Scene I.A TOPSY TURVY CHRISTMAS.
(Enter Alice, angrily, runs across front of stage, clenches fists, stamps—in short, has a real temper fit, and ends by throwing herself down, and screaming noisily. Enter Frank, sulkily. He goes slowly and sullenly to where Alice is crying, then stops, looking sullenly down at her.)
Frank—What’s the matter, Alice?
Alice—I’m mad.
Frank—So I see. What about?
Alice—(looking up) What are you mad about, yourself? You look like a thunder cloud.
Frank—I’m not mad.
Alice—Yes, you are, too. I know. (gets up) What is the matter, truly?
Frank—(crossly)Nothing, I tell you. What were you screeching so for?
Alice—’Cause I was mad, I tell you.
Frank—What for?
Alice—Say, I’ll tell you what I was mad at, if you will, too. Will you?
Frank—Perhaps—well, yes, I suppose I could. You first, though.
Alice—No, you.
Frank—Ladies first, always.
Alice—There, that’s it, exactly. That “always.” Why should a thing always be just the same? You must always say “ladies first,” and both of us must offer each other the biggest piece, when we want it ourselves, and always mind what the grown-ups say, and shut the door, and a whole lot of nonsense. Whyshouldn’tthe grown-ups mind us part of the time?
Frank—Is that what you are mad at?
Alice—Yes, it is. My mother thinks I ought to mind everything she says, and never talk back, and when I said I was going over to Kitty’s she said I couldn’t, and when I—argued a little about it, she said I was saucy, and spanked me. I wish I could find a place where mothers had to mind their children a while, and see how they like it.
Frank—So do I. My teacher kept me after school because I couldn’t answer every question in my geography lesson. Why don’t she answer some of them? We scholars have to do all the work, and the teacher just listens and watches for something to find fault with, all the time.
Alice—I know. Why don’t they let us ask the questions? It would be much the best way, I’m sure. And rules. I’m so sick of rules. You mustn’t do this and you mustn’t do that, and if you do, some one will punish you. I’d like to live where there weren’t any rules at all, and where children were the biggest for a spell. Wouldn’t I teach them a thing or two?
Frank—There isn’t any such place, I’m afraid. I never learned about it in my geography.
Alice—You’ve never been way through it yet. Perhaps there is, now. Let’s hunt for it.
Frank—All right, let’s. (They sit down on floor, and open geography, turning the leaves slowly.)
Alice—Oh dear. I can’t read half fast enough. It would take most a year to read all that, and two more years to study all the maps. Let’s go ask one of the High School boys or girls. They’ve learned it all.
Frank—No, let’s don’t. They’d only laugh at us. The big ones always do. Let’s go look for it ourselves. We’ll have adventures on the way, most likely, and it will be great sport.
Alice—All right, let’s. Shall we start now?
Frank—Sure. Shall I go this way and you that, like Red Riding Hood and the wolf, or shall we go together?
Alice—Oh, together. I’d be afraid to go alone, I’m sure. Hark! What was that? (A little tinkle is heard.)
Frank—Sounded like a very little bit of a bell.
Alice—Listen, and see if it comes again. (The tinkle grows louder, and the fairy trips lightly on stage.)
Alice and Frank Together—Oh!
Fairy—I’m the Fairy Tinkle Bell, of Everywhere. I heard two little children wishing for a new land, and I’ve come to show them the way.
Alice—Oh goody, goody. Won’t I have to mind there?
Fairy—No.
Frank—And are things different than they are here?
Fairy—Yes, indeed.
Alice—Then we’ll go. Take us now, good Fairy, do.
Frank—How far is it?
Fairy—So far that you never could find the way alone, but I can take you there in one moment. You have only to do as I say.
Both Children—Oh, we will, we will.
Fairy—Then take hold of hands, close your eyes, and go round three times, saying “Topsy Turvy” three times, slowly. Then say “Here we are” and open your eyes. That is all.
(Children do so. Fairy waves wand, and curtain rises as she flits out. Children open eyes.)
Frank—(who is facing audience) What next? Why, where is she?
Alice—Why, why, everything is different. It’s not the same place at all. Where are we?
