“There,” said Sir Marmaduke, “behold the Forest of Sherwood! There aren’t so many trees, but each of them is a giant.”
Rosalind flung herself down near the oak. “Oh, Master Ben,” she panted, “fan me with your hat.”
And while Ben gallantly flapped his hat close to the red-cheeked lady, the others came bounding into the glade, like so many children just let out from school.
In a few minutes Fitzhugh, a paper in his hand, was calling out directions. Ben, observing everything, saw a couple of men crossing the lawn with what looked like a big camera. He turned to Rosalind. “I know what it is,” he whispered. “You’re moving-picture people doing a play.”
“Good for you,” she answered. She nodded toward Fitzhugh. “He wrote the plot, and we’ve been dressing up and doing it every day this week.”
The play began, and went on for an hour or so, with frequent interruptions. Some scenes were done over and over again before Fitzhugh was satisfied with them. He found a part for Ben, and instructed him carefully how to act before the camera. And whenever the company got tired the cameramen turned off their machine, and the actors lounged on the greensward while somebody sang or did a fancy dance.
It was great sport, and Ben was surprised when, glancing toward the west, he saw that the sun had set behind the trees.
“I must be going,” he said to Fitzhugh. “I’ve had a splendid time.”
Fitzhugh waved his hand at the cameramen. “That’s enough for to-day. We always end with a woodland dance, Ben, and then, back to the house for dinner.”
“I can’t stay to dinner,” began Ben; but before he could say more Rosalind and another girl had each caught a hand of his and the whole company had spread out in a ring. Rosalind started to sing, and all the others took up the song. There followed a dance, in which Ben did his share, and then the crowd formed into a line, each with his hands on the shoulders of the one in front, and led by Fitzhugh they wound across the wide lawn and back to the Gables.