Please see the [Transcriber’s Notes] at the end of this text.

GOOD TIMES WITH THE JUNIORS

Good Times
With The Juniors

By
LILIAN M. HEATH

United Society of Christian Endeavor
Boston and Chicago

Copyright, 1904,
By GEORGE B. GRAFF

Preface

“Good times” may be either work or play. But work and play—who shall define them truly?

Our block houses, toy engines, and dolls once seemed intensely real and important to us. They are not so now. In the same way, as we grow into the still larger consciousness, into the “life more abundant,” much that we now regard as of grave moment will take on a new aspect, and we shall see that it was only play. But play is blessed, and necessary to the very growth that discards it.

A dear enthusiast in certain lines of work, who is himself growing, I am sure, once publicly expressed the belief that too close (!) an adherence to the Christian Endeavor pledge results in a kind of “paperdolatry” tending toward idleness and pauperism. Dear, dear! Can this be true?

A look around the social and business world of to-day ought to settle the question. We take the look, and breathe more freely. Endeavorers here, Endeavorers there, in places of honor and responsibility—what could our good friend have been thinking about? We must be permitted to smile, and think that on consideration he will smile, too. In fact, the smile cure is the best one for this and all other kinds of pessimism.

Yet we are serious, too. In God’s great kindergarten, where we are all scholars, learning through our play-work how to live, who shall say which plays are most—or least—important?

One thing is certain. He who said, “Of such is the kingdom of heaven,” was speaking of those whose only conscious motive was play—natural, graceful, happy, loving life-expression. The growth resulting was involuntary. With the growth came new impulses, new activities, and new growth. It is the plan, in God’s kindergarten. Brother, if we would grow, let us not be afraid of play!

To those whose loving ministry among the Juniors finds frequent occasion for new plans, this little companion volume to “Eighty Pleasant Evenings” is offered by one who has found both joy and growth in preparing it. The proportion of the articles original with the compiler is larger than in any of her previous collections; but ideas from other sources have been welcomed and utilized whenever they could be made to fit the Juniors’ needs.

Credit for specially contributed articles is due to Mr. Vincent Van Marter Beede, Miss Imogen A. Storey, Miss Mattie Marie Gamble, Miss Ida M. Parmelee, and Miss Alice Chadwick. The aim has been to make each evening or afternoon as complete as possible in itself. The games described are therefore included in the socials and parties, but in addition to the general table of contents a separate index of games alone is given, thus helping those who may frequently wish to try new combinations.

With a smile and a prayer the writer sends forth this beloved piece of her own life-expression, knowing that it will reach just the right hands.

Yours in Christian Endeavor,
Lilian M. Heath.

Contents

Good Times With the Juniors.

Santa Claus Drill.
By Imogen A. Storey.

What would “good times” amount to in any well-regulated Junior society if they did not begin and end with the Christmas holidays? We begin, then, with a particularly jolly little drill for Christmas; and, as the girls so often have these matters all their own way, we will try for a change letting the boys be foremost this time. They will enjoy the fun of playing Santa. The Sunday-school primary class, too, must be drawn upon.—L. M. H.

An equal number of tiny boys and girls are to be used for the first part of the drill. They should be dressed in their nightclothes, and each little one should carry a pillow under his or her arm, and a stocking hung across the shoulder.

The stage must be decorated with holly, mistletoe, and other Christmas greens. A large fireplace should occupy the centre rear, shown in [Diagram B]. A decorated motto, “A Merry Christmas” may be placed above the mantel. The fireplace can easily be constructed of brick-colored fireproof paper, which can be purchased at any hardware store for a trifle, and with a piece of chalk from the blackboard the bricks can be imitated.

On each side, as shown in [Diagram A], should stand a small Christmas tree trimmed up in the conventional way, with the exception of candles, which it is better to omit unless great precaution is used to prevent an accident. On each tree the lower limbs should be supplied with hooks corresponding with a buttonhole in each stocking, which will enable the little ones to hang their stockings quickly and securely on the trees.

The floor should be laid off for the first part as shown in [Diagram A]. A different color used in laying off the diagrams for the two parts will be found a great help, especially to the smaller children.

Diagram A.

The children enter from the rear, girls from the right and boys from the left, or vice versa, carrying pillows under their outside arms and stockings across the same shoulder, and follow lines R and L in [A]. When they reach the dots shown on these lines, all extend their inside arms diagonally up at the side, and grasp the partner’s hand.

When they reach the diagonal lines, they let go hands, and turn on these lines, as shown by arrows, turning again on the front line. When the leaders reach lines R and L, a signal from the piano is given to halt. In halting, each should keep a distance of fifteen inches from the one in front, the same as in marching. This distance should be kept throughout the drill. Another signal is now given to face front, all turning in the direction of the inside arm. They now recite with gestures:

“We are going to hang up our stockings” (holding stockings out toward the audience)

“On the Christmas tree” (turning the body just a little and pointing to the trees),

“And we know old Santa will fill them,

“For we’ve been good” (girls, pointing to themselves)

“And we’ve been good” (boys, pointing to themselves)

“As good as we could be” (all together).

“Then we are going up to bed” (pointing up),

“And go fa-a-a-st asle-e-e-p” (recited very slowly, dropping heads on the pillows).

“So, when old Santa comes” (heads raised),

“We won’t be awake to peep” (peep through fingers). The music is now resumed, the leaders turn to the rear, and follow lines R and L, turning on the rear line, and again on the side lines shown in [A]. From the side lines they turn on the dotted lines, which circle the trees. After circling the trees a few times, with the common skip step familiar to all children, a signal is given to halt. The stockings are now hung up, after which the signal is given to get back into line.

After circling the trees a few times more, they continue skipping, following the dotted lines to the side lines, then to the front line. When the leaders reach the front line, they turn on the diagonal lines, resuming the march very softly and slowly, marching on their toes. When the leaders reach lines R and L, all turn and throw a kiss to the audience, then make their exit on the same lines as on entering, still on their toes.

Diagram B.

The same number of larger children, all boys dressed like old Santa Claus, now enter the fireplace from each side, as shown in [B], running in double time on their toes. Each boy except the last in each line should wear a rein with sleigh-bells on its full length. All should be supplied with whips. On their backs old Santa’s knapsack should be strapped, filled with all sorts of things for the stockings. To increase the merriment, some of the articles should be grotesque and funny.

