ACT I

TIME: _Evening of December 18th._

SCENE: _Kitchen in_ MISTRESS GOODSPEEDE'S _cottage, a simple and bare little room. Open fireplace[22] [R.], with exit beside it supposed to lead to loft. Back R., door; L., window, opening upon a desolate winter scene. L., door, leading to another chamber. Down L., a spinning-wheel. Furniture, a few plain chairs and stools, and a settle. By the window a table where little_ PRUDENCE _and_ PATIENCE _are washing the supper dishes._ PATIENCE _stands upon a stool in order to reach the dishpan more easily_, PRUDENCE _wipes the dishes and lays them on the table._

[Footnote 22: See note on Fireplace, p. 313.]

PATIENCE [_severely_]. Prudence, if thee's not very careful, I know thee'll drop the platter!

PRUDENCE. Oh, no! Patience, I'm being very careful. I wouldn't let it drop for anything. It's Mother's very best platter, too.

PATIENCE. And if thee broke it, who knows if dear Mother could ever get a new one? She hath told me many a time she brought it with her from Old England, and she saith the like cannot be found here--even in Boston town.

PRUDENCE [_gives it an admiring look, then lays it cautiously on the table_]. I'm sure it's the most beautiful platter that ever was seen. Are there many more dishes, Patience, dear?

PATIENCE [_in a motherly tone_]. No. Poor little maid, I fear me thou'rt very weary. Here--just these cups, and I'll help thee. [_Gets down from stool and helps to wipe one or two cups._] Where are the boys, I wonder? You and I, Prudence, can never, never reach to put the dishes away on the shelf.

PRUDENCE. No, but brother Roger or Myles can do it. Mother says they grow like tall weeds.

PATIENCE. And the parson says they are brave striplings. [_Sighs._] I would I were tall and strong. Then I should never be afraid of----

PRUDENCE [_looks fearfully over her shoulder_]. Afraid of _what_, Patience?

PATIENCE [_putting her arm around_ PRUDENCE]. Oh, never mind, Prudence, dear, not afraid of, of--_anything_.

PRUDENCE [_pushes her back and shakes her finger_], I know, Patience, thee was going to say--Indians! Oh, Patience, doesn't thee wish Mother'd come home? [_Lays her head on_ PATIENCE'S _shoulder._ MYLES _and_ NATHAN _pass the window._]

PATIENCE. Never mind, sister, here come Myles and Nathan. [_Enter the boys._] Myles, has thee seen Roger?

NATHAN. Roger has gone to fetch our Mother home.

PRUDENCE [_going to table_]. Oh, Myles, won't thee please put the dishes up for us? Patience and I are far too little. [NATHAN _and_ PRUDENCE _carry dishes one at a time to_ MYLES, _who puts them on mantel._ PATIENCE _wrings out her dishcloth._]

MYLES. Where is Mother, Patience?

PATIENCE. Mistress Submit Wells hath a fever, and after supper Mother went to see if there was aught she could do to help.

NATHAN [_looking out of the window_]. I see Mother and Roger coming up the hill now.

PATIENCE. Quick, Nathan! Empty the pan for us! [PATIENCE _opens the door for_ NATHAN, _who carries pan out._ PATIENCE _hangs up dishcloth in haste._] Mother must find everything neat when she comes.

[_Re-enter_ NATHAN, _putting pan in cupboard or under table._

MYLES [_mockingly_]. Thou art a great housewife, Patience.

PRUDENCE [_joyfully_]. Here they are!

[_Enter_ MOTHER _and_ ROGER. PRUDENCE, PATIENCE, _and_ NATHAN _gather about her while she takes off her cape and follow her to the door (L.) when she puts it away._ ROGER, _hanging up his hat, goes to fire._

PATIENCE. How did thee find Mistress Wells, Mother?

MOTHER. Much better to-night, daughter.

PRUDENCE [_catching at her skirts_]. Thou'lt not go back, then, Mother?

MOTHER. No, little Prudence, not to-night.

ROGER. It's fearsome cold out. Do stir the fire, Myles. [_Warms his hands, while_ MYLES _stirs fire._]

NATHAN. Then come sit down with us by the fire, Mother. Thee surely won't work any more to-night?

