Christmas Candles: Plays for Boys and Girls

TIME: _One week before Christmas._

SCENE: _Inside the garden. At back, the wall. Against it (R.), the Doll bed. Left, small trees with toys. Down Center and across Front, garden paths._ PRINCE _and_ PETER _in Monks' robes and sandals._ PRINCE _sitting idly on a wheelbarrow._ PETER _working with rake in the Doll bed. Tools, watering can, etc., scattered about._

Prince. [_crossly_] Well, I don't see how you can _stand_ this place, Peter. I've had more than enough--I'm just sick of it, I am.

PETER [_still working_], I'm sorry, your Highness.

Prince. Yes, that's what you always say. I wish you would stop that everlasting work and come here and tell me why you're sorry? Why in the world do you keep on working and working? I believe you like it. Come here, I tell you!

[PETER _comes forward and leans on rake to talk with him._

Peter. Well, your Highness?

Prince. That's right, Peter. Now you just tell me what you like about it so awfully much.

Peter. Why, your Highness, you know I'm a poor boy and I've always had to work. This is such pretty work--it's just like play. And I never really had enough to eat until I came here to live. I tell you it's horrid to be hungry! Then the good Fathers are so kind, and I love the Christmas carols and the chimes--why, I think it's a beautiful place, your Highness. Don't you like to watch the toys grow?

Prince. Oh, they grow so slow. I expected to have a bushelful of new toys every month, and not one have I had yet. And these stingy old Monks say that I can only have my usual Christmas share, anyway, and I mayn't pick them myself, either. I never saw such a stupid place to stay, in all my life. I want to have my velvet tunic on and go home to the palace and ride on my white pony with the silver tail, and hear them all tell me how charming I am. [_His words become nearly a wail, and he rubs his fists in his eyes._]

Peter. [_patting him sympathetically on the shoulder_] Never mind, your Highness. It's pretty nearly Christmas now, and in a few days the toys will be ready to pick. Come along, and I'll help you to water those tin soldiers over there--you didn't get that done, did you?

Prince. [_jumps up angrily and stamps his foot_] No, and I won't do it, either. As for you, Peter, you're _tame_. If you had a grain of spirit you'd hate it just as much as I do. There! [_Runs off angrily (L.)._ PETER _looks after him, shakes his head, gathers tools together neatly, takes up watering-can, and exit (R.). Enter_ PRINCE.]

Prince. [_looking after_ PETER] There he goes now to water those horrid soldiers. I'd like to melt them all down to lumps of lead--I would! And Peter--he's enough to drive me crazy. I won't stay here a bit longer, so I won't. I'll get that ladder out of the tool house and get over the wall and go home. [_Starts off._] But I'll take some Christmas presents with me, I know! [_Exit (L.). Enter (R.)_ SEBASTIAN, FELIX, ANSELM, _and_ GREGORY.]

Anselm. Well, Brethren, we have every cause to rejoice in the fine flourishing condition of our garden. Peter has kept the beds wonderfully clear of weeds.

Gregory. Yes, and I think I may say that our garden has never been so fine as this year. It was a happy day for us when we found Peter.

Felix. Indeed it was. How neatly he keeps the garden paths raked.

Anselm. And what a good disposition the child has!

Felix. Always ready and willing----

Sebastian. [_who has stood at one side with folded arms and dejected countenance_] Peter. Peter. Peter. But what of the Prince?

Anselm. Alas, yes. You are right, Brother Sebastian. What of the Prince?

Gregory. Oh, I'm not utterly hopeless of the Prince, my Brethren.

Sebastian. Brother Gregory is always over-hopeful.

Felix. It is my solemn opinion, Brethren, that the Prince is the very worst boy in the Kingdom.

Anselm. Oh, no, Brother Felix!

Sebastian. I say he is! Think of the first day, when we gave him Noah's ark seed to sow, and he went into a passion because it wasn't gold-watch seed! [_The Monks nod regretfully._] We set him a penance to kneel on dried pease in the chapel all afternoon. And hasn't it been so every other day in the year since?