They enter, each driving the one in front, following lines R and L, turning right and left on reaching the front line, as shown by the arrows in B, then turning again at the next corner as indicated by the arrows. On reaching the rear they come down the diagonal lines curving around the trees, shown by arrows, and then to the front line again. They then run to the rear on lines R and L, and come down the diagonal lines, circling the trees on the dotted and curved lines, making a complete circle. After circling the trees a signal is given to halt and drop reins.

They now proceed to fill the stockings, first unstrapping their knapsacks and laying them on the floor. Signal. While the stockings are being filled, the soft, slow music should not cease, but continue the same as when the little ones are hanging them up. Each Santa should stick his whip in the top of a stocking.

A signal is now given, and the Santas all fall into line, and the running is resumed. They circle the trees, and follow the diagonal lines to the front line, then turn on lines R and L, and make their exit the same as on entering.

For a Sunday-school entertainment the small Santas can be used to distribute the presents to the children in the audience after the drill is over.

Red-Line Jubilee.

It is worth a great deal to have the right kind of memory. Although there are more bright spots than shadows in our lives, we are apt to forget this, and let the wrong kind of memory fasten itself upon us quite unawares. Many would be surprised, if they kept a record, to see how far the days with at least some gleams of gladness outnumbered the “days that are dark and cold and dreary.” Try it. For a “red-line jubilee” you need to begin a year beforehand. At New Year’s, or just before, each Junior is to be presented with a calendar, and the plan is as follows:

All that you need is your calendar, a clean pen, and a bottle of red ink. Every evening you take out your calendar, and, if the day has been a happy one, draw a red line all around the date; if it brought you only some gleams of gladness, make a red dot for every gleam; and, if it was a day of sorrow and trouble, unrelieved by any brightness, leave the date blank, with only its own black line surrounding it. Then, at the very end of the year, hold a “red-line jubilee,” and, see whose calendar makes the best showing. As every one learns by kindness to others to make his own happiness instead of being satisfied with any stale, second-hand variety, the red lines will grow more and more numerous. To the “red-line jubilee” bring all the calendars for inspection; let there be a little talk from the pastor and a short programme of songs and recitations by the Juniors, every one of the cheery kind. Here are four that will serve as samples if the recitations are to be short enough so that each Junior can have one:

I.

Smile once in a while;
’Twill make your heart seem lighter.
Smile once in a while;
’Twill make your pathway brighter.
Life’s a mirror; if we smile,
Smiles come back to greet us;
If we’re frowning all the while,
Frowns forever meet us.

II.

There’s help in seeming cheerful
When a body’s feeling blue,
In looking calm and pleasant
If there’s nothing else to do.
If other folks are wearing,
And things are all awry,
Don’t vex yourself with caring;
’Twill be better by and by.

III.

There’s never a rose in all the world
But makes some green spray sweeter;
There’s never a wind in all the sky
But makes some bird-wing fleeter;
There’s never a star but brings to heaven
Some silver radiance tender,
And never a rosy cloud but helps
To crown the sunset splendor;
No robin but may thrill some heart,
His dawn-like gladness voicing;
God gives us all some small, sweet way
To set the world rejoicing.

IV.

The little sharp vexations,
And the briers that catch and fret—
Why not take all to the Helper
Who has never failed us yet?
Tell him about the heartache,
And tell him the longings, too;
Tell him the baffled purpose
When we scarce know what to do;
Then, leaving all our weakness
With the One divinely strong,
Forget that we bore the burden,
And carry away the song.

If longer selections are wanted, “Cheer Up” and “The Bright Side” from “Junior Recitations” are both especially suitable. Such a meeting could be held the last Sunday in the year; or it could be made a sociable instead of a meeting, and held some evening during the week. In either case, don’t forget to invite outsiders and share with them the sunshine that is being made. If on a week-night, the programme should be very short; and games, with the refreshments, should fill the rest of the time. Decorate the rooms with red, including red shades over the lights if possible, and let a large frosted cake suitably marked with red lettering help to make the occasion memorable.

Among the games the variation of tag called “red line” could be included if the room is large. Stretch a red ribbon across the floor in a straight line, fastening the ends with weights or pins. This serves as a goal. One of the Juniors who has been chosen “it” cries, “Red line!” and starts to chase the other players. As soon as he touches one, both return to the line; then these two, clasping hands, start out again and touch some one else; then the three do the same; and so on. When there are four, or any even number, at the line, they may go two by two; but, whenever the number is odd, they must all run together in one long line. When all are caught, the game begins again, the first one caught in the previous game playing “it” as the new game is begun.

A “red-line hunt” would be fun, and could be arranged by hiding various small gifts or souvenirs, each tied to one end of a red cord, this wound and interlaced for some length around furniture, doors, etc., each child to be given a free end with the task of following the “red line” to its happy conclusion. Have each parcel wrapped in white tissue-paper and tied with a red ribbon or a bit of red embroidery silk, to carry out still further the plan of the evening. The gifts themselves should be very simple, and should be something equally suitable for boys and girls.

A Rope Social.

This is best fun when held in a barn, or a large attic, if stairways, etc., are safe; and it will prove a good opportunity to “rope in” new members, or at least to make those who are not members wish that they were. There is no programme, though Christian Endeavor songs at the beginning and close are in order at every Junior social. Girls may bring their skipping-ropes; and, if the place admits of swings, by all means put up several stout ones. Introduce the game of “rope ring-toss,” or “grommet-pitching,” as it is called by sailors. The rings are made of rope, with the strands first separated so as the better to weave them into smooth, firm rings about six to ten inches across. They are made all of the same size, or of graduated sizes, as preferred. If desired, they may be wound with ribbon. The game consists in throwing these “grommets” over an upright stake, or over pegs driven in the wall or in a board, each peg being numbered. The players have each a certain number of throws, and the score is kept to see who is most skilful.

When tired of this, they may play the game of “pink violets,” composed of a little delightful nonsense and a good deal of running. The song which accompanies it may be sung to the tune of “Sing a song of sixpence,” or to any other that it will fit, or to not much of any tune at all. The words are as follows:

“Pink, pink violets, and roses bright and blue!
A Junior in a prison—whatever shall we do?
We’ll open the window east, and we’ll open the window west,
And never, never tell if the prisoner does the rest!”

