Out in front were the mothers, the big sisters, with, here and there, an occasional father of the children who were taking part. This was the audience. Of course this audience didn't pay anything, but Bunny, Sue, and the others who were getting up the play, hoped a large throng would come Christmas afternoon, when the real play would be given.
I must not tell you, here, how the rehearsal went, for it was so like the play that if I set down all that took place I wouldn't have anything left to tell you about the main performance. All I will say is that after the meadow scene came the one in the barnyard.
"Now if the Peter rooster will crow right this will be a good scene," said Mr. Treadwell.
Well, the scene was all right—at least at first. Bunny and Sue did their parts well, and so did the other children. The people sitting in front of the footlights—which glowed as brightly as they would in the real performance—said the show was going on finely. And Peter crowed just at the right time, too, without any one telling him to.
"That's great!" said Mr. Treadwell. "I think he can be in the play after all, George. It helps out the barnyard scene."
George felt quite proud of his bantam rooster, and Bunny and Sue were glad the feathered actor was in their show. But alas! Toward the end of the barnyard scene, when Lucile was singing a sad little song, Peter began to crow. He crowed and he crowed and he crowed, until Lucile could hardly be heard, and everybody laughed instead of sitting quietly.
"I'll go and hold his wings," offered George. But even that didn't quiet Peter. He kept on crowing louder than ever.
"I know what I'll do," said Bunny Brown. "I'll put Peter in his basket and carry him down to the cellar. That'll be dark, and he'll think it's night and he'll stop crowing."
"That will be just the thing!" said Mr. Treadwell.
So as Bunny Brown didn't have anything to do just then in the barnyard scene, he put Peter in the basket and carried the bantam rooster downstairs.