Anselm. [_soothingly_] Yes, Brother Sebastian, I fear it has. [_Cheerfully._] But, then, you know, this has come hardest on you--hasn't it, my Brethren? For, you see, the Prince exhausted our list of penances so soon and you have had to remain in solitary confinement in your cell in order that you might invent new penances for him. Hasn't it been too hard for poor Brother Sebastian, Brethren?

Gregory. Yes, yes, poor fellow, he looks quite thin and worn.

Felix. And to think how we were deceived in that boy! How his people praised him!

Sebastian. [_gloomily_] I fear his Royal relatives are sadly deceived in him.

Gregory. But let us think of pleasanter subjects, for I have hopes that the softening influences of the Christmas season will do great things for our misguided young friend. Let us give our minds to the contemplation of the Doll bed. How lovely the little creatures are!

Felix. And how they will delight the hearts of the little girls.

Anselm. Why, why, why, what is this? Here is a vacant place!

Gregory. Oh, yes, Brother, that doll didn't come up. I noticed the place long ago.

Felix. And so did I, but I neglected to speak of it.

Gregory. [_to_ ANSELM, _who continues to shake his head over the missing doll_] Come, come, Brother, let us be glad that such cases are rare. Now, my Brethren, we will go on with our inspection. [_They move towards exit, then, looking back, discover_ SEBASTIAN _still in gloomy revery._ FELIX _goes back, puts an arm across his shoulder, and guides him gently after the others._]

Gregory. Poor fellow! Poor fellow! [_Exeunt slowly (R.). Enter (L.)_ ROSALIA.]

Rosalia. [_looking about with delight_] Oh, the lovely dollies. [_Examines them._] And there comes Peter! [_Enter_ PETER _(R.)._ ROSALIA _goes to meet him._] Peter! Peter!

Peter. [_amazed_] Oh, you darling! How in the world did you get in here?

Rosalia. I just crept in behind one of the Monks. I saw him going along the street, and I ran after him, and when he opened the big gates I just crept in. Here I am, Peter!

Peter. [_worried_] Well, I don't see what I am going to do with you, now you _are_ here. I can't let you out again, and I don't know whatever the Monks would say!

Rosalia. Oh, I know! I'll stay out here in the garden. I'll sleep in one of those beautiful dolly-cradles over there, and you can bring me something to eat.

Peter. But the Monks come out very often to look over the garden, and they'll be sure to find you.

Rosalia. No, I'll hide. Oh, Peter, see that place where there isn't any dolly?

Peter. Yes, that doll didn't come up.

Rosalia. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll just stand here in her place and nobody can tell the difference. [_Steps into place among dolls._]

Peter. Well, I suppose you can do that. [_Looks at her and shakes his head anxiously._] Of course, I'm glad as glad can be to see you, but I'm afraid the Monks wouldn't like it. Now I must go and put away my tools. Be very quiet, sister. [_Exit_ PETER _(L.), coming back to see if_ ROSALIA _is safe. Waves his hand to her. Exit. A pause in which_ ROSALIA _looks about her, feels the curls of the doll next her, etc., etc. Enter_ PRINCE _(L.), carrying small ladder twined with green, and a huge basket of toys. Goes to wall, places ladder, tries its firmness, and begins to climb, finding much difficulty with basket._ ROSALIA _watches furtively with much interest and excitement._]

Prince. [_at top of wall_] Now, if I can just get down on the other side. [_Works cautiously but ineffectually to get the basket over. Looks over wall joyfully._] Oh, I see some of my father's people riding by! I'll get them to help. [_Waves hand frantically._] My lord! My lord! Hither! [_Voices beyond wall: "The Prince!" "The Prince!" "His Royal Highness!" "Make haste, your Highness! have a care!" At which the_ PRINCE _contrives to fall over the wall, dropping the basket inside._]

Prince. [_without_] Oh, I'm not hurt! Let us get away! Hasten, my lords, hasten! [_Voices die away in the distance._]

Rosalia. [_horrified_] What a naughty boy! [_Enter_ PETER _(L.)._] Oh, Peter, the Prince has run away.