The children range themselves in a circle, holding a rope to help keep the circle of a uniform size. One of them, the prisoner, goes inside the ring; another, the jailer, stands outside. They begin to sing, and at the words, “We’ll open the window east, and we’ll open the window west,” the players on first one side, then the opposite, lift the rope high enough for the prisoner to pass under; but the jailer outside is watching. The prisoner may take his choice, but must run out at one side or the other before the song stops, and must try to run once entirely around the ring before being overtaken by the jailer. Those holding the rope must neither help nor hinder the runners after the start is made, and the openings must be at about equal distances from the jailer. If the prisoner can run clear around the outside of the ring without being overtaken, he takes his place with the rest, between the two whose “open window” set him free; the former jailer becomes prisoner, the former prisoner’s right-hand neighbor becomes jailer, and the game proceeds as at first. But, if the prisoner is touched ever so lightly by the one in chase, he is sent back to the centre, where he must remain; the jailer joins the ring anywhere he chooses; his right-hand neighbor becomes the new jailer and his left-hand one a new prisoner with privilege of escape; and so the game continues. Each time only the new prisoner may run out. Whenever a third of the players are in the centre at one time, it ends the game.

After the enjoyment of the games and swings an old-fashioned molasses candy-pull may complete the festivities, and, as the Juniors vie with one another in pulling and deftly handling these most fascinating “ropes” of all as they gradually assume a light golden color, the social is sure to be voted a success.

The Good Giant
A Fantasy in Two Acts and Two Scenes
By Vincent Van Marter Beede

People of the Play

Kit Loring, a boy of twelve.
Joscelin Stacey, a boy of ten.
Maysie Loring, a girl of eleven.
Gillian Stacey, a girl of twelve.
The Good Giant Greatbig.
The Three Happy Little Giants.
The Giant’s Baby.
Jack the Giant-Lover.
The Sand Man.
The Kind Bear.
The Obliging Ogre.
The Dear Dragon.
The Honest Robber.
The Motherly Giantess.
The Friendly Witch.

Time: This Very Minute.

Scene: Act I.—The Wood.
Scene: Act II.—The Castle of Giant Greatbig.

Costumes

Kit, Joscelin, Maysie, Gillian: Summer clothing, of the present fashion.

Giant: A father, uncle, or big brother, tall, deep-voiced. Scarlet shirt, loose, elephant-colored jacket and knickerbockers, scarlet hose, rough shoes. Needless to say, he should be stuffed out as much as possible. A scarlet sash stuck full of swords and daggers. An alarm-clock, with a brass chain, in his breast-pocket. Beard black and full, mustache large and fierce, eyebrows corked heavily, nose and cheeks reddened. Red bandanna bound about his head. He should not look as if he had just stepped out of a bandbox.

Little Giants: Boys of twelve, the fattest that can be found. No matter how fat they are, they should be stuffed out, just the same. Fluffy, light wigs, short gingham frocks, legs bare except for gay-colored socks,—say of emerald, scarlet, and vivid blue. Low shoes with a strap across them, after the fashion of French dolls.

Giant’s Baby: A boy or girl of ten, well stuffed out. White long clothes, tight white cap, ruddy face. The Baby should carry a policeman’s rattle.

Jack: A trim boy of eleven, handsomely dressed. Brown jacket, slashed with Lincoln green; long green hose, pointed brown shoes. A gilt belt, and a sword and a dagger in gilt scabbards. A curling horn slung over his shoulder. A small brown cap with green feathers.

Sand Man: A boy of ten or eleven. Buff or light-gray jacket and knickerbockers, pointed cap, long white beard, brown stockings, canvas slippers. A sack, apparently filled with sand, slung over his shoulders. A sand-pail fastened to a leather belt, and in one hand a child’s sand-shovel.

Bear: A good-sized boy of fourteen, with a gruff voice. A skin of a polar or black bear thrown about loosely-fitting white or black clothing. Clumsy shoes. Better still, a regulation costumer’s bear’s head, a long fur coat, and Indian moccasins of fur.

Ogre: A boy of twelve. Jacket and knickerbockers in red and white stripes, red sash, high boots. Huge nose, brown beard, Turkish fez.

Dragon: A slim boy of ten or twelve in tight-fitting clothes striped in orange and red. Gold belt, long claws on hands and feet. If possible, a rented crocodile’s head; but a head can be constructed of red and orange cloth sewed over pasteboard, a large cone representing the snout, two smaller cones the horns. A long, crinkly tail,—orange and red strips wound about a heavy rope.

Robber: A piratical-looking boy of ten in a green jacket, red knickerbockers, and top-boots. A blue sash stuck full of weapons, large mustache, wide felt hat with green plumes.

Giantess: A mother, aunt, or big sister, dressed to look as large as possible. Yellow gown, a long white apron.

Witch: A nimble little girl of nine or ten. Black, pointed cap, black cape and skirt.

Scenery

Act. I. Scene 1. The best trees are real ones, saplings and evergreens, cut the morning before the performance. Painted scenery of course should be used to help out. Palms and shrubs can be rented for the evening. A great many pieces of candy—say, molasses drops wrapped in tissue-paper—should be laid in the branches of the sugar-plum tree. The bean-stalk can be made of three good-sized poles, set close together in openings cut through the stage. The tops should go up out of sight of the audience and be secured to a platform where actors can hide at the right time. The poles should be wound with real foliage, or with green tissue-paper. The trunk of the telephone tree might be a hollow log, in which a small door is cut. The bell and cardboard receiver are hung inside the opening. Branches should be skilfully thrust into the top of the log, to finish the tree. Branches should be heaped also about the “roots” of all the trees, and the more green things there are scattered about the stage, the better. The blunderbuss is made by fitting a cardboard horn to the end of a rifle, shot-gun, or toy gun; but the entire weapon can be made of wood and cardboard.

Scene 2. Before the curtain goes up the bean-poles should be lifted out of their sockets, and the tops loosened and held in place by ropes in the hands of actors on the platform above. At the right moment the poles are allowed to fall.

Act II. The fireplace may be cut through sheets of cardboard. A box may be placed in the opening. The larger the fireplace, the more giant-like will it seem. It would be a very good thing if some of the little carpenters in the company could make a huge chair, table, and cradle.

ACT I.

SCENE 1.

—A clearing in a thick wood. Left, the bean-stalk; right, the sugar-plum tree and the telephone tree. The four children, Kit, Joscelin, Maysie, Gillian, are discovered, with their clothes somewhat torn and mussed. The girls are seated on a fallen log. An open and empty lunch-basket lies before them. The boys, armed with sticks, are moving about. At the rise of the curtain Maysie is sobbing.