MOTHER. I am willing, Nathan, but I must be knitting. With three great lads who wear out so many stockings, I am kept more than busy, even if the good parson did not exhort us never to be idle. [_Exit and re-enter with knitting._]

PATIENCE [_drawing up her_ MOTHER'S _chair and arranging stools_]. Here, Mother, here's thy big chair. Prudence and I will get our stools. Oh, Roger, do get out of the way! Make haste! Thee's such a giant thee'll block the firelight out entirely.

[ROGER _gets up and stands before the fire, while the_ MOTHER _sits down_, PRUDENCE _beside her with a corncob doll and_ PATIENCE _at her knee, also knitting._ MYLES _sits with his back against the chimney and_ NATHAN _lies at full length before the fire._

ROGER [_good-humoredly_]. What a pity thee didn't name that child _Im_patience, Mother. It would become her so much better.

MOTHER [_while_ PATIENCE _bends her face low over her knitting_]. Does thee think it would make it any easier for her to be good, Roger?

ROGER. Well, I'm glad thou gavest us good sober English names. I'm sure 'twould never help me to be good if I had been named Hate-Evil, like Elder Hopkins' son. Think of it--Hate-Evil Hopkins!

MYLES. And if Father had called me Love-the-Truth or Have-Courage, instead of naming me after our fine Captain Standish, I know I never would have tried half so hard to be brave and truthful.

MOTHER. _That_ was what Father cared for, Myles, whatever thy name might have been.

ROGER. One of us is fitly named, at any rate, Mother, and that is thyself, Mistress Delight Goodspeede! [_Bows._]

PATIENCE. Yes, Mother _is_ our Delight.

MYLES. And everybody's else, too.

MOTHER [_laughing_]. Take care, children, you will make me vain, and then the parson will preach a whole sermon about vanity, and call out in the midst of it, "Delight Goodspeede, stand forth!"

ROGER. How terrible! [_All laugh._]

NATHAN. He calleth vanity a light and shallow thing, but I'll warrant me he would turn his hour-glass at the least four times while he discoursed upon it.

MYLES. More terrible still!

[_All laugh again. A knock at the door._ ROGER _goes to answer it_, NATHAN _sits up with interest, and_ PRUDENCE, _who has been walking her corncob doll up and down, rushes to her_ MOTHER'S _chair._

ROGER [_his hand on the lock_]. Who knocks?

INDIAN [_without_]. Eaglefeather!

ROGER [_turning to his_ MOTHER]. Mother, 'tis the Indian boy you helped when he was wounded last winter. May I let him in?

MOTHER. He hath always been friendly. Open for him, Roger.

ROGER [_opening the door_]. Come in, Eaglefeather! Thou'rt right welcome.

[_Enter_ INDIAN, _bow in hand._ MYLES _and_ NATHAN _go to him._

MOTHER. What does he want, Roger? Mayhap he is hungry.

ROGER [_pointing to his mouth_]. Hungry, Eaglefeather? Want something to eat? Bread?

INDIAN [_shakes his head_]. No hungry. Braves go hunt. [_Draws his bow._] Kill much, much, much deer. [_Spreads out his arms._] No hungry; cold. [_Folds his arms and shivers._] Can warm? [_Boys bring him to fire._]

MOTHER. Yes, indeed; make room for him, boys.

MYLES. He can stay as long as he likes, mayn't he, Mother?

MOTHER [_smiles and nods at the boy_]. Yes, we know he is our friend. We trust him.

NATHAN. Doesn't thee remember how he taught us to shoot, and make baskets for thee and the girls?

INDIAN. Hmph! Eaglefeather teach young brave much more some day. Many, many new thing.

NATHAN. Oh, that is good news. What things, Eaglefeather?

INDIAN. Eaglefeather not tell. Eaglefeather show, to-morrow. Tired now. March long, long time.

MOTHER. Yes, poor lad. Let him rest now, boys.

[INDIAN _lies before fire_, ROGER _and_ MYLES _as before_, NATHAN _behind_ MOTHER'S _chair._

ROGER. Thou'rt always the one to think of making folks comfortable, Mother. What would Mistress Wells say if she saw Eaglefeather here now?

MYLES. He never would be beside _her_ kitchen fire.

NATHAN. Not if he was frozen stiff.

