of Women's Sunday, a mass rally at Hyde Park which demonstrated popular support for the

suffragette movement. These extracts from the original introduce our two main characters,

Kitty and Millicent, and their involvement in the suffragette movement and Women's Sunday.

( music )

(humming)

England is the most conservative country on Earth. Nothing has ever been got out of the

British Parliament without something very nearly approaching a revolution! Mrs Pankhurst

said that, and she should know. Her family have been agitating for female suffrage (that's

votes for women to you and me) for years! In 1906 when the people who could voted the

Liberals in, many men still thought that...

the woman, the cat and the chimney should never leave the house.

But they had been leaving in their thousands! For the mills, the factories, the mines, the

shops, the pubs! Or like me, to work in domestic service. My name's Katherine, but everyone

calls me Kitty. You wouldn't believe what a lady's maid gets to see in here. Take this

votes for women palava. The lady who I work for and most of her friends support the cause,

you know, votes for women. I might not be a marching woman but I play my part. I make

the tea, serve biscuits and I listen. Many of the ladies thought the Liberal government

would listen to them, but all they got on all sides were the same old excuses.

I had never taken much interest in politics. I'd listen in silence as my father and brothers

discussed the Boer War, Kaiser, Russia, it all seemed to far away. But then one day I

read in the Daily Mail about how Christabel Pankhurst was arrested for spitting at a policeman.

It had happened at the Liberal meeting and all she'd done is ask about votes for women

and they'd bundled her out. When she didn't pay the fine, she was thrown into prison.

The papers said the Pankhursts were...

Crazy hooligans, shrieking hysterics! Their policy was wild delirium!

And yet, when I looked at a picture of her in the paper, I saw a young girl just like

me. I had to find out for myself and so, ignoring my father's disapproval and my brothers' laughter,

I decided to go to a meeting of the Women's Social and Political Union at Caxton Hall.

I went straight after work and the hall was packed. There were a number of speakers, a

mill girl from Leeds in her clogs and shawls, but the one I was drawn to was Christabel

Pankhurst. She was absolutely sincere, free of all vanity and pose and everything she

said was so true. About how women were paid less than men for the same work, how the government

took advantage of women, some paid taxes, even rates and yet had no say who was in Parliament.

And yet a man with no education, an imbecile, a drunk, a criminal even might have the vote.

It was common sense really. But it struck me to the heart and I decided then and there

that this would be my cause.

And so I joined the movement. Oh, my name's Millicent. Millicent Willoughby.

What with working all hours and only getting one Sunday afternoon a fortnight off, I didn't

get much chance of public meetings. Besides, I preferred the music hall. That's where my

mother and father worked, and met. But I have tea for all the Pankhursts. Oh, and the mill

girl, Annie Kenney! You see, votes for women wasn't just for your educated ladies in their

furs and finery. It gave a voice to all women, regardless of class.

In 1908, I too became a marching woman! Well... sort of. On me Sunday afternoon off.

It had taken months and months of planning. Women's Sunday was going to be the greatest

demonstration of suffragettes ever and would show the government how the vast majority

of people were behind us. Every day after work I would make my way to the headquarters

in Clements Inn and join in with the hustle and bustle of typing handbills, flyers, programmes,

tickets, it went on and on. And when we weren't doing that we went to hospitals, shops, restaurants,

factories, wherever people gathered to spread the news. Come to Hyde Park. Bring your family.

Tell your friends.

In Knightsbridge as the day came close the ladies became more and more excited. Seven

processions to march to the park. Twenty platforms for the eighty speakers. And everyone reminded

the women to wear the colours.

Purple, white, green. Justice, purity, hope. With two weeks to go we rode about on gaily

decorated bicycles, criss-crossing through suburbs, handing out leaflets and programmes.

I was at a variety theatre and there was a special cinematographic advertisement inviting

people to join the meeting.

Three days to go and the launch sailed up the Thames towards the House of Commons. As

a brass band played, a banner ws unfurled. Women's Sunday. June 21st. Cabinet Ministers

specially invited!

The night before the meeting, the house in Knightsbridge was full to overflowing with

lady guests. I don't think anyone slept a wink that night.

June 21st at last and a beautful summer's day. In the morning it was my job to meet

the women arriving at St Pancras Station and help them form up for the procession. There

were hundreds of them!

Once m'ladies were on their way, I got me hat and coat! I didn't want to miss anything!

I was told to take a group of cotton mill workers from Lancashire to the park. So off

we set.

They'd taken down some of the railings to let people into Hyde Park as I arrived. For

a moment I caught a glimpse of a huge circle of platforms.

My group arrived right by platform eight and I remembered that's where Christabel Pankhurst

was due to speak. Already there was gathered of rowdy young men and they were shouting,

"We want Chrissie! We want Chrissie! We want Chrissie!" Somebody blew a whistle and two

men pushed the crowd back to start a wrestling match! I went over to try and stop it and

that's when my real trouble began.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a young girl with a sash being pushed like a

football between some rowdies.

I struggled and turned but I couldn't free myself and then I felt a hand pull my skirt!

This poor girl was trapped by the bullies. Well I thought, this is what we're here for,

women's rights! So I gave one of the toughs an almighty clip round the ear and I grabbed

her!

I began to sink and I almost gave up, when suddenly a hand pulled mine and I was free!

You alright, miss? Oh, yes, thank you, a little dizzy.

You should go home miss, you've had a trying time, you should rest.

No! No. I'm fine. I can't leave, I must stay here until five o'clock. I can't leave until

then.

Very well, miss. I'll stand by and keep you company.

And so we waited. The crowds moved around us. And then, from the centre of the park,

a bugle call sang out. It was the signal we had waited for, the signal of the Great Shout.

The noise was like a train passing close by. A rumble of sound that slowly formed the words...

votes for women... votes for women! VOTES FOR WOMEN!

Half a million voices, it was our finest hour. Surely it would only be a matter of time.

1908 was our year; the year of the militants.

(Narrator) 1908 was also the year that the Liberal leader Herbert Asquith became Prime

Minister. An implacable opponent of female suffrage, he refused even to receive a delegation

from the WSPU. Mass arrests, hunger strikes, the Cat and Mouse Act. The militants were

in for a longer struggle than they had hoped. It would take twenty years and a world war

before Parliament came to its senses.

We went up to St Stephen's with petitions, year by year.

Get out, the politicians cried, we want no women here.

MPs behind the railings stood and laughed to see the fun,

As bold policemen knocked us down because we would not run.

For it's woman this and woman that and... Woman, go away!

But it's share and share alike, ma'am, When the taxes are to pay.

We went before the magistrate who would not hear us speak.

To a drunken brute who beat his wife he only gave a week.

But we were sent to Holloway for a calendar month or more,

Because we dared, against his will, to knock at Asquith's door.

For it's woman this and woman that and... Woman, wait outside.

But it's listen to the ladies when it Suits your party's side.

We may not be quite angels, had we been we would have flown.

We are merely human beings with wants much like your own.

And if sometimes our conduct isn't all your fancy paints,

It wasn't man's example could have turned us into saints.

For it's woman here and woman there and Women on the streets,

But it's how they look at women With most men that one meets.

You talk of sanitation and temperence and schools,

You send you male inspectors to impose your man-made rules.

The woman's sphere's the home, you say, then prove it to our face:

Give us the vote so we can make the home a happier place.

For it's woman this and woman that and Woman, say your say.

But it's 'what's the woman up to?' when she Tries to show the way.

When she tries to show the way, my friends, When she tries to show the way.

And the woman means to show it. That is why she's out today.

( music )