Kit. Cheer up, sis. What’s the use of crying? It isn’t so very late, is it, Jos? We can’t be many miles from home. We’ve got our compass along, you know; and all we have to do is to keep due east.

Gillian. I’m sick of our old exploring, anyway! (Sniffling a bit.)

Joscelin. You make me tired, Gill! What do we care?

Gillian. It was your plan, Jos, and you see how it has come out. I believe that farmer was telling you a whopper when he said there was a robbers’ cave in these woods.

Kit. O no, he wasn’t. It is a true story. Tommy Field’s father says it is. He says people have been hunting for the cave a hundred years, and that there is treasure——

Maysie (wiping her eyes). I’d rather have a nice big piece of bread and molasses than ten million rubies, I would!

Joscelin. We may find some checkerberries yet.

(The roaring of a bear, and the trolling of a song, heard.)

The Girls (rushing toward the boys). Oh! Oh! Oh! A bear! What shall we do?

Kit. Hide—and be quick about it! There—into those thick bushes! (The girls hide at rear.) Jos, we’ve got to defend them! Wish I had a gun or something!

Joscelin. I think I had better shin up a tree!

Kit. Not a bit of it. Let’s hide, though.

(They do so, peeping out from time to time, and flourishing their clubs. The roaring and singing become louder. The words of the song, sung in a great, gruff voice, are the following.)

Sing fol de rol de riddle-iddle ay!
I am big, and I am strong,
Happy as the day is long.
The sheep, they follow trusting at my heels.
Upon my shoulders light
The cooing pigeons white,
And in my pockets squirrels find their meals.
Sing fol de rol de riddle-iddle ay!

Sing fol de rol de riddle-iddle ay!
No brazen club for me!
No bloody trickery!
No dragging of a princess by the hair!
No robbing of birds’ nests,
No eating up of guests,
No frightening of peasants at a fair!
Sing fol de rol de riddle-iddle ay!

(Enter, right, the Good Giant Greatbig, carrying a blunderbuss, and arm in arm with the Kind Bear.)

The Good Giant.

Fee—fi—fo—fum!
I smell some boys and girls, I vum!
Be they short, or be they tall,
I’ll hunt them out, and kiss them all!

Come on, Bear! I hear breathings. Don’t be frightened, my dear kids. We wouldn’t eat you for anything.

Kit (sticking his head around the tree). Honestly?

Giant and Bear. Honestly!

Giant. Come out, all of you. I want to talk with you. (The children come forward, the girls more timidly than the boys. The girls scream when the Bear offers his paw and hugs them gently. The boys, too, are hugged, to their amusement. Giant kisses the children.) How do you happen to be in the middle of the wood, all by yourselves, at this time of day?

Joscelin. We’re lost. We have been trying to find the robbers’ cave. Say, are you a real giant?

Giant. Of course, my boy. Do I appear like a midget? I am not only a giant, but the last of the giants. My uncle was the famous Two-Headed Giant, and my fourteenth cousin was slain by Jack the Giant-Killer.

Kit. Is he alive?

Giant. Very much so, I can assure you. Do you know, he’s my only enemy? To tell the truth, I’m mortally afraid of him. He’s a terrible boy. He’s sure death on giants, and will never believe that I’m not as bad as my relatives. I’m afraid he’ll get the best of me some fine day.

Gillian. Please, sir, how can we get home? I want to go, awfully bad!

Giant. Well, now, little girl, I’ll see that you get home safely, never fear. But, dear me, you are the first children that I have met in these deep woods. I generally go about at night to keep out of the way of Jack, the Giant-Killer, but my wife wanted me to shoot a few eagles for supper.

Joscelin. Can you tell us where the robbers’ cave is?

Bear. I live in it.

Kit. Is there treasure?

Bear. O, a few pecks of emeralds; that’s all. I threw most of them away. They are very uncomfortable to lie on.

Joscelin. Where are the robbers?

Bear. Dead, all except the captain. He has turned honest, and lives with the Giant.

Giant (who has been gazing upward). Hi! There’s an eagle! (Raises blunderbuss. Children stop their ears. He fires. An eagle drops at his feet.) And there’s a crow! (Shoots again. A bunch of black feathers floats down.) I’ve only clipped his tail-feathers! How ridiculous the bird must look! Listen, children. If you start for home now, it will be dark before you get there. Why can’t you spend the night at my castle?

Kit. Our parents would——

Giant. I know. You think your people will be anxious. I’ll telephone them. (Goes to the tree at the right, opens a little door in the trunk, takes down a telephone receiver, and rings the bell.) What’s your number? Cucumber? (Rings bell again.)

Kit. No. It’s 333.

Giant (speaking into the telephone). Give me 333. Thank you. Who is this? Mr. Loring? This is Mr. Greatbig. I found some of your little relatives lost in the wood, and they are going to stay at my house over night. Don’t be alarmed. They will come home in the morning. Good-by. I didn’t give him a chance to say “No.”

Bear. Are you hungry, children?

Maysie. Terribly!

Bear. Then I’d better shake the sugar-plum tree.

(Shakes a tree, right. Shower of candy. The children scramble for it. Clear sound of a horn.)

Giant (much disturbed). Fee—fi—fo—fum! Jack’s horn! Children, I beg of you to escape with me, or I am done for. Here—up this bean-stalk!

(A louder blast from the horn. Bear and Giant boost the boys up the bean-stalk, left.)

Giant and Bear. Hurry! Hurry!

CURTAIN.

SCENE 2.

—The same. Jack the Giant-Killer is chopping furiously at the bean-stalk. His horn, his lantern, and his sword lie near at hand.

Voice of Kit (from above). Too late, Jacky, my boy. We’ve chopped off our end of the stalk; so we’re safe and sound.

(Shower of beans falls on Jack.)

CURTAIN.

ACT II.

SCENE 1.

—A room in Giant Greatbig’s Castle. Rear, left, window; fireplace, with lighted candle on the mantel, centre; door, right, rear. Bare wooden floor. Left, a big cradle, containing the Giant’s baby. A rocking-chair next the cradle. Right, a rude table, on it a drinking-mug as large as a bucket. Smoke-stained walls. At the rise, a ring-around dance is going on to lively music. Those dancing are the Giant, the Bear, the Dear Dragon, the Obliging Ogre, and the four lost children. The Motherly Giantess stands at right, beating time with a potato-masher on a chopping-bowl. The door bursts open. Enter the Three Happy Little Giants in great excitement.