MOTHER. For shame, boys; Mistress Wells hath been very kind to us.

PATIENCE. I think she is a very sour-visaged woman, and I can't see why thee wants to help her.

[MOTHER _gazes thoughtfully into the fire._

ROGER [_watching her_]. I know what Mother is thinking of!

MOTHER. Tell us, then, Roger, if thou be a wizard.

ROGER. Mother is thinking that in Old England this is Yule-tide----

MOTHER. Verily, I believe thou _art_ a wizard, Roger, for thou'st guessed aright!

MYLES _and_ NATHAN. Tell us about the Yule-tide, Mother.

PRUDENCE. Is _this_ the Christmas day, Mother?

ROGER. No, Prudence. It's the twenty-fifth that is Christmas. Isn't it, Mother?

MYLES. Just a week from to-day?

MOTHER. Yes, children, just a week from to-day it will be Christmas in Old England.

PATIENCE. But why did Mistress Wells make thee think of Christmas?

MOTHER. 'Twas what Myles said about Mistress Wells and Eaglefeather here. 'Twas because Christmas in my father's home in Old England was the time of all others when people did kind and friendly deeds, when poor folks came to the houses of rich men without fear of being driven away, and our homes were open to all who needed food and warmth.

PRUDENCE [_wonderingly_]. Why, then, Mother, I think it must have been like heaven!

NATHAN. Mother, doesn't thee sometimes wish we were all back in England once more?

MOTHER [_earnestly_]. Never wish that, my son.

MYLES. Not after all the bitter cold winters and hardships here, Mother?

MOTHER. 'Tis the very hardships we have endured that will build up a new and better England for us here, Myles---- But the Old Christmas was a happy time.

[EAGLEFEATHER, _who has been sleeping, sits up, and from this point listens intently._

ROGER. Won't thee tell us more about it, then?

MOTHER. I've told thee many times already, Roger, how the great Yule-log was brought in and lighted on Christmas Eve--such a monster log that it would burn until Twelfth Night. We always saved a bit of it, then, to light the next year's log. The old folks said that was for luck. All the young folks went out into the forest to gather the Christmas greens, holly, mistletoe, and long festoons of ground pine for wreaths. Ah, it was merry work, and the great hall in my father's house was a brave sight when we had decked it in the green. And on Christmas day we had our Christmas bough covered with shining candles and bright gifts for each other.

PRUDENCE. How beautiful, Mother!

MOTHER. And we were awakened at dawning by the poor children of the village singing their joyous carols beneath our windows.

MYLES. How I wish I could hear them!

ROGER. The singing in our meeting on the Sabbath isn't very joyful, is it, Myles?

MYLES. Beshrew me if 'tis. This is the way the elders and deacons stand and sing. [MYLES _and_ ROGER _stand side by side, eyes closed and hands folded before them, droning an old psalm tune._][23]

[Footnote 23: As the boys would hardly have been permitted to finish their song, the mother may leave the room before they begin, coming back to reprove them sharply when it is over.]

Tune: "Windsor."

My days consume away like Smoak Mine anguish is so great. My bones are not unlike a hearth Parched and dry with heat.

Such is my grief I little else Can do but sigh and groan. So wasted is my flesh I'm left Nothing but skin and bone.

Like th' Owl and Pelican that dwell In desarts out of sight I sadly do bemoan myself In solitude delight.

The Ashes I rowl in when I eat Are tasted with my bread And with my drink are mixed the tears I plentifully shed.

MOTHER [_rising_]. Roger and Myles, silence! I will not have this wicked mocking of our good elders. Haven't you heard the parson tell the story of how the bears ate the children who mocked Elisha?

ROGER. Forgive us, Mother, we meant no disrespect.

MYLES. But, verily, the sound of the singing maketh me almost as sad as the sight of the bears could.

NATHAN. But, Mother, why do the good fathers never allow us to have a Christmas?

ROGER. There can be no wrong in the things thou'st told us. Peace and good will and neighborliness.

MOTHER. But that was not all, Roger. With the feasting and merriment came much that the good Puritan Fathers did well to abolish.

