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.