First H. L. G. O papa! papa!

(Dance and music cease.)

Giant. What is it, my child?

First H. L. G. Why, we peeped over the edge of the bean-stalk cliff, and Jack chopped the stalk down, and it fell on his leg, and he lies there groaning!

Giantess. The poor fellow! Hub, what are you going to do about it?

Giant. We must help the lad. Boys, get the rope ladder. (They do so.)

Obliging Ogre. Here, give it to me. What is an ogre for if not to be obliging? Come on, everybody! [Exeunt all but Giantess.

Enter through window, left, the Friendly Witch and her broomstick.

Witch. Good-evening, Mrs. Greatbig.

Giantess. Goo—good-evening! How you startled me! What have you been doing to-day?

Witch. O, sweeping cobwebs off the sky, so that it will be bright and pleasant for picnics to-morrow. I cleaned soot out of chimneys to save work for the poor little sweep-boys, and I gave old men and women diamond spectacles with gold rims so that they can read without hurting their eyes.

Giantess. You are a good soul indeed.

Witch. O, no, I’m not. I’m just reporting progress. And I dropped chocolates, and caps with lavender ribbons, through the open windows of Old Ladies’ Homes.

Giantess. Lovely! lovely!

Witch. But the best fun of all was giving a breath of air to fifty poor women who work in city factories. I rode them on my broomstick three or four hundred miles or so. One dear thing cracked her funny-bone on the north star. I didn’t mean to brush by so closely. (Enter the Ogre and the Giant, supporting Jack, whose leg is neatly bandaged. The other people follow. Jack is placed in the rocking-chair, by the fire.) I can make his leg well, quick as a wink! (She touches Jack’s leg with her broomstick. He pulls off the bandage, and capers about delightedly.)

Jack. Thank you, dear Witch. Giant Greatbig, I am more sorry than I can say that I have hounded you all this time. I never suspected that you were a good giant. You know the kind of man your uncle used to be.

Giant (shaking hands with Jack). Well, now we are good friends, aren’t we, hey?

Jack. You know I’m an orphan. I wonder if you would care to adopt me.

Giant. A very good plan. I know you will set a good example to my boys, and make yourself useful generally.

Giantess (hugging Jack). You dear child, you! To think that an hour ago I dreaded to hear your very name spoken! My! How muscular you are!

Jack. Dear Mr. and Mrs. Greatbig, I would like to change my name. Hereafter I wish to be known as Jack the Giant-Lover.

(All cheer and clap their hands. The Dear Dragon, after embracing Jack, goes to centre and recites):

O, once I was a Nawful Thing—a dread to man and child.
I snorted and cavorted till the villagers went wild.
I ate a church and steeple and three hundred pews of people,
And then I waved my crinkly tail, and bellowed, bowed, and smiled.

Of course I was a favorite when July Fourth came round,
For my firework and my smoke-murk were the finest to be found.
Why, people paid a dollar just to hear my mighty holler,
And when I breathed out ten-foot flames they fell flat on the ground.

To shorten my biography, I’ll whisper what befell.
A fire-brigade it was that made me anything but well.
They played the hose, and soaked me, and with their wall-hooks poked me,
Until I crawled away more wet and sore than I can tell.

I took a cold, and nearly died. When I grew strong again,
I could no more breathe flames, and roar from my grim mountain den.
I had no great desire, sir, to scorch the fields with fire, sir,
Or to make my meals of churches filled with chubby village men.

(Loud rapping heard.)

Giant. Come in!

Enter the Honest Robber.

Robber. Hollo, everybody. Having a tea-party, Mrs. Giantess?

Giantess. O, no. Hub picked up some nice lost children in the wood, and here they are. Children, this is Rob Highway, the Honest Robber.

(The Honest Robber shakes hands with all the children.)

Giant (drinking from his mug). Well, Rob, my boy, how have you been making yourself useful to-day?

Robber. This morning I went to the dog-pound with a furniture-van, and filled it cram-full of lost puppies—cram-full, children. You never heard such a growling and yowling in your life. I drove slowly, and whenever I heard a child crying: “I want my dog! He’s lost!” I’d say, “Describe him,” and it wasn’t long, generally, before the dog and his little master were in each other’s arms.

Kit. Hurrah for you, old man!

Joscelin. What else did you do?

Robber. This evening I have chased seventeen burglars and taken away their stolen goods from them.

Maysie. Did you keep the things yourself?

Robber. Fie, fie, no! I’m an Honest Robber. I restored the property, and made a hundred dollars reward.

(A distant clock strikes twelve, and the Giant’s alarm-clock goes off in his pocket. He takes it out hurriedly.)

Giant. Yes, I am correct. Gracious, children, it’s very late for you to be up! My dear, shouldn’t they go to sleep at once?

Giantess. Yes, by all means, hub. I’ve been so excited I forgot all about such a thing as bedtime. [Exit, left.

Giant. I’ll telephone for the Sand Man. (Goes to the telephone at the right of the fireplace.) 128 Seashore, please. Hollo, Sandy. Take the first gust of wind for Castle Greatbig. He’ll be here in a moment, children.

(Enter Giantess, left, with green boughs.)

Giantess (strewing boughs on the floor). Sit right down, chickabiddies. (The Lorings and Staceys and the children of the Giant sit down together.)

Giant. Good-night, children. My helpers and I have an important piece of work to do between now and sunrise. We are going to carry a dozen or two tenement-houses from the city into the country, and set them down gently in green fields.

Gillian. Won’t the children be surprised and happy when they wake up!

Bear. And in place of the houses we shall lay out a beautiful playground for the poor children who are left in the neighborhood. Good night, all!

Children. Good night!

Jack. Good night!

Ogre. Good night!

Children. Good night!

Dragon. Happy dreams!

Children. Good night!

Robber. Good night!

Children. Good night!

Witch. Good night! [Exit by the window.

Giant. I’ll be back in the morning to see that you get home safely. Good night!

Children and Giantess. Good night!

