With Good Resolutions quite close to my side, And sweet little Hope with me whate'er betide, I bring Father Christmas the bright golden keys That will open my door '98 with ease.

_Hope and Good Resolutions (together)_: Good cheer, Mother Goose!

Father Christmas, good cheer! We wish each and all of you happy New Year!

(Happy New Year and her children group themselves next to Thanksgiving. Enter Santa Claus, bustling about and shaking hands with everybody while speaking.)

_Santa Claus_:

What ho, Father Christmas! What ho, Mother Goose!

At last from my Christmas-eve duties I'm loose.

Not a stocking from north pole to south but I've filled, Books, candies, and toys by each mantlepiece spilled.

My pack is quite empty, my reindeer done out, But on Christmas morning there'll be such a shout From the east to the west, from the south to the north, When their gifts from their stockings the children pull forth, That it's worth all my trouble--that hearty good cheer, "Hurrah! In the night Santa Claus has been here!"

But, folks, I am hungry, I freely confess, So on to the dining-room now I will press.

Roast turkey and cranberry sauce and mince pie Are there on the table, I saw pa.s.sing by.

_Father Christmas_:

Now Santa has come, let the banquet be shared That for our reunion I've ordered prepared.

To the dining-room we will adjourn, Mother Goose; _(Takes her arm)_ Come, all the rest, follow--I'll take no excuse.

Santa Claus, lead Thanksgiving; Jack, Happy New Year; Away now, my friends, to our good Christmas cheer!

(All go out, two by two, singing the following stanza to the air of "Upidee.")

_All together_:

Come to the Christmas feast so gay, Tra la la, tra la la; Good Father Christmas leads the way, Tra la la, la la.

Come, children, he'll "take no excuse;"

Come, follow him and Mother Goose.

Merry, merry Christmas, all!

Christmas gay, happy day!

Merry, merry Christmas, all, Merry Christmas day.

=Christmas Waits.=

By KATHERINE WEST.

(Dress four boys, or six, in a quaint costume,--full knee-breeches, low shoes with bright buckles, tunic or doublet with white frills at the throat and wrist; a short full cape hanging from the shoulders, and soft caps with plumes. Old garments may be re-arranged to give a picturesque effect, or some new, inexpensive material bought. Each boy should have a voice of pleasing quality, and be taught the Christmas song perfectly.

Arrange a frame like a window cas.e.m.e.nt at the back of the platform a little to one side. Behind this let a light burn dimly until a signal is given for full illumination. If practicable, leave the rest of the stage and audience-room in darkness.

The boys begin to sing behind closed doors, and are heard coming nearer singing the first verse of "On this Happy Birthday." They enter and approach the centre of the platform.

The cas.e.m.e.nt is thrown open and half a dozen children's heads appear. There is a clapping of hands till the second verse is begun by the waits. At the last line the children throw out pennies and candies wrapped in paper. The singers scramble for them, and then give the third verse of the carol. The fourth verse may be sung as the boys move away and disappear in the distance. As a preliminary to this little performance a few words may be said about the old English custom of the waits coming to sing under the windows on Christmas eve.)

=On This Happy Birthday.=

By Mrs. CHARLOTTE B. MERRITT. Mrs. SARAH L. WARNER.

[Ill.u.s.tration: sheet music]

1.

On this happy Birthday Of our Saviour King, Come, dear little children, Sweetly let us sing Of the Christ Child; Of the Christ Child, We will glad-ly sing.

2.

Bethlehem's star is shining, Ho-ly is its ray, To the world proclaiming Christ was born to-day.

Of the Christ Child, Of the Christ Child, We will glad-ly sing.

3.

Wise men came to worship, Wise men from a-far, Guided by the glo-ry Of that ho-ly star.

Of the Christ Child, Of the Christ Child, We will glad-ly sing.

4.

Now He reigns forever.

Loving you and me; Joyful, let as praise Him Round our Christmas tree.

To the Christ Child, To the Christ Child, We our tribute bring.

=A Christmas Party.=

By LIZZIE M. HADLEY.

(CHARACTERS: _1897_, a bent and feeble old man with skull-cap and white beard, leaning on a cane. The number 1897 across his forehead or breast. _South Wind_, a slender brunette in veil, mantle, and cape of green cheese cloth, cape belted down in the back. As she enters she flourishes her arms to throw out veil and cape. _Messenger_, in lettered uniform. Four _Heralds_, uniformed somewhat like messenger. Nine _Fairies_, very small girls. Coronets of silver paper. Flowing robes of cheese cloth with angel sleeves worn over clothing sufficiently warm for the season. Colors to present the plants whose leaves they carry. Silver belts, shoe-buckles, and necklaces. Leaves cut from green paper, and letters from gilt.

_Kriss Kringle, Santa Claus, St. Nicholas, Knight Rupert_, and _Babousca_ in appropriate costumes. Nine _Children_, in ordinary clothes. _North Wind, East Wind_, and _West Wind_ in costumes similar to _South Wind_, but varying in color,--white for north, blue for east, and red for west. The Winds stand behind St. Nicholas and keep up a restless blowing; that is, a fluttering and ballooning of capes and veils by flourishing arms.)

_1897_: I'm growing old and feeble, So much excitement's wrong; Folks should have had their Christmas When I was young and strong.

Instead of that, they take it When I really ought to rest.

My last days should be peaceful But--Father Time knows best

And now I must be stirring, And call for Santa Claus; I almost dread his coming, There's always such a noise.

The winds shall be my heralds-- Come, North Wind, where are you?

Just whisper to old Santa That here he'll soon be due.

Now while I am about it, Perhaps it would be best To call that windy herald Whose home is in the west.

(_Enter South Wind_) Here comes my daughter, South Wind.

_South Wind_: I'm almost out of breath, I really fear the North Wind Intends to be my death.

_1897_: I'll bid him treat you kindly; He should not be so rough; He's getting much too boisterous, I know that well enough.

You're all here now but East Wind I'll call for him again.