Down the Chimney

BY
SHEPHERD KNAPP
1921 THE HEIDELBERG PRESS
TO THOSE WHO FIRST ACTED IN THIS PLAY TO THOSE WHO WITH SO MUCH SKILL AND PATIENCE TRAINED THE PARTICIPANTS AND TO THE FRIENDLY AUDIENCES OF BOYS AND GIRLS WHO ENCOURAGE US BY THEIR APPLAUSE IT IS DEDICATED
This play is intended, not only for acting, but also for reading. It is so arranged that boys and girls can read it to themselves, just as they would read any other story. Even the stage directions and the descriptions of scenery are presented as a part of the narrative. At the same time, by the use of different styles of type, the speeches of the characters are clearly distinguished from the rest of the text, an arrangement which will be found convenient when parts are being memorized for acting.
The play has been acted more than once, and by different groups of people; sometimes on a stage equipped with footlights, curtain, and scenery; sometimes with barely any of these aids. Practical suggestions as to costumes, scenery, and some simple scenic effects will be found at the end of the play.
What sort of a Christmas play do the boys and girls like, and in what sort do we like to see them take part? It should be a play, surely, in which the dialogue is simple and natural, not stilted and artificial; one that seems like a bit of real life, and yet has plenty of fancy and imagination in it; one that suggests and helps to perpetuate some of the happy and wholesome customs of Christmas; above all, one that is pervaded by the Christmas spirit. I hope that this play does not entirely fail to meet these requirements.
Worcester, Mass.
SHEPHERD KNAPP.
Now the curtain opens, and you see the Roof of a House, just as Mother Goose promised. Keep your eyes open to see what will happen next, for here comes JACK FROST, who is dressed all in white. He walks with a quick and nimble step, and this is what he says :
Would you believe from the look of things, that to-morrow is Christmas? There is not a flake of snow anywhere. This roof is as clear as it is in summer. These pine trees, whose boughs hang over the roof, are all green. The chimney has not even an icicle on it. I hear people saying that we have no old-fashioned winters any more. Even old Mother Cary said to me the other day, Jack Frost, said she, when are you going to give them a real snow-storm? But I told her not to be impatient: I would attend to it all in good time. And when I do begin, it doesn't take me long to get up a fine old storm, I can tell you. Now he walks up to the Chimney, and knocks on the side of it . Say, old fellow. He waits a moment; then knocks again . Wake up there. He waits a moment; then knocks again . Wake up, I say.