Enter Sand Man, softly, by door, right, without rapping. Giantess nods to him, then blows out all but one candle. The Sand Man waves his hand. The children sink back on the boughs. He then casts a little imaginary sand from his bag into each eye, and goes out as softly as he came. Giantess takes up her baby from the cradle, left. It squalls. She hushes it, seats herself in a rocking-chair, centre, and sings this lullaby:

B-a, ba, b-o, bo,
B-i, bi, baby bye.
Mamma’s little Giant is tired of all his play,
Tired of all the mischief he has done to-day;
Tired of pulling pine-trees clear up by the roots.
Go to sleep, my Giant, my six-foot Tootsy-Woots!

(Children snore.)

CURTAIN.

Orange Social.

Have bunches of yellow flowers pinned to draperies and in other places where the romping will not cause breakages. All the other decorations, as far as possible, should be of the same cheerful hue. Some one may give a brief talk describing “The Children that Live where Oranges Grow,” illustrated by stereopticon or by some of the Perry Pictures. This, if carefully prepared, can be made very interesting to children of colder climates than those of sunny Italy and our own South. Missionary features may be introduced if desired.

After the talk have the decks cleared for action. Did you ever see, or participate in, a game of orange croquet? If not, you have missed a great deal of fun. It is merely parlor croquet, with oranges for balls, umbrella-handles for mallets, and big books placed tent-wise upon the floor for wickets. An umpire could be improvised out of an orange, a squash, and four or five sticks or clothes-pins. Cut the features in the orange-peel with a penknife, fasten the orange head and the squash body together with a short stick whittled sharp at the ends, insert the clothes-pins for arms and legs, and your umpire is complete.

Following the croquet may be the game of “Mr. Woodenhead.” A strip of orange-colored cambric is stretched on the floor, across the room, to form a race-course. At one end place a large tray of oranges, at the other an empty basket. The game is to see who in a given time can carry the most oranges safely across the room, from tray to basket, with the aid only of a wooden spoon. A jolly face painted or carved on the outside of the bowl of the spoon, and a large yellow bow tied on for a cravat, turns the spoon into “Mr. Woodenhead.” He may be presented as a souvenir to the winner of the race.

Refreshments may be sandwiches, lemonade, and orange squares, or other plain cake with orange icing. As the children are about to go home, they may be given each a missionary mite-box in the form of an orange, to fill for the benefit of some mission field; or, if it has not been a missionary social, a souvenir that would please any child is a little basket cut out of the peel of an orange, using half, with a strip of peel from the other half left on for a handle, the basket so made to be filled with candies.

A Flower Show.

Each boy or girl represents a flower. Every one jots down the names of the other guests and the names of the flowers which he supposes they are. The reward for the most names might be a dozen roses, and for the least a pair of sunflowers, or a bunch of squash-blossoms, or a geranium growing in a bright-colored tin can. Here are some hints for costumes:

1. Pennyroyal. An English penny hung from the neck by a ribbon.

2. Oxeye. A target painted on a card. An arrow is sticking through the “bull’s-eye.”

3. Monk’s-hood. A boy wearing a monk’s cowl, or perhaps the complete dress of a monk.

4. Goldenrod. The boy or girl carries a brass curtain-rod.

5. Hop. The boy or girl must occasionally hop on one foot.

6. Four-o’clock, or Thyme, either one. A clock hung from the neck is set at four o’clock.

7. Elder. A boy is made to appear like an old man. His hair is dusted with flour, and wrinkles are painted on his face. He should lean on a staff, and wear spectacles.

8. Broom. A girl dressed like a housekeeper carries a tiny broom.

9. Rocket (rock it). A girl is rocking her doll in a cradle.

10. Sage. A solemn, wise-looking boy in spectacles, top hat, and long trousers. He must frequently peep into a large book.

11. Sweet-william. A boy named William should wear a necklace made of lumps of sugar.

12. Jonquil. A boy named John, wearing quills in every available place.

When the guessing and refreshments are over, a floral game which might be added is that of “Red and White Roses.” Sixteen can play. Tie a narrow strip of cloth to one sleeve of each Junior, eight of the strips white and eight red, to distinguish the Red from the White Roses. Appoint a captain from each side, or let one be chosen by “counting out.” Determine in the same way which side shall move first. Spread a sheet on the floor; mark it off with black crayon in sixteen squares, four on a side; and you are ready. The object of each division is to get four players of its own color in a row, either straight or diagonally. The first captain begins by placing himself on any square he chooses. The captain from the other side does the same, and the other players follow, one from each side moving alternately and trying to secure the row of red or white roses as the case may be. This game, believed to be a new one, is likely to prove a favorite.

An Evening with “Ads.”

Set the Juniors to collecting clever pictorial advertisements, omitting, of course, the liquor and tobacco ones. Each might learn what facts he can, of general interest, regarding the trade-mark chosen or the business represented in connection with the pictures he has selected. Then the Juniors invite their friends, young and old, to a social “evening with ads.”

The pictures are pinned by the Juniors to a large sheet previously fastened to the wall. After they have been thoroughly examined by the guests, they are taken down and distributed by the Juniors. One picture, together with paper and pencil, is given to each guest, who is then requested to write, in verse, a few lines to fit the picture. After this all are called upon to read what has been written. For example, a shirt-maker has an advertisement showing the picture of the back of a man’s head labelled, “This is Tom; meet me face to face,” with the question, “Am I Irish or Scotch?” written above it. The rhyme produced to fit it was as follows:

“Can this be Tom, the piper’s son,
Of pork-abstracting fame?
If so, he must be Irish, sure,
The pig could prove that same!
And Irish linen shirts, you know,
Must be the very best;
So buy your goods henceforth of Tom;
You’ll find they stand the test.”

The papers are collected and put in a safe place, after which a vote is taken on the merits of the various effusions.

The pictures are then again distributed, this time to their owners among the Juniors, who have been making them a special study, and each Junior who is prepared tells a fact or two in regard to one of the pictures. The trade-mark of a certain popular brand of cocoa originated in Holland more than two hundred years ago, and no doubt the way in which it came to be chosen would make an interesting story. These incidents will bring out still other similar facts which the guests may happen to know regarding the advertisements, and a half-hour or so will thus pass pleasantly and instructively to all.

Refreshments may consist of some of the articles advertised, or of sandwiches, apple salad, small cakes, and lemonade, or, if in the proper season, hot maple syrup and biscuit at a charge of twenty cents a plate. If so voted, a more or less extended report of the evening’s entertainment may be sent to the newspaper; and a marked copy may be sent to the firm whose unique picture advertisement won the popular vote. This should be accompanied by a letter of explanation.