(Knarf and Ecila run in.)
Knarf—You’re in Topsy Turvy land, of course.
Ecila—Isn’t that where you wanted to be?
Derf—(running in) ’Cause you’re here, whether you want to be or not.
Frank—So I see. Well, perhaps it is where we wanted to be. At any rate, Fairy Tinkle Bell brought us here, when we were trying to find a place in the geography.
Ecila—I never heard of that place.
Frank—I never named any place. How do you know you never heard of it?
Ecila—Why, yes you did, too. You told the country you were journeying in, to find some town. I heard you.
Frank—I did not.
Knarf—Yes, you did. You said you were looking there for this place you wanted.
Alice—Oh, in the geography. A geography isn’t a place. It’s a book about places.
Derf—What’s a book?
Frank—A book? Gee! Don’t you have books here?
Ecila—His name isn’t Gee. It’s Derf.
Alice—That’s a queer name. What’s yours?
Ecila—It’s Ecila. What’s yours?
Alice—Mine is Alice. And what’s his name? (looks toward Knarf.)
Ecila—It’s Knarf.
Frank—Oh, Frank. Same as mine.
Knarf—No, not same as yours. It’s not Frank at all. It’s Knarf.
Frank—How do you spell it?
Knarf—Spell it? I don’t know what you mean.
Frank—Well, write it. Here. (Takes small pad of paper and pencil from pocket.)
Knarf—(taking them) What are they for.
Frank—To write with, of course. This way. (Takes them, and writes.) See. F—R—A—N—K. That’s Frank. That’s my name. Write yours.
Knarf—I can’t. I never heard of such a thing. Is Frank the name of that thing now? And haven’t you any name left, at all?
Frank—Well, of all the silly questions. Of course it’s my name just the same. The name of that thing is paper. And if I spell it backward, it’s Knarf, just like yours. I’ve done it for fun, lots of times.
Ecila—(to Alice) Can you separate yourself from your name, that way?
Alice—Can I write it, you mean? Why, yes. (does so.)See! A—L—I—C—E, spells Alice.
Ecila—Could you do mine?
Alice—Why, I guess so. Say it again.
Ecila—It’s Ecila.
Alice—It ought to be E—S—I—L—A. Why, if I spell it with a C instead of an S, it will be Alice backward. Guess this is Topsy Turvy Land all right. What’s your name? (to Derf.)
Ecila—It’s Derf. Do his on the white thing.
Alice—(writing) D—E—R—F. Why, that’s Fred, backward. That’s my little brother’s name.
Ecila—Yes, and that’s my little brother.
Frank—Little brother! He’s a heap bigger than you are.
Knarf—No such thing. It will be a long time before he grows to my size. He’s only three.
Frank—Three. Three what, I wonder? He’s taller than my father.
Ecila—Yourfather must look funny. (to Alice) How old are you? I’m ten.
Alice—Why, so am I, but I’m not nearly so tall. And Frank is twelve.
Ecila—So is Knarf. But he’s bigger than I am, and your brother is smaller than you.
Frank—Well, either I’m dippy, or you are. You say everything topsy turvy.
Knarf—Of course. This is Topsy Turvy Land. How big is your little brother? As small as Derf?
Frank—He’s three, and about so tall. (measures.)
Ecila—So when you say small, or little, you mean big. And your father? He’s not as little as Derf, you say. How little is he?
Derf—My Daddy’s big, real big. Big asthat.(measures.)
Alice—He must be tiny. I’d like to see him.
Knarf—I’ll call him.
Alice—Maybe he’s busy, or perhaps he wouldn’t like to be called just to be looked at.
Knarf—Well, when my own father can’t come when he’s called, or don’t want to be shown off to my friends, I’ll see about it. (calls commandingly.) Dad!
Alice—Why, we say that, sometimes. Oh, I see, it’s the same both ways.
Dad—(running in) Did you call me,Knarf?
Knarf—Yes, I wanted to show you to these—children, they say they are—just our ages.
Dad—(staring) Your ages? They’re awful big.
Ecila—(sternly) Take off your hat, at once, and stop staring. And making personal remarks, too. That’s three points for Friday. (holds up three fingers.)
