I jumped up to see what they would do with the pretty sparkling chests they were toting. These might be three more presents to put on the tree for somebody. No. The kings didn't even look at the Christmas tree.
They lined up in a straight row in front of the sleeping baby. Then the one who wore the purple robe nodded to the one in yellow. He, in turn, cut his eyes around toward the one wearing red. All together, the three bowed themselves down to the floor and lifted up the three golden chests.
I noticed that the big king men all had on regular high-top shoes just like Papa's. I looked up at their faces.
"Mama! They ain't no kings! That's them bad Bailey—"
"Hush!" Mama clamped her hand across my lips and pulled me down into her lap. "Tonight, hon, they're kings, the Orient Kings. You listen to Captain Jones."
I had forgotten all about him. He was standing up there in front of Aunt Vic and the lamp, still reading, his white beard quivering.
…they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh.
Captain Jones stopped. He closed the Bible. Still, nobody moved or said a word.
Then Aunt Vic gave a quick motion with her hand. The curtains went together, and such noisy scrambling and talking broke out back on the stage that both Aunt Vic and Mister Shepherd had to hurry behind the curtains to quiet the school children.
"Now is it time for our presents, Mama?"