shores,” and a rousing chorus of “Luff, boys, luff,” which made the
room ring; after which Ned performed a funny Chinese dance, and
hopped about like a large frog in a pagoda hat. As this was the only
public exhibition ever held at Plumfield, a few exercises in
lightning-arithmetic, spelling, and reading were given. Jack quite
amazed the public by his rapid calculations on the blackboard.
Tommy won in the spelling match, and Demi read a little French
fable so well that Uncle Teddy was charmed.
“Where are the other children?” asked every one as the curtain fell,
and none of the little ones appeared.
“Oh, that is the surprise. It’s so lovely, I pity you because you don’t
know it,” said Demi, who had gone to get his mother’s kiss, and
stayed by her to explain the mystery when it should be revealed.
Goldilocks had been carried off by Aunt Jo, to the great
amazement of her papa, who quite outdid Mr. Bhaer in acting
wonder, suspense, and wild impatience to know “what was going
to happen.”
At last, after much rustling, hammering, and very audible
directions from the stage manager, the curtain rose to soft music,
and Bess was discovered sitting on a stool beside a brown paper
fire-place. A dearer little Cinderella was never seen; for the gray
gown was very ragged, the tiny shoes all worn, the face so pretty
under the bright hair, and the attitude so dejected, it brought tears,
as well as smiles, to the fond eyes looking at the baby actress. She
sat quite still, till a voice whispered, “Now!” then she sighed a
funny little sigh, and said, “Oh I wish I tood go to the ball!” so
naturally, that her father clapped frantically, and her mother called
out, “Little darling!” These highly improper expressions of feeling
caused Cinderella to forget herself, and shake her head at them,
saying, reprovingly, “You mustn’t ‘peak to me.”
Silence instantly prevailed, and three taps were heard on the wall.
Cinderella looked alarmed, but before she could remember to say,
“What is dat?” the back of the brown paper fire-place opened like a
door, and, with some difficulty, the fairy godmother got herself
and her pointed hat through. It was Nan, in a red cloak, a cap, and
a wand, which she waved as she said decidedly,
“You shall go to the ball, my dear.”
“Now you must pull and show my pretty dress,” returned
Cinderella, tugging at her brown gown.
“No, no; you must say, ‘How can I go in my rags?’ ” said the
godmother in her own voice.
“Oh yes, so I mus’;” and the Princess said it, quite undisturbed by
her forgetfulness.
“I change your rags into a splendid dress, because you are good,”
said the godmother in her stage tones; and deliberately
unbuttoning the brown pinafore, she displayed a gorgeous sight.
The little Princess really was pretty enough to turn the heads of
any number of small princes, for her mamma had dressed her like
a tiny court lady, in a rosy silk train with satin under-skirt, and bits
of bouquets here and there, quite lovely to behold. The godmother
put a crown, with pink and white feathers drooping from it, on her
head, and gave her a pair of silver paper slippers, which she put
on, and then stood up, lifting her skirts to show them to the
audience, saying, with pride, “My dlass ones, ain’t they pitty?”
She was so charmed with them, that she was with difficulty
recalled to her part, and made to say
“But I have no toach, Dodmother.”
“Behold it!” and Nan waved her wand with such a flourish, that
she nearly knocked off the crown of the Princess.
Then appeared the grand triumph of the piece. First, a rope was
seen to flap on the floor, to tighten with a twitch as Emil’s voice
was heard to say, “Heave, ahoy!” and Silas’s gruff one to reply,
“Stiddy, now, stiddy!” A shout of laughter followed, for four large
gray rats appeared, rather shaky as to their legs, and queer as to
their tails, but quite fine about the head, where black beads shone
in the most lifelike manner. They drew, or were intended to appear