PAGE 6
The Peace Egg
by
“I’m not mean,” said Robin, stoutly; “and I don’t tell tales; but you do, and you tell–you know what–besides. However, I won’t go this time; but I’ll tell you what,–if you tell tales of me to papa any more, I’ll tell him what you said about the old gentleman in the blue cloak.” With which parting threat Robin strode off to join his brothers and sister.
Sarah’s tale had put the court-martial out of his head, and he leaned against the tall fender, gazing at his little sister, who was tenderly nursing a well-worn doll. Robin sighed.
“What a long time that doll takes to wear out, Dora!” said he. “When will it be done?”
“Oh, not yet, not yet!” cried Dora, clasping the doll to her, and turning away. “She’s quite good, yet.”
“How miserly you are,” said her brother; “and selfish, too; for you know I can’t have a military funeral till you’ll let me bury that old thing.”
Dora began to cry.
“There you go, crying!” said Robin, impatiently. “Look here: I won’t take it till you get the new one on your birthday. You can’t be so mean as not to let me have it then!”
But Dora’s tears still fell. “I love this one so much,” she sobbed. “I love her better than the new one.”
“You want both; that’s it,” said Robin, angrily. “Dora, you’re the meanest girl I ever knew!”
At which unjust and painful accusation Dora threw herself and her doll upon their faces, and wept bitterly. The eyes of the soft-hearted Nicholas began to fill with tears, and he squatted down before her, looking most dismal. He had a fellow-feeling for her attachment to an old toy, and yet Robin’s will was law to him.
“Couldn’t we make a coffin, and pretend the body was inside?” he suggested.
“No, we couldn’t,” said Robin. “I wouldn’t play the ‘Dead March’ after an empty candle-box. It’s a great shame,–and I promised she should be chaplain in one of my night-gowns, too.”
“Perhaps you’ll get just as fond of the new one,” said Nicholas, turning to Dora.
But Dora only cried, “No, no! He shall have the new one to bury, and I’ll keep my poor, dear, darling Betsey.” And she clasped Betsey tighter than before.
“That’s the meanest thing you’ve said yet,” retorted Robin; “for you know mamma wouldn’t let me bury the new one.” And, with an air of great disgust, he quitted the nursery.
V.
Nicholas had sore work to console his little sister, and Betsey’s prospects were in a very unfavorable state, when a diversion was caused in her favor by a new whim which put the military funeral out of Robin’s head.
After he left the nursery he strolled out of doors, and, peeping through the gate at the end of the drive, he saw a party of boys going through what looked like a military exercise with sticks and a good deal of stamping; but instead of mere words of command, they all spoke by turns, as in a play. In spite of their strong Yorkshire accent, Robin overheard a good deal, and it sounded very fine.
Not being at all shy, he joined them, and asked so many questions that he soon got to know all about it. They were practising a Christmas mumming-play, called “The Peace Egg.” Why it was called that they could not tell him, as there was nothing whatever about eggs in it, and, so far as its being a play of peace, it was made up of a series of battles between certain valiant knights and princes, of whom St. George of England was chief and conqueror. The rehearsal being over, Robin went with the boys to the sexton’s house, (he was father to the “King of Egypt,”) where they showed him the dresses they were to wear. These were made of gay-colored materials, and covered with ribbons, except that of the “Black Prince of Paradine,” which was black, as became his title. The boys also showed him the book from which they learned their parts, and which was to be bought for one penny at the post-office shop.