Dad—Oh, I forgot, Ecila. I beg your pardon. Please excuse me this time.
Knarf—No indeed. And before company, too.
Dad—But—
Knarf—Answering back, too. Be quiet, sir. That’s four for Friday.
Derf—He sweared, I fink, under his breff. I sawn his lips a-movin’.
Knarf—That’s six for Friday.
Ecila—Where’s Mom?
Dad—I don’t know. Dressing her doll, I think.
Ecila—(calling) Mom! Mom!
(Mom comes running in, doll in hand.)
Mom—What is it? Oh! (drops courtesy.) Happy to see you.
Ecila—You see, I have her well trained. Does your mother mind as quick?
Alice—My mother? I have to mind her; she doesn’t mind me. But is she really your mother?
Ecila—Of course. She wouldn’t mind anyone else as quick, would she? (Mom goes to Dad, who still looks down, sullenly.)
Mom—What’s the matter, dear?
Knarf—He’s in disgrace. Don’t talk to him. (Mom gives him a comforting pat.)
Derf—Her petted him, her did. One for Fiday.
Ecila—Come away, Mom, at once. (Mom does so.) Show the company what a pretty behaved mother is like, now. Sing for them.
Mom—(hanging head)I’ve got a cold.
Ecila—Nonsense! Stand up at once, and sing. Sing “Loora-laddy.”
(Mom acts like a bashful little girl. Ecila shakes her, and she begins to cry.)
Frank—Don’t make her show off. I know how she feels, I hate it awfully, myself, don’t you?
Ecila—Why, I don’t know. I never tried. I’m not big enough yet. (to Mom) Come, sing! Sing up, now, at once. There’s a lot piling up for Friday.
(Mom sings between sobs, “Loora-laddy, loora-laddy” over and over, a number of times. There should be no particular tune, and no attempt at time. She should end in the middle of a syllable, on some note least fitted for an end.)
Knarf—There! Next time do as you’re told. One for Friday for crying. Now, Dad, you whistle.
Derf—Oh, Mom made a face, her did. One for Fiday.
(Dad begins to whistle,loudly, but not tunefully. He should whistle in jerks, and keep time with his hands, in some absurd way.)
Frank—(to Dad) Are you their father, really?
Dad—Of course. You think I mind ’cause I like it, do you?
Ecila—(to Alice) Have you a Marg.
Alice—A Marg. What’s that?
Ecila—Why, my Marg was Dad’s mother. Some children have two. Have you any?
Alice—Oh, I see! A grandmother! We do call ours Gram. She likes it. You don’t make her mind, do you?
Ecila—Of course. (calls.) Marg! Marg! Where in Topsy Turvydom is she? Mom, go find her.
Derf—I’ll find her. (goes out.)
Knarf—Do you mind your father, truly?
Frank—Of course. I have to.
Knarf—Don’t you like to? Then what makes you?
Frank—He does. No. I don’t always like to, but I like it better than I should treating him that way.
Knarf—How funny. (Derf comes in, pulling Marg behind him. She holds back and struggles, but he pulls her along.)
Derf—Her was a playin’ blocks, and her wouldn’t come. Her’s a naughty, naughty Marg. Two, fee, for Fiday.
Ecila—Naughty Marg! She must come when Ecila calls her. Come here. (Marg hangs back, and Ecila picks her up, shakes her a bit, then puts her down. Marg sinks down in a heap, crying loudly.)
Derf—Dere’ll be a lot of fees for Fiday, if her don’t stop ’at noise.
(Marg cries harder. Knarf sidles up, and surreptitiously passes her a piece of candy. She stops crying at once. Ecila spies candy.)
Ecila—Now Knarf, you shouldn’t spoil her that way! (to Marg) Only good Margs ought to have candy. Naughty Margs don’t deserve any.
Marg—I’d give you some, Girl, but it’s all gone. Are you cross to your Marg? Do you always make her mind quick?
Frank—Of course not. Our dear Gram does as she pleases, and we all try to please her.
Marg—Why, how nice! Is she as tall as I am?
Ecila—She’s as tall as Knarf.
