ACTI.
Street in Sandbach
Note: When the curtain rises Santa Claus is busy arranging toys in shop window, lighting candles and doing such other stage work as will enliven the scene.
No lines are spoken until Crispin and Maggie come upon the scene, the idea being to portray the various types of folk one would expect to find upon the street—the types can be many or few, fishmongers, washwomen, laborers, children, musicians, teamsters returning from work, street arabs, etc. Some of these enter the shop and buy, others, like Crispin and Maggie, must be content with looking in. These characters should enter alternately from right and left stage.
(Enter Crispin.) Note: Boy enters right stage.
(Enter Maggie. After one-half minute girl follows, enters left stage. They both walk slowly up stage to window of the toy shop, keeping as far apart as is possible. Both are interested only in the window display, and for some time neither of them speak.)
Maggie: Hello!
Crispin: (After pause) ’lo!
(Another silence)
Maggie: D’jer live ’ere?
Crispin: Naw.
Maggie: Neither do I. (Pause). Wot’s yer name?
Crispin: Der gang calls me Cris, but in ’igh sasiety dey calls me Crispin.
(After pause)
Wot’s yore name?
Maggie: W’en I call on the queen my name is Maggie, but the folk in our alley call me Mag.
Crispin: Wot yer hidin’ under yer apron?
Maggie: A apple.
Crispin: We’re d’jer swipe it?
Maggie: I didn’t swipe it, smarty, an old guv’ner gave it to me for running an errand for ’im.
Crispin: Is that all ’e guv yer?
Maggie: Isn’t that enough—wot yer want a guy to guv yer—a sixpence fer doin’ nuthin’—an’ besides, he wor a nice ol’ gentleman.
Crispin: How d’jer know—was ’e a friend of yer feyther?
Maggie: Naw, smarty, ’e was no friend of my fambly, I never seen ’im before tonight—but I know ’e is a nice man—he said such nice things to me.
Crispin: Wot d’jer mean by nice things—I never seed any on ’em knockin’ around our alley.
Maggie: Well—w’en I got back to ’im he smiled and said, “Thank yer, mi dear, and ’eres a apple fer yer, and I wish yer a Merry Christmas.”
Crispin: (H)excuse me, Mag, fer takin’ liberties with yer name on such a short acquaintance, but I ’ave to laff w’en I ’ear of these rich guys wishin’ the likes of us a ’appy Christmas, and doin’ nuthin’ to ’elp make their wish come true.—Now if yer kind benefactor ’ad said, “Here’s a ten-pound note—go and get yerself some warm clothes to cover yer ’arf-naked body, and some food to fill yer empty stomach, and get fer yerself one o’ them golden-’aired dollys wot shut their eyes, and say, ‘Mamma’ when yer punch ’em in their breadbasket,” I could feel he were sincere in his good wishes for yer.
Maggie: Now, Cris, yer mustn’t run on like that, it isn’t fair—some of these rich folk never had the chances you and me ’ave ’ad—and so I say, clothes, or no clothes, food, or no food, blue-eyed sleepin’, squawkin’ dollies, or no dollies, I’m glad fer the progress some on ’em ’ave made. Perhaps some day they will learn that true Christmas ’appinessbeginsinwell wishingandendsinwell doing. Until then we must be content inlookin’at the things which belong to others, just as we ’ave been doin’ before this winder fer the last ’arf ’our.
(At this point the clock in the steeple strikes five.)
Crispin: Gee, I must be going.
Maggie: So must I, Cris—but before we part I want to wish yer a Merry Christmas.
(Both start to walk away in opposite directions, but before leaving the stage Maggie stops.)
Maggie: Say, Cris, just a minute—’ave yer a jack knife in yer pocket?
(Cris searches his pockets—fishes out a rather dilapidated knife—opens it, and hands it to Maggie, who cuts apple in half—returns knife to Cris.)
Maggie: And ter make my wish come true, Cris—’er’s the ’alf of my apple.
(Both leave the stage, joyfully eating the apple and grinning from ear to ear.)
(Exit Maggie, Right.)
(Exit Crispin, Left.)
(Lamplighter. Enter right, lights street lamp and exit left.)
(Washerwoman. Enter left, carrying basket of wash.)
(Fishmonger. Enter right—Fresh herrin’, all alive, all alive, all alive. Herrin’, fresh herrin’, twelve fer a shillin’. Note: As she passes the shop of Santa Claus, Mrs. Claus opens shop door.)
Mrs. Claus: Are you sure yer herrin’ are fresh?
Fishmonger: Mi lady, so ’elp me, they were swimmin’ in the sea this very mornin’.
Mrs. Claus: Wot are yer askin’ fer ’em?
Fishmonger: O’ny a shillin’ a dozen, lady.
Mrs. Claus: That’s wot I call dear for herrin’. Make it nine-pence and I’ll take a dozen.
Fishmonger: No, ma’am, not if I never sell ’em (walks away.) Fresh herrin’, herrin’, herrin’, herrin’, all alive, all alive, (suddenly turns again.) Well, missus, seeing as I on’y have a few left, ’ere yer are, tak ’em at yer own price. Counts out herring and exit.