A “Jap” Social.

Have you ever seen the pretty little Japanese cottages in Jackson Park, Chicago, with their quaint decorations looking as if they had been transported in some really magical way from the land of the lotus blossom? It was looking at these that gave me the idea of a “Jap social” for the Juniors.

Arrange Japanese fans, parasols, and lanterns about the room, lay down strips or rugs of Japanese matting, and partition off various cosey nooks with Japanese screens. Have no chairs, but plenty of cushions instead. As to flowers, they can be chosen from a long list—chrysanthemums, white lilies and roses, purple Canterbury bells, cherry blossoms, clematis, yellow and white water-lilies; the pink lotus and white feathery orchid are not so easy to procure, but might be imitated, perhaps, with paper. At one such social the walls were entirely covered with branches of trees sprinkled thickly with cherry blossoms made of pink paper, representing the beautiful gardens of Tokyo.

This would be a good occasion for the Juniors to entertain strangers and “grown-ups,” and charge an admission fee, as it can be made very pretty and interesting.

Costumes for the Juniors can be improvised from flowered silk or cotton draperies with a little basting, a twist here, and a pin there, such as deft fingers can give. Do not forget the obi, or broad sash, the flowing sleeves, and the fans, for the little girls. One of the boys might wear a straw rain-coat, which is strictly Japanese, and is made as shown in the [picture]. Another boy might be a water-carrier, dressed in dark-blue cotton and bearing a yoke on his shoulders, from each end of which hangs a wooden water-pail.

The bells of Japan have a remarkably musical, silvery tone; tradition says that the finest have much silver in their composition, which may account for their deep and wonderful sweetness. Whether this be true or not, they are much more musical than Japanese music itself. They are not sounded by a clapper within, but are struck from the outside, by a sort of wooden arm or battering-ram. This might be imitated, by a little experimenting.

Tables should be placed around, containing curios and Japanese ware for sale, including blotters and other small articles decorated in Japanese designs, some of which can be prepared by the Juniors themselves; also real Japanese boxes and trays; the fine Japanese colored photographs procured from the United Society of Christian Endeavor; and the quaint Japanese dolls. Coins from Japan, if procurable, will be of interest.

Among the articles for sale should be the toy called by Japanese children “Daruma San,” or “Mr. Daruma.” It is a strong pasteboard figure of an old man in a squatting position, and is so rounded and weighted at the bottom that it will always bob up in a sitting posture, no matter how often one may knock it over. Another toy still more interesting is the “Ukibara.” These perfectly plain-looking little paper sticks are magical in their possibilities, for when placed in water they act as if they were alive, unfolding and floating around in the form of brightly colored fishes, flowers, fruits, animals, and many other pretty and curious things. Children, and older people, too, will watch them a long time without tiring of the amusement. They come in envelopes. An outfit costs fifteen cents, and can also be procured from the United Society.

Stories and recitations about Japan are in order. A fan drill by a number of girls would be a pretty feature to introduce, if desired, even though not new enough to claim space for description here.

Refreshments might include tea for the grown-up guests, sandwiches for all, small bowls of rice to be eaten with chopsticks, hot ears of roasted sweet corn on a pretty Japanese tray, and a variety of sweet cakes. All should be served on tiny square individual tables about six inches high; and, if any one complains at being obliged to fold himself up like an umbrella in order to partake of these delicacies, tell him that his complaints cannot be understood unless he will consent to express them in Japanese. But, as every one is extremely polite in Japan, there will probably be no trouble of this kind.

Sky-Parlor Reception, No. 1.

AN attic is usually a wonderland of delight to any normal child, whether a reader of Sara Crewe’s charming adventures or not; but it is a wonderland too little explored. A large, clean, light, old-fashioned attic may be utilized in turn for a reception-hall, curiosity-shop, library, work-room, dramatic recital, and romping-ground. Its possibilities are great, and would fill several afternoons. One such occasion might be as follows:

Let the Juniors be received with more or less ceremony by the committee of large or small folk who are acting as hosts and hostesses. If old-fashioned costumes are worn by those receiving, it adds to the fun. After the arrival in the “sky-parlor,” the guests are privileged to have a sight of any antique relics that have curious stories connected with them. If a nice grandma can be found to tell the stories, so much the better; but it is to be hoped that she will not prove too fascinating if there is to be any work done.

Tables are placed around in light portions of the attic, spread with piles of old papers and magazines, and a pair of scissors and a chair for each child. The Juniors look through the periodicals, and clip pictures, and perhaps stories also, that they think would be good for future scrap-book use, placing them in boxes, to be sorted next time. Rosy apples, nuts, and pop-corn will be acceptable after their arduous labors, and the Juniors will go home quite ready to come again the very next Saturday afternoon.

Sky-Parlor Reception, No. 2.

This time a corner of the attic is transformed into a representation of Sara Crewe’s odd little room, so cleverly and mysteriously changed from dismal bareness to cosey luxury by the East Indian friend next door. There should be a cot, cushions, rugs, draperies, quaint Oriental ornaments, and last, but not least, the three essentials—Sara herself, her long-suffering doll, and the monkey. A toy monkey will do. The story may be read—and more or less acted, if desired—for the entertainment of the children.

Either before or afterward some of the clippings may be sorted ready for scrap-books; and a few such afternoons of mingled work and play will be among the brightest experiences of the Juniors.

A Pastery Party.

Be very mysterious in your remarks about what is to go on at this party, answering all questions by whispering in the ears of your friends: “Why, don’t you know what a pastery party is like? I’m really surprised!”

There is pastry and pastry. A pastery party, to keep the secret no longer, is a scrap-book party, nothing more. O, but it’s fun! Try it. Get hold of a lot of illustrated periodicals; the more guests you have, the more magazines you need. If you can find colored picture cards besides, all the better. Ask your mother to make enough flour paste to fill several cups. Fifteen or twenty guests are not too many. A sheet, an old table-cloth, or neat pieces of wrapping-paper should be spread on the table or tables. There must be plenty of elbow-room for scrap-booking.

