Before the echo of the cheer had died in the distance Nathalie cried, “Oh, girls, the first signal!” Immediately these little patriotic Daughters of that which every one holds dear fell into line, and with flags upheld fastened their eyes on a small platform that had been erected in the center of the lawn draped with the national colors, where the Goddess of Liberty had just appeared. Holding up a green branch in her hand she began to walk agitatedly up and down the stage, pausing abruptly every moment or so to peer to the right or left, as if watching for some one.
Suddenly she halted, and with the dramatic gestures of Lillie Bell—for it was she—cried in mournful tone, “‘Is life so dear, or peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!’”
As the tragic intonation of her voice ceased, the band—composed, by the way, of a number of Scouts—burst forth with that old melody, “The Wearing of the Green.” This was another signal, and the girls waiting under the arch began to march slowly towards the stage, while the Goddess in feigned mystification moved quickly from side to side with her hand held to her ear, as if trying to ascertain whence came this martial tune.
But on came the Daughters of Liberty with flashes of white and red, and with banners of many designs and devices. They presented such a brilliant showing that the audience seated in rows on the circling mounds broke into loud applause, which burst into enthusiastic cheers of greeting, as in the bright glare of the sunlight they perceived Old Glory floating far above the heads of the banner bearers as they proudly marched across the green.
When the Goddess perceived this procession of fair damsels she stood apparently in a maze for a moment, and then slowly retreated backward until she stood on the scarlet draped dais with its throne. As the thirteen maids of freedom filed slowly on the platform, forming a half circle before the Goddess, the band struck into that old-time air, “The Liberty Tree,” and a second later every Daughter had chimed in and was singing:
“In a chariot of light from the regions of day
The Goddess of Liberty came;
Ten thousand celestials directed the way,
And hither conducted the dame.
A fair budding branch from the gardens above,
Where millions and millions agree
She brought in her hand as a pledge of her love,
And the plant she named Liberty Tree.”
CHAPTER XVIII—THE PRINCESS MAKES TWO MORE FRIENDS
“And the plant she named Liberty Tree,” sang Nita blithely up in the window of the sun parlor, where she sat with her mother and her old Scotch nurse, Ellen, watching the brilliant scene being enacted down on the lawn.
As the last verse ended—and there were four—Helen stepped before the Goddess, and after saluting told in a few words how the brave pioneers had brought to this land a tiny spark which had flamed into the sacred fire of Liberty. As time wore on, trampled by the sons of Tyranny, it was in danger of being stamped out, when the daughters of these pioneers fled to its aid in their great fight for the right, and by their bravery and heroic self-denial had revived the sacred fire. The ensigns now floating before her were the signals of their success in making this land, “The Land of the Free and Home of the Brave!”
An expression of regret flitted across Nita’s face as she realized that she could not hear the words Helen was speaking, but in a moment, remembering, she cried, “But I have them, Mamma, for Nathalie not only taught me the words of the songs, but wrote down for me the speeches of the girls. Ah, Helen is telling the Goddess how the Pilgrims came to this land and planted the Liberty Tree. Of course they did not really plant it, you know, only in their hearts, for they were determined to have liberty of conscience, speech, and action.