Marg—And a Marg! How very strange!
Knarf—Don’t talk so much, Marg. Grown-ups should be seen and not heard.
Derf—It’s Fiday, it’s Fiday. Here comes the Spankety Man! (Dad and Mom look wildly around. Marg hides behind Alice.)
Frank—It isn’t Friday, either. It’s Wednesday.
Derf—’Tis Fiday. Spankety Man’s a-coming.
Alice—But it was Wednesday a few minutes ago, and we haven’t been to bed yet.
Ecila—What’s that got to do with it?
Alice—Why, it’s got to be night before it’s another day, hasn’t it?
Ecila—Not in Topsy Turvy Land. What a strange country you must live in! Here we jumble our days up more. We don’t go by rules; we hate them. We have a lot of days together, and then, when we get sleepy enough, we have a few nights.
Frank—But Thursday has to come before Friday, doesn’t it?
Knarf—Why should it have to? Things don’t go by rule here. And it is Friday, for here comes the Spankety Man.
(Spankety Man enters, sets down bag, and takes out an assortment of spankers, which he lays out on the floor.)
Spankety Man—(to Frank) Good Friday, Sir. I believe we haven’t met before. Any parents or grand-parents?
Frank—Yes.
Spankety Man—Spanking done every Friday. One spank for each point. Settlement every New Year’s Day, at so much a hundred. Discount for specially naughty ones. Want to open an account?
Frank—No.
Alice—We wouldn’t want Papa and Mamma spanked; nor Gram, either. The idea!
Spankety Man—You’ll spoil’em, Ma’am, spoil’em. Better patronize me. It’s necessary, I assure you.
Alice—No, indeed.
Derf—Tum, sing your song, and get to work. Marg’s awful bad.
Spankety Man(sings) Tune: “Michael Roy.” (He beats time, and otherwise emphasizes his song, with one of his spankers.)
Oh, every Friday in there stalksThe Spankety, Spankety Man.To every single house he walks,The Spankety, Spankety Man.He carries his bag where’er he goes,A-dangling from his hand.It holds every kind of spanker knownIn Topsy Turvy Land.
Oh, every Friday in there stalksThe Spankety, Spankety Man.To every single house he walks,The Spankety, Spankety Man.He carries his bag where’er he goes,A-dangling from his hand.It holds every kind of spanker knownIn Topsy Turvy Land.
Oh, every Friday in there stalksThe Spankety, Spankety Man.To every single house he walks,The Spankety, Spankety Man.He carries his bag where’er he goes,A-dangling from his hand.It holds every kind of spanker knownIn Topsy Turvy Land.
Oh, every Friday in there stalks
The Spankety, Spankety Man.
To every single house he walks,
The Spankety, Spankety Man.
He carries his bag where’er he goes,
A-dangling from his hand.
It holds every kind of spanker known
In Topsy Turvy Land.
Chorus.
For oh, sing ho!For the Spankety, Spankety Man!Bring out your naughty Dads and Moms,To the Spankety, Spankety Man.He lives far away by the crimson sea,The Spankety, Spankety Man.In a little red house by a whip-whop tree,The Spankety, Spankety Man.He gathers the whips and dries them well,With all the sting left in.And the spankers, too, that grow on the hill,Are gathered and dried by him.
For oh, sing ho!For the Spankety, Spankety Man!Bring out your naughty Dads and Moms,To the Spankety, Spankety Man.He lives far away by the crimson sea,The Spankety, Spankety Man.In a little red house by a whip-whop tree,The Spankety, Spankety Man.He gathers the whips and dries them well,With all the sting left in.And the spankers, too, that grow on the hill,Are gathered and dried by him.
For oh, sing ho!For the Spankety, Spankety Man!Bring out your naughty Dads and Moms,To the Spankety, Spankety Man.He lives far away by the crimson sea,The Spankety, Spankety Man.In a little red house by a whip-whop tree,The Spankety, Spankety Man.He gathers the whips and dries them well,With all the sting left in.And the spankers, too, that grow on the hill,Are gathered and dried by him.
For oh, sing ho!
For the Spankety, Spankety Man!
Bring out your naughty Dads and Moms,
To the Spankety, Spankety Man.