(At this point Santa Claus locks up his shop for the night, puts up shutters in front of windows and returns into shop.)
(Musician. Enter right, carrying bass viol.)
(Night Watchman: Enter left, eight o’clock and all’s well. Exit right. Note by this time the village streets are nearly deserted.)
(Enter Ethel. Enter Harold. Immediately following exit of Watchman after his 8 o’clock round, Harold and Ethel enter from left stage—Harold is leading Ethel by the hand. They look around from one side of the street to the other, which at this time is deserted.)
Ethel: I don’t believe Santa lives here.
Harold: Neither do I—I expect he lives in a big house, like the Earl of Crewe.
Ethel: I am beginning to think we shall not find Santa at all.
Harold: Oh, yes, sis, we will find him—don’t get discouraged.
Ethel: But you are forgetting it is nearly time for him to start out on his long journey.
Harold: I have not forgotten that, but I am thinking that it takes a big factory to hold all the toys Santa has made since last year.
Ethel: Yes, but I don’t see any big factory here, do you?
Harold: Look! Look! Ethel, I believe we have found it—see that sign over the shop window, it says S. CLAUS, TOYMAKER.
Ethel: Yes, and the shutters are up—that’s because Santa doesn’t want anyone to see him at work.
Harold: Let us go and knock on the door and see if Santa will answer.
Ethel: No, I am a little bit afraid. You go.
(While the children are hesitating about what ought to be done, Mr. S. Claus leaves the place and starts to walk away rapidly. Just then, the children turn and catch sight of him.)
Harold: See, Ethel, there he goes—Come, let us follow him.
(Both children leave the stage, shouting, “Santa, Santa, wait a minute, please, Santa, wait.”)
(ExitHarold and Ethel.)
(Enter Towncrier from right stage.)
(First time off stage—Second time on stage—Crier takes center stage, rings bell vigorously, takes position with bell reposing in left arm, with right hand clutching tongue of bell.)
Town Crier: Lost, strayed or stolen, a ten-year-old boy and his young sister—the children of our fellow townsman, Mr. Alphonso Cruickshank, Ironmonger and Tinker, of Number 12, High Street, Sandbach. When last seen, the children were walking in the direction of Congleton Road, but beyond this their whereabouts are unknown. A reward of 50 guineas in gold will be paid to any person, or persons, who, finding the children, shall safely return them to their bereaved parents.
(Exit Crier.)
(Watchman in distance is heard calling, “Nine o’clock and all’s well.” The village clock strikes the hour and the chimes sweetly play.)
(Enter Clews, right, who saunters across stage and returns, taking position under lamp, when chimes are ended.)
(Enter Allcock, left, carrying bundle.)
Clews: Good evenin’, mate, w’ere ’as thi bin, I’ve been waitin’ on thi fur the last ’our.
Allcock: I dunna wonder at thi askin’ w’ere I’ve been. This’ll be the first toime in the last twel’ yer that I’ve missed bein’ at the Black Bear on Christmas eve. But that is ner the on’y thing I’ve missed, so I must ’asten ’ome and get a bite o’ summat to eat.
Clews: Does ta mean to tell me thi ’asn’t ’ad thi supper yet?
Allcock: I conna speak no plainer than w’at I sed a minit ago.
Clews: But w’at kept thi away from ’ome so long—Surely not the love of thi work?
Allcock: No, ’ardly that, but thi knows ’ow it is hup at the ’all—an’ ’ow they fixes hup everythin’ fur the big party they’re ’avin come ter-morrer—I dunno wat they would a dun if I’d a quit on ’em.
Clews: I ’no wat thi means, mate, I’ve thought miself wot a ’elpless lot some folk are.
Allcock: Aye, all I ’eard ter-day was, “Willyum, ’ave yer killed an’ dressed the sucking pigs—Willyum, ’ave yer finished plucking the geese—Willyum, will yer be sure there are yule logs on ’and fer the party—Willyum, go down to the butchers and bring the roast of beef I ordered—William, this, and Willyum that,” until I’m sick and tired o’ mi own name.
But they’re not a bad lot at that for the mester gave me a Christmas box o’ ten shilling’ an’ I ’ave in this bundle some clothes wot belonged to the little gel w’at died a year ago come Michaelmas, an’ a bran new dress w’ich the missus sent to mi owd woman.
Clews: Mite it be yer ’ad a goose in yer bundle fer yer Christmas dinner, as well as the fine feathers fer the missus?
Allcock: No, Jack, but you ’no and I ’no w’ere there is as fine a dinner waitin’ fer them as knows, as ever come out o’ a pot—and yer ’ave ’eard tell as ’ow the first thing to be dun in makin’ rabbit pie is to first catch the rabbit.
Clews: I understand, Willyum—Make it ten by the clock—at the old place back of the ’all.
Allcock: So long, mate.
Clews: So long.
(Exit Poachers.)
(Enter Carolers.)
(Exit Carolers.)
Curtain
Note: It is very effective when the carolers can conveniently sing for the first time off stage, as if in the distance. The carolers should be appropriately dressed for cold weather, carry lanterns and the stage should be darkened.