PRUDENCE [_stands at_ MOTHER'S _knee_]. But, Mother, isn't a birthday always a happy day? [MOTHER _nods and smiles._] Then I should think the Lord Christ's birthday would be the very happiest day of all, and the good parson would like to have us sing and be joyful and glad.

MOTHER [_kisses her_]. Thou'rt too little to understand it yet, my Prudence. [_Rises._] Come, we have sat too long with our talking. If our candles are not soon out, the tithing-man will be tapping at our door and reproving us. [_Leads the two little girls and_ NATHAN _to door (L.)_]. Come, children. Myles, see that the fire is safe. Roger, is the door fast? [MYLES _and_ ROGER _attend to the fire and the door._]

INDIAN. Must Eaglefeather go now?

MOTHER. Does thee think, lad, that savage though thou art, I would drive thee out into the bitter night? No, there is too much Yule-tide in our hearts for that! I have no bed for thee, but lay thee down by the fire and welcome. [_Begins to wind the clock._] Boys, bring in some straw for a bed---- Stay a moment. Straw will not do. A chance spark from the fire might light it, and burn the house above our heads. There is an old mat in the shed without. See if you can find it.

[_Exeunt all three boys_; MOTHER _takes down candles from mantel and slowly extinguishes one; holds the other in her hand, absently snuffing it. Stands facing audience._

MOTHER [_musingly_]. I told little Prudence she was too young to understand, yet with my years, am I quite sure that I understand it myself? No, the good Fathers can never crush and kill the loving Christmas spirit. [_Enter boys, quietly arranging mat, on which_ INDIAN _stretches himself._ ROGER _goes to fasten door._] Why should little children _not_ be joyous and glad on the holy day? Why should not I _help_ them to celebrate it? [_Hesitates, then firmly and decidedly._] I believe--I _will_ do it! Boys, come here. [_Boys come to her side._ REUBEN TURNER _and_ GERSHOM PORTER _pass window, glance in curiously, then bend close, listening to all that is said._] Roger, what would thee and Myles say to a Christmas bough of our very own?

MYLES. Oh, Mother!

ROGER. Does thee mean truly, Mother?

MOTHER. Of a truth I do mean it, Roger.

ROGER. But, Mother, they will persecute thee----

MYLES. And drive us all into the wilderness----

ROGER. And with Father away on his ship, who could take care of thee?

MOTHER. I have come into one wilderness before, Myles. I am not afraid.

ROGER. But how can we do it, Mother?

MOTHER. I will go up to Boston town to-morrow--I can easily walk there and back again before 'tis dusk--and buy what little things I may for gifts. I hear that a ship has but now come into port.

MYLES. Doesn't thee wish it was Father's vessel, Roger?

ROGER. _Then_ wouldn't we have a Christmas!

MOTHER. 'Twill be many a weary month before Father's ship returns, I fear. But whatever this bark may be, she hath surely brought some small trinkets that will do for us. I'll find them and bring them home with me. Then on the day before Christmas thou and Myles must go into the woods and cut a small evergreen, as perfect a one as you can find. At dark on Christmas Eve you can bring it home, and when the children are in bed we will dress it. Then, early on Christmas dawn, before the neighbors are stirring, we will light it and wake the little ones.

ROGER. But, Mother, they will surely find us out!

MYLES. That Reuben Turner is always spying upon us. And so is Gershom Porter. [_Boys at window dodge below the sill._]

ROGER. And, Mother, they think thou art only half a Puritan now, because thou canst sometimes smile and art not always stern and sour like the rest.

MYLES. And they say thou art vain and frivolous because thou keep'st brazen fire-dogs and candlesticks instead of iron ones.

ROGER. And dost not dress thy daughters in solemn black.

MOTHER [_laughing_]. Do they say so? What a list of sins! [_Seriously._] With thee and Myles to help me I am not afraid. We will have our Christmas bough--no, not a bough, but a whole _tree_--if we needs must light it at midnight and cover the window with blankets! Now get quickly to bed in the loft. 'Tis shocking late!

[_All turn to go, boys, R._, MOTHER _to door (L.)._

MYLES [_running after her_]. Mother, Mother! won't thee teach us some Christmas carols, some _real_ joyful ones--so I can forget about those bears?

MOTHER. Yes, yes, Myles. Now go quickly. This shall be the first Christmas in New England.

CURTAIN