Peter. [_hurriedly examining ladder, etc._] Run away? [_Mounts ladder and looks over wall._] He surely has! There he goes on the horse with that gentleman! [_Watching, thoughtfully._] I was afraid he would try that! But this ladder [_getting down_] has always been kept locked up. Oh, too bad,--most of the toys are broken. [_Gathers them up and takes ladder._] Keep very still, sister. I must put these away and tell the Abbot and the other Fathers what has happened. [_Exit (L.). Enter_ ANSELMUS _(R.), walking up and down the path, hands behind him in deep thought. Takes turn near_ ROSALIA, _notices her, starts, bends down to look closer, puts on spectacles, and gazes with astonishment._]

Anselm. Why, what is this! Hoc credam! I thought that wax doll didn't come up. Can my eyes deceive me? Non verum est! There is a doll here--and what a doll! On crutches and in poor homely gear! [_Puts out a hand to touch her._]

Rosalia. [_starting_] Oh! [ANSELM _starts so violently that his wreath falls off in the path._]

Anselm. [_gasps, trying to recover himself_] It is a miracle! The little girl is alive! Parva puella viva est. I must summon the Abbot and the Brethren at once. We will pick her and pay her the honors she is entitled to. [_Picks up wreath, settles it distractedly upon his head, and hurries to path (R.), where he motions to someone without._]

Anselm. [_with excitement_] Hilarion! Brother Hilarion! Hither!

[_Enter_ HILARION _in hot haste._

Hilarion. [_panting_] Did you call, Brother Anselmus?

Anselm. Summon the holy Father Abbot at once--say to him that it is a matter of importance. [_Exit_ HILARION, _running._ ANSELMUS _returns to look at_ ROSALIA _again, muttering._] A matter of importance--a matter of importance.

[_Enter_ ABBOT _and all Monks._

Abbot. At the wax doll bed, did you say, Hilarion? Ah, yes, there is my son Anselmus.

Anselm. [_coming forward_] Most holy Abbot, behold a miracle. Vide miraculum! Thou wilt remember that there was one wax doll planted which did not come up. Behold! in its place I have found this doll on crutches, which is--alive.

MONKS. Alive! Strange! Wonderful!

Abbot. Alive, did you say, Anselmus! Let me see her. [ABBOT _bends over to see_ ROSALIA. _Monks crowd around to see._]

Abbot. [_rising_] Verum est! It is verily a miracle.

Hilarion. Rather a lame miracle.

Abbot. [_reprovingly_] My son, I fear the work in which you have been engaged, to wit, taking charge of the funny picture-books and the monkeys and jumping jacks, has rather thrown your mind off its level of sobriety, and caused in you a tendency to make frivolous remarks, unbecoming a Monk.

Ambrose. I am the leech of the Convent. Let me look at the miracle, most holy Abbot.

[_All make way for_ AMBROSE.

Abbot. Gladly, my son Ambrose.

Ambrose. [_examining_ ROSALIA'S _ankle_] I think I can cure this with my herbs and simples, if your reverence wills that I should try.

Abbot. [_doubtfully_] But I don't know. I never heard of curing a miracle.

Ambrose. If it is not lawful, my humble power will not suffice to cure it.

Abbot. True. We will take her, then, and thou shalt exercise thy healing art upon her. [_Takes_ ROSALIA _up in his arms, and leads the way, a Monk picking up the crutches._] We will go on with our Christmas devotions, for which we should now feel all the more zeal.

[_Exit Monks (R.), singing. Enter_ PETER, _darting to place where_ ROSALIA _stood, then to look after the Monks, hands clasped in anxiety._

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