(Father Christmas receives with a gracious air this gift and those that follow, handing them afterward to Jack Goose, who puts them into a large box or basket previously provided for the purpose.)
Jack Horner: I'm little Jack Horner who sat in a corner, eating a Christmas pie. I've brought you one just like it, Father Christmas. This pie is full of plums, and I haven't put in my thumb to pull out one! (Goes back to place after handing pie.)
Miss Muffet: I'm little Miss Muffet, sir. I sat on a tuffet, eating some curds and whey; but there came a big spider, and I was frightened away. Do you like curds and whey, Father Christmas? I hope so, for here are some in a bowl. (Hands gift, and returns to place.)
Peter Pumpkin Eater: Here come I, Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater. But I've saved a nice pumpkin for you, Father Christmas, and here it is. (Returns to place.)
Curly Locks: Just little Curly Locks who sits on a cushion and sews a fine seam, and feeds upon strawberries, sugar, and cream! Here's some of my sewing, Father Christmas. (Presents needlework, and returns to place.)
Little Boy Blue (blowing several blasts on his horn as he comes forward): Here's Little Boy Blue! I blow my horn when sheep's in the meadow and cow's in the corn. I've brought you my very best horn for a present, Father Christmas. It's a good one, I can tell you! (Blows again, and hands to Father Christmas, who smilingly tries the horn before handing on to Jack.)
Contrary Mary: "Mary, Mary, quite contrary," they call me, Father Christmas. I'm not contrary at all. Don't you believe it. Only I don't like to do just the same as other folks. That's the reason I'm not going to give you one of my silver bells or my pretty shells. I'll keep them myself for the present. Perhaps when it's Fourth of July, or some other time when nobody else is thinking about giving you anything, you'll hear from Contrary Mary. (Flounces herself away to place.)
Mother Goose: Fie, fie, my child! Give your presents to Father Christmas as you should. This contrariness grows upon you apace, and must be checked at once. (Mary obeys Mother Goose reluctantly, pouting and muttering to herself.)
Little Tommy Tucker: I am only little Tommy Tucker who sings for his supper. All I can give you is a song, Father Christmas.
| TOMMY TUCKER'S SONG. (Air: "Ben Bolt.") Oh, don't you remember when children were old, And money grew up on the trees, How we lived upon nothing but cake and ice-cream. And had none but our own selves to please? We went to bed late every night of our lives, And we played every day all day long; And we never did sums, and could spell anyhow, And nobody said it was wrong! Oh, don't you remember the naughty child grew, The good one was good all in vain, Till dear Father Christmas and Mother Goose, too, To children their duty made plain? So now we can cipher and spell with a will, And at nine we are snug in our beds, With good Father Christmas in all of our dreams, And Mother Goose songs in our heads! |