A pastery party need not be an expensive affair. I once had three dozen scrap-books made for about two dollars and fifty cents. This is the way I went about it: Down at the wholesale wrapping-paper store I bought a good-sized pile of sheets left over from a large order. The paper was manila, smooth, and not too thin or too thick. I cannot remember the exact measurements. At any rate, the old binder up-town cut them into two sizes, and the smaller size, eight by fifteen inches, is the best for a pastery party. There should not be more than twenty pages in a book. My covers were of terra-cotta cartridge-paper. Any medium heavy paper will do. If you wish to be economical, you can stitch each book with a single piece of string, punching the holes with a scissors-blade. The books should be numbered.

When the guests, seated at the tables, are waiting for the pie (or something) to be brought on, you and your assistants should enter, dressed in chefs’ aprons and caps, from the kitchen, first with a trayful of paste-cups, which you should set on the table in a very dignified manner, one cup for each guest. Maybe the guests will peer into their cups, and wonder whether they are expected to eat their custard without any spoons! As soon as they catch sight of the mucilage-brushes—which can be procured cheaply at the stationer’s—and the scissors, they will begin to suspect what is meant by the word “pastery.” Bring on next the scrap-books and the magazines, and tell your friends that at the end of an hour of “scrapping” rewards will be given by three grown-up judges for (1) the neatest and best-arranged book, (2) for the book containing the largest number of pictures, and (3) for the book which is filled first.

The time-limit should be exact. Every person should write down on a piece of paper the number marked on the cover of his book, and next to the number his own name. The books should be carried to the judges, who are seated up-stairs in a room with closed doors. Not until they have announced the winning numbers will they be furnished with the slips of paper containing the names to which the numbers belong. By taking these precautions the contest will be absolutely fair. The scrap-books should be given next day to the children’s ward of a hospital, or to the children’s room in a library. Each pastery-cook’s name should be written in his book, and under the names of the successful competitors should be set down what rewards they won.

The rewards might be these: A handsome scrap-book, a bottle of library paste, and a pair of scissors. While the judges are deciding, the company might play “Jenkins up!” or cut paper dolls. The refreshments might be miniature apple-pies, the size of a small saucer, for each guest. After the party is over ask those guests who did not have time to paste their books full kindly to do so at home and return them to the hostess as soon as possible.

A Pillow-Fight.

To prepare for this, the Juniors will be busy collecting “ammunition” for some time, from all quarters—woods and fields, garden and lawn, library and sewing-room. When there is enough, they can have their pillow-fight. In fact, they may need to have several of them.

First, the various pillows, or cushions, must be made. The girls can first make the plain, square, muslin foundation bags, and then embroider covers for them, or they can make the covers by sewing bright ribbons together in strips, or by crocheting them, or in various other ways to suit their own taste. Each Junior girl, from the oldest to the youngest, will want to make one.

Meanwhile, both boys and girls can collect, prepare, and sort the materials for filling them. Some can be filled with cotton, with a little sachet-powder sprinkled in; others, with paper torn into small pieces; others, with pine needles; others, with dried rose-leaves—or the rose-leaves, if not very plentiful, may be mixed with bits of paper, or used with cotton instead of sachet-powder. The clean, fine inner husks of corn, torn into shreds, and dried, make excellent ones; and a recent fancy is for pillows filled with dried autumn leaves. I would not advise feathers; they are not so inexpensive, and are usually too much trouble when flying about in a room full of people. The other materials named above are all easy to manage, and still other good ones will be likely to occur to the Juniors and their friends.

When the foundation pillows are filled and sewed up, which in itself will be both fun and work for the whole society, and before the decorated covers are put on, is the time to have the pillow-fight. Divide the Juniors into two companies; line them up across the room from one another, with their ammunition; and if they are normal children they will need no instructions how to proceed. The pillows are “fired” merrily back and forth until one company or the other is driven from its stronghold or has had all its ammunition confiscated by the opposing forces. It is a good test of the sewing, too; for, unless the stitches are secure, there may be a sudden shower of rose-leaves, paper snowflakes, or autumn treasures, when least expected.

Nuts and apples, or other simple refreshments, will be welcome when the battle is over. The outside covers are then put on the pillows, and the last bit of sewing—the one seam left open in the pretty cover—may be finished if there is time, or taken home by the Juniors to be completed there. The pillows, when done, may be either sold at a fair or given to some home for invalids, where there never can be too many or too great a variety. If the latter plan is adopted, a cheering message, either a comforting verse from the Bible—the health promises are the best, and will often do what the doctor’s medicine cannot—or a bit of sunshine from some bright or restful poem may be written on a slip of paper and pinned to each pillow. Selecting, writing, and attaching these will make more pleasant work for the Juniors, which may be done separately or together.

A Good-Luck Social.

For a late October social, perhaps for a Hallowe’en frolic, this will be liked by many; but it is good at any time of the year.

A good-luck fairy, or witch, in a long red cloak and high pointed hat, should be mistress of ceremonies. If the time is Hallowe’en, the rooms may be lighted with Jack-o’-lanterns. One doorway may have a portière of apples hung on strings of different lengths. The tallest Juniors are to stoop and “bite” for those hanging on the longest strings; the shorter ones reach for those above, in the same way. In the middle of this portière hangs a horseshoe, and for the first game let the Juniors each try to throw three tiny apples between the prongs of the horseshoe. Those successful in doing so are supposed to have good luck throughout the coming year.

Another game that might be played is apple-shooting. Place apples of distinctive colors, red, yellow, and green, afloat in a tub of water, and let the Juniors shoot at them with toy bows and arrows. To fire an arrow into a red apple assures one of good health; to shoot a yellow one means wealth; and those who succeed in hitting the green ones are to have some especial piece of great good luck.

Arrange the chairs in the form of a horseshoe, and seat the Juniors, all except two—one who goes out of the room, and one who acts as “reporter,” and must have a good memory. This is the game of “wishes and compliments.” Each player makes a remark or wish concerning the one out of the room. For instance, one says, “She wears a wig.” Another, “I wish she would sing a song.” A third, “She can’t sing a note.” A fourth, “She can recite beautifully.” A fifth, “I wish she may go to Africa as a missionary.” A sixth, “She is dreadfully conceited.” A seventh, “She is the best scholar in her class,” etc. The “compliments” will not all be of the most flattering kind, and the wishes will be either sensible or nonsensical ones, as occur to the wishers. Then the reporter calls in the absent one, tells her that one person has said so-and-so about her, and asks her to guess from the remark who the person is. She has only one guess for each remark. As soon as she guesses one correctly, the one thus discovered must take her place; and so on throughout the game.