives out the first notes of a reel. Those who are bending at their various occupations begin to nod and trip. In an instant everything is dropped, and the young people are all for merriment. They begin, center of sward, a grand right and left. Andrew Smith stands at right fiddling with the greatest possible gusto.

As the dance ends, Andrew Smith points with his fiddle-bow to a figure seen approaching from the background, a tall, lank, kindly-faced boy, dressed like the others but with an ax over his shoulder.

ALL (with a loud cry--intense delight--at the very top of their lungs). Lincoln! Abe Lincoln!

[They run to meet him. He comes down center with an admiring group on each side.

NANCY LINCOLN (looking up at Abe). It wasn't really a holiday till you came.

[Lincoln smiles at her, and then turns to Tom Bush.

LINCOLN (as he and Nancy and Tom Bush form a group at fire: the rest up stage, left). What have you been doing, Tom?

TOM BUSH. Fixing the fire, and now I'm going to see about getting the right sort of wood for the floor of a squirrel-cage. I caught a squirrel yesterday, and I------Oh, I forgot! You wouldn't be interested in that. You said yesterday that if you were me you would let the squirrel go.

LINCOLN (looking straight before him to something far beyond the narrow world of Little Creek). I don't like to see things in cages: I like to see 'em _free_. I believe in freedom for everything living!

AMY ROBY (breaking in upon the group). Come, Tom, there's another dance beginning!

[Lincoln sits on log, near fire, and begins to roast some ears of corn which the boys have stacked near by. The young people beckon Lincoln. He shakes his head, watches them, smiling. A Virginia Reel is started at left. Lincoln, who is still seated on log, and those who are dancing the reel, are so absorbed that they are oblivious of a group of Indians stalking down from right. The Indians draw near to Lincoln, and stand motionless, watching the dance, their beads and headgear glittering in the sun, their blankets a brilliant blotch of color against the green. When the dance ends, Lincoln and his companions are aware of the Indians. But the Indians, although their desire is to trade the skins and furs they are carrying, cross to left, feigning entire indifference, and seat themselves in a semicircle. Red Plume in passing Lincoln has given him a grave "How!" to which Lincoln has returned "How!" with equal gravity. The settlers stand in a group at right, a little towards the background, watching the Indians. The Indians continue to sit in a grave circle. An old Indian smokes. Two of the Indian maidens appear to chatter. Finally Dark Cloud rises with a bundle of skins in his hand. The young settlers come down to right foreground. Dark Cloud puts the bundle of skins on the ground. Asks them, by gesture: "What will they give?"

Tom Bush offers a penknife for one of the skins. Dark Cloud stands with arms haughtily folded. Tom Bush adds a gay handkerchief to the penknife. Dark Cloud shakes his head, and stalks back to his circle. Sits with his brother Indians. Much conferring and shaking of heads. Equal pantomime on part of settlers. Lincoln is keenly watching the scene, but still apart from it all. Suddenly Red Plume rises and, with slow dignity, approaches Lincoln.

RED PLUME. How!

LINCOLN. How!

RED PLUME (with indicatory pantomime). Red Plume know Lincoln. Lincoln heap square. Lincoln heap just. Honest Abe decide.

[Lincoln rises, and comes to center foreground. Dark Cloud rises from his circle and brings skins. He stands at Lincoln's left. The other Indians rise slowly, cross, and stand behind Dark Cloud. At Lincoln's right stands Tom Bush, and back of Tom Bush the youthful settlers. They have gathered together things they wish to trade, such as a fine blanket that was brought with the picnic blankets, hatchets, etc. Tom Bush is the first to start the trading. He adds to the handkerchief and penknife which he showed before a small hatchet. Both Dark Cloud and Tom Bush, after they have laid their possessions on the grass, look at Lincoln. Lincoln nods. The trade is made. Through all that follows Lincoln stands center, as a court of appeal. No trades are consummated until he has given the signal of an affirmative nod.