He lives far away by the crimson sea,
The Spankety, Spankety Man.
In a little red house by a whip-whop tree,
The Spankety, Spankety Man.
He gathers the whips and dries them well,
With all the sting left in.
And the spankers, too, that grow on the hill,
Are gathered and dried by him.
Alice—I think you’re horrid!
Spankety Man—Ma’am?
Alice—I said I think you’re horrid.
Spankety Man—I only do my duty, Ma’am, and earn an honest living. You wouldn’t want to have to do all your own spanking, would you?
Alice—I don’t believe in spanking, at all.
Spankety Man—Oh, if you’re an unbeliever, it’s no use to argue, but “Spare the spanks and spoil the Dads” is a true maxim, just the same. Well, we’ll begin with Marg, as usual. How many points? And which spanker?
(Ecila takes a watch from her pocket, and Derf picks out a spanker.)
Derf—Dis one.
Ecila—Seventy-two, I’m sorry to say. Come, Marg. Why, where is she?
Alice—You shan’t spank that dear little grandmother. The idea!
Spankety Man—Business is business, Ma’am. Please step aside.
Alice—I shan’t. You shan’t touch her.
Frank—(stepping to her side) No indeed, you sha’nt. Let her alone. (All gather around them, and Dad and Mom seize the opportunity to sneak off platform, encouraged by nods and gestures from Frank.)
Spankety Man—Will you move aside?
Alice—No.
Spankety Man—Then it will have to be postponed till next Friday, for here comes the Teacher.
Frank—I’m glad of it. She’ll make you behave.
Knarf—No, she won’t.She’sahe, andwemakehimbehave. (to Spankety Man) Get your ruler ready.
Alice—(to Marg) Do you know your lessons?
Marg—I don’t have to. I don’t have to ask the questions, nor answer them. The children ask them and the Teacher answers them. If he misses, he’s punished.
Frank—Just as I’ve always wished it might be. I’ll ask the first one.
Knarf—You may. You’re company. (Enter Teacher, looking worried.)
Knarf—Begin. Ask him one.
Frank—What’s the capital of Massachusetts?
(Teacher stares at him in astonishment.)
Spankety Man—-Oh, I say, that isn’t fair. You must ask questions that mean something.
Frank—Why, I did.
Teacher—Then two of the words were in a foreign language. I’m the Common Teacher. Foreign languages come in High.
Frank—Well, I had to learn it, and a lot more like it.
Ecila—You ask one. Ask a fair one.
Alice—How much are two and two?
Teacher—Twenty-two.
Knarf—Right. Where did these children come from?
Teacher—From—from—from the farthest dominions of Topsy Turvy Land, I should say.
Knarf—(to Frank) Is that right?
Frank—Why, no. We came from—(Give name of town and State where play is being given.)
Teacher—There’s no such place.
Frank—There is, too. It’s in the United States of America.
Teacher—There’s no such place as that, either.
Alice—Why, everyone knows the United States, all over the earth.
Spankety Man—Did you come from the earth?
Frank—Of course. Did you think we came from Mars?
Teacher—No, for this is Mars. But it isn’t fair to ask me questions about the Earth. All our most learned men have been able to discover about the earth is that it is a very slow-moving, dull star which turns on itself once every month or two, and takes about a century to get around the sun. The winters are so long and cold that no life is possible. It is supposed to be a worn out planet.
Frank—The idea! It’s every bit wrong.
Ecila—Keep points, Mr. Spankety Man. (to Teacher) How did they get here?
Teacher—I don’t know.
Derf—Him don’t know. Dat’s five points, or fee, which is it? It’s my turn. What’s the biggest nanimal in Topsy Turvy Land?
Teacher—The Wincheopactylus. He is very large and fierce, and lives on new inhabitants, whom he eats raw. His voice is a high trill, and he gives warning of his presence—
Knarf—He certainly does. There’s one coming now. Run, everybody, run!
(All run out, in confusion, with screams and cries, dragging Frank and Alice with them. If a tiny dog, or large cat, can be made to walk across the stage after them, it will add to the climax of the scene.)
CURTAIN.