Select the desired text size
The Christmas masquerade by MARY E. WILKINS FREEMAN
From The Children's Book of Christmas Stories
Start of Story
The children all went to bed readily enough, they were so very
tired, even though they had to go in this strange array. All but the
fairies--they danced and pirouetted and would not be still.
"We want to swing on the blades of grass," they kept saying, "and play
hide and seek in the lily cups, and take a nap between the leaves of the
The poor charwomen and coal-heavers, whose children the fairies were for
the most part, stared at them in great distress. They did not know
what to do with these radiant, frisky little creatures into which their
Johnnys and their Pollys and Betseys were so suddenly transformed. But
the fairies went to bed quietly enough when daylight came, and were soon
There was no further trouble till twelve o'clock, when all the children
woke up. Then a great wave of alarm spread over the city. Not one of the
costumes would come off then. The buttons buttoned as fast as they were
unbuttoned; the pins quilted themselves in as fast as they were pulled
out; and the strings flew round like lightning and twisted themselves
into bow-knots as fast as they were untied.
And that was not the worst of it; every one of the children seemed to
have become, in reality, the character which he or she had assumed.
The Mayor's daughter declared she was going to tend her geese out in the
pasture, and the shepherdesses sprang out of their little beds of down,
throwing aside their silken quilts, and cried that they must go out and
watch their sheep. The princesses jumped up from their straw pallets,
and wanted to go to court; and all the rest of them likewise. Poor
little Red Riding-hood sobbed and sobbed because she couldn't go
and carry her basket to her grandmother, and as she didn't have any
grandmother she couldn't go, of course, and her parents were very much
doubled. It was all so mysterious and dreadful. The news spread very
rapidly over the city, and soon a great crowd gathered around the new
Costumer's shop for every one thought he must be responsible for all
The shop door was locked; but they soon battered it down with stones.
When they rushed in the Costumer was not there; he had disappeared with
all his wares. Then they did not know what to do. But it was evident
that they must do something before long for the state of affairs was
growing worse and worse.
The Mayor's little daughter braced her back up against the tapestried
wall, and planted her two feet in their thick shoes firmly. "I will go
and tend my geese," she kept crying. "I won't eat my breakfast. I won't
go out in the park. I won't go to school. I'm going to tend my geese--I
will, I will, I will!"
And the princesses trailed their rich trains over the rough unpainted
floors in their parents' poor little huts, and held their crowned heads
very high and demanded to be taken to court. The princesses were mostly
geese-girls when they were their proper selves, and their geese were
suffering, and their poor parents did not know what they were going to
do and they wrung their hands and wept as they gazed on their gorgeously
Finally the Mayor called a meeting of the Aldermen, and they all
assembled in the City Hall. Nearly every one of them had a son or
a daughter who was a chimney-sweep, or a little watch-girl, or a
shepherdess. They appointed a chairman and they took a great many votes
and contrary votes but they did not agree on anything, until every one
proposed that they consult the Wise Woman. Then they all held up their
hands, and voted to, unanimously.
So the whole board of Aldermen set out, walking by twos, with the Mayor
at their head, to consult the Wise Woman. The Aldermen were all very
fleshy, and carried gold-headed canes which they swung very high at
every step. They held their heads well back, and their chins stiff,
and whenever they met common people they sniffed gently. They were very
The Wise Woman lived in a little hut on the outskirts of the city. She
kept a Black Cat, except for her, she was all alone. She was very
old, and had brought up a great many children, and she was considered
But when the Aldermen reached her hut and found her seated by the fire,
holding her Black Cat, a new difficulty presented itself. She had always
been quite deaf and people had been obliged to scream as loud as they
could in order to make her hear; but lately she had grown much deafer,
and when the Aldermen attempted to lay the case before her she could
not hear a word. In fact, she was so very deaf that she could not
distinguish a tone below G-sharp. The Aldermen screamed till they were
quite red in the faces, but all to no purpose: none of them could get up
to G-sharp of course.
So the Aldermen all went back, swinging their gold-headed canes, and
they had another meeting in the City Hall. Then they decided to send the
highest Soprano Singer in the church choir to the Wise Woman; she could
sing up to G-sharp just as easy as not. So the high Soprano Singer set
out for the Wise Woman's in the Mayor's coach, and the Aldermen marched
behind, swinging their gold-headed canes.
The High Soprano Singer put her head down close to the Wise Woman's ear,
and sung all about the Christmas Masquerade and the dreadful dilemma
everybody was in, in G-sharp--she even went higher, sometimes, and the
Wise Woman heard every word.
She nodded three times, and every time she nodded she looked wiser.
"Go home, and give 'em a spoonful of castor-oil, all 'round," she piped
up; then she took a pinch of snuff, and wouldn't say any more.
So the Aldermen went home, and every one took a district and marched
through it, with a servant carrying an immense bowl and spoon, and every
child had to take a dose of castor-oil.
But it didn't do a bit of good. The children cried and struggled when
they were forced to take the castor-oil; but, two minutes afterward,
the chimney-sweeps were crying for their brooms, and the princesses
screaming because they couldn't go to court, and the Mayor's daughter,
who had been given a double dose, cried louder and more sturdily: "I
want to go and tend my geese. I will go and tend my geese."