The Indians offer furs of various descriptions.

Francois trades off his red sash to Red Plume.

Amy Roby trades her chain of beads for an Indian basket.

Red Plume signifies interest in Andrew Smith's fiddle. He takes it up. At this the Indian maidens laugh amongst themselves. Red Plume tries the fiddle. It makes a very hideous squeak. At this two of the Indian maidens laugh outright. But Red Plume continues to be enamored of the instrument. He offers to exchange more and more skins for the fiddle, but Andrew Smith shakes his head. So no trade is made. Red Plume reluctantly relinquishes the fiddle. A backwoods lad trades off a blanket for some of Red Plume's furs, and the chieftain appears mollified. Now that the trading is over both settlers and Indians appear to be pleased with their possessions. Through all that has transpired, Lincoln has been the central figure, appealed to again and again. The Indians solemnly exeunt with their new possessions towards background.

NANCY LINCOLN (turning to Abe). You don't know how proud I am to hear them call you "Honest Abe." I shouldn't be surprised if someday you did something wonderful and splendid!

LINCOLN (smiling at her enthusiasm). "Someday's" a long way off, Nancy!

NANCY LINCOLN (with conviction). Well, I believe that even if a boy _is_ poor, and was born in a cabin, if he's as honest and hard-working as you are, Abe, he's sure to come out finely. Now, let's go home!

[Lincoln, ax on shoulder, exits towards middle background, Nancy and John and all the rest following, with the fiddler playing gaily.

The merrymaking is over, the grassy stage is left vacant, and the scene ends.

COSTUMES

The costumes for the young settlers have already been indicated in the episode itself. Francois, the young French-Canadian, wears a cotton khaki suit, cut on Indian lines. That is, the breeches of the suit are fringed, and he wears moccasins. He wears a tan shirt, open at the neck, and a scarlet sash belt.

The costumes for the Indians are of cotton khaki, cut on simple Indian lines. (See description of Indian costumes of "Princess Pocahontas.") Gay painting at neck. Beads. Shells. Wampum. The Indian maidens and some of the braves have blankets. They should be striped in gay colors--red and green, orange and blue--the stripes very wide. A few blankets of solid color. Long pipes for the Indians to smoke. Headdresses of brown and gray feathers. Dark Cloud wears a black feather head-dress. Red Plume wears a headdress of brilliant scarlet feathers.

LIBERTY DANCE

This dance is for a pageant given on a very large scale. It is formed of commingled groups of the young people of all nations, and is symbolic of the Old World coming to the New. The peasant costumes of Germany, Russia, Italy, Ireland, Scotland, France and Sweden should be worn, and the dances should be the folk dances of the various nations, with their appropriate music.

PAGEANT DIRECTIONS

Care should be taken in choosing the pageant site. The actual stage should be a level sward, with close-clipped grass that will make it as easy as possible for the dancers. It is ideal if the background and sides of this stage can be picturesquely wooded, and present a vista through which the pageant players can be seen approaching. It will be well if the pageant stage itself has a tree or so. This stage should vary in size according to the number of people in the cast. A small cast requires a smaller and more intimate stage. In this way scenes in which a crowd of supernumeraries are needed will give the effect of having more people than are actually there. On the other hand, a large stage is needed for big effects, where a great number of people are used. Too small a stage makes a great number of players seem a huddled mass, and through this pantomimic effects are lost.

The pageant players should, if possible, have the sun at the side. It is very difficult to play facing a strong light. Choice of the time of day in which the pageant is given has much to do with its effectiveness. Late afternoon (from four o'clock on) is by far the best time for outdoor drama. The earlier hours are somewhat garish,--the light too high, the contrasts too sharp and unvaried. But from four o'clock on the light mellows, the shadows become long and sweeping, the outdoor effects grow more and more beautiful. It is as if the first hint of sunset were the signal for ringing down a magic curtain on a scene where nature herself was pageant mistress. This is true of all outdoor plays as well as pageants.

