“I saw an entertainment that was something of that sort once,” said Adelaide. “But it was just a frame with old-fashioned pictures, like daguerrotypes. There wasn’t any Samantha, or any talking. I should think this would be lots better. But would it last a whole evening, and make the Wampoag people think they’d had their money’s worth?”
“I think so,” said Louise. “And anyway, if it wasn’t so very long we could amuse the visitors by showing them over the camp, and telling them all about our customs and habits. Maybe we could do a folk-dance for them afterwards.”
“Oh, yes, of course we could!” said Edith, whose specialty it was. “We could give them an Indian dance as easy as anything, and that Russian one I learned before I came. I can teach it to eight of us.”
“I know how to dance the minuet,” suggested Helen. “How many had it in that Washington’s Birthday thing Miss Green’s class had last year?”
Five had, it seemed. As a minuet only needs ten performers it was very simple to polish that up. And all of them knew Indian dances already. So a committee was appointed to get up the costumes. The Indian dresses were there already. For the Russian dance Edith thought head-dresses of paper muslin would do and aprons of colored scrim, over white skirts and turned-under, slipped-under-the-skirt middy blouses. For the minuet—well, there was cheese-cloth in red and yellow that Marie had had on her canoe; everyone could powder her hair and contrive a ’kerchief. The pannier draperies could be pinned into place, and broad bodices of Winona’s black paper muslin from the canoe-trimming could be cut and pinned into place with very little trouble. Helen and Edith and Adelaide were told off to see about the costuming; Edith, as she had to train the others in dancing, had nothing but supervision to do. Helen and Adelaide did what little actual work was needed.
“The main thing this entertainment needs seems to be pins,” said Helen the third day after they had decided to have it. It was a Thursday, and they planned the affair for the next Monday night. “We’re nearly out of them.”
So eight papers of pins were bought, not to speak of a good deal of white paper muslin. The girls were assigned their different characters in the Album, and each left to her own cleverness in getting up the costume. About midway in the preparations it suddenly dawned on the girls, who had gotten all the Samantha books from the Wampoag library, and had their families send them on the ones they owned, that boys were needed.
So a committee consisting of all the sisters was sent up the lake to borrow Boy Scouts. It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, for boys seem to dislike “dressing up” as much as girls like it; but Mr. Gedney was Camp Karonya’s friend, and they went back with all the boys they needed promised them—if they would look after the costumes and not expect the Scouts to rehearse.
Louise was appointed a Committee of Tickets, with Elizabeth to help her. Louise was a born ticket-seller. She loved it. She and Elizabeth put in most of their waking hours exchanging bits of ecru cardboard with small red things on them (meant for Camp Fires) for thirty-five cents. And they did very well. They got permission of all the drug-stores and many other stores, to put up posters, which were camp-made, also, of course. So by the time the fateful night arrived quite a goodly crowd was ferried over to Camp Karonya by the Scouts’ canoes.