Those who direct the pageant should see to it that the youthful players make a finished exit; that is, that one scene and set of players disappear entirely from view before another set of players begin to come on. Off stage the players should be in groups, arranged in the order in which they are to appear, so that as one group leaves the stage, the next is ready to appear, and confusion is avoided. No talk should be allowed off stage. On a still Summer day sounds carry: a murmur is confusing to the players.

The players should not be dependent on words alone for their cues. Very often a word may fail to carry out of doors; but a gesture can always be seen. Therefore, _gesture cues_ can be used at many of the climaxes. These cues can be quite simple and natural, and while perfectly understandable to the players themselves, need not be at all obvious to the audience. The players and their director can decide upon the cues, and will find them of immense help. Thus, by an upraised arm, or by tossing back a braid of her hair, Pocahontas can signal to Powhatan that her talk with John Smith is finished. Washington shielding his eyes with his hand can be a signal to Carey that it is time for him to enter, etc., etc. Of course, in many cases the ending or beginning of a dance, or the entrance of some principal character will be cue enough in itself.

In the final procession (if the players choose to have a procession), The Spirit of Patriotism should march first, and behind her should follow the other players in the order of their scenes. This preserves the order of the epochs also, and makes an excellent color scheme--the tawny yellows and reds of the Indian garb, the dark Puritan costumes, the pinks and blues of the Colonial period as against the more somber colors of the settler's homespun, etc., etc. In order to give such a procession its full effect it should not seem too stiff and premeditated. Let some of the players march two and two, and then have some important character walking alone. Sometimes it may be possible to have a group of three, or a tall young player with two smaller and younger players, following her. Or again a line of Indians single file. The properties should be carried in the procession to add to its effectiveness. The canoe, as if it were still a matter of portage; the sedan chair of the Duchess of Bourbon; the Indian war-drum used in "Princess Pocahontas," etc., etc. Needless to say these properties are carried in the group and epoch in which they belong. If the pageant is given on a very large scale which includes the Liberty Dance at the end, all those who took part in the dance should form the end of the procession. There should be a space between them and the last of the settlers, as there is between the past and the present. In this space should walk a figure symbolizing Hope and Joy--a young girl in draperies of the palest green, and hair bound with a Greek fillet. In her hands she carries a great laurel wreath.

When the Pageant of Patriots had its first production in Prospect Park, Brooklyn, the youthful players marched around the great oval outside which the audience sat, and having circled it once, marched off the scene. If, however, the future producers of this pageant wish to reverse this order, it can easily be done, by having the march end in the final tableau. It is merely a matter of choice.

In the Final Tableau The Spirit of Patriotism should stand on the stage in the middle foreground, center, and grouped about her should be the young folk of the various centuries. This scene should be well mapped out and rehearsed beforehand, so that the ensemble will be splendidly significant and glowing in its effect, and there should be no clashes in the color scheme. The notes of "America" should be sung with tremendous fervor and power.

In many cases the pageant will, of necessity, have to be rehearsed indoors. Outdoor places to rehearse in are not always obtainable, nor weather always propitious; moreover, with young people the out-of-doors has too many distractions. Armories or halls are excellent places to rehearse in; so are gymnasiums. The episodes should be rehearsed separately. Rehearsing in a small room is fatal. It gives the youthful performers a tendency to huddle, from which they seldom recover. Their motions are cramped, and they lose all sweep and freedom. There should be understudies for all the principal parts, and there must be at least one full-dress rehearsal. The ages of the young people taking part in the pageant should be from eight to eighteen. The principal parts will, of course, be intrusted to the older boys and girls where the occasion demands. John Smith, Powhatan, and others need a certain amount of height and dignity.

The number of young people taking part in The Pageant of Patriotism will be determined by circumstances. From two hundred to five hundred young people may take part in it.