Merry Christmas, world.

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas!

Give me another one.

John, we've been up for hours.

What have you been writing?

Oh, I got carried away with our delicious revenge play last night.

Poison.

No, no poison.

It's Christmas.

Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents.

It's so dreadful being poor.

It's not fair.

How come some girls get to have lots of pretty things and others have nothing at all?

At least be a father and mother in detail.

We haven't got father and we won't have him for as long as this war drags on.

I wish I had heaps of money and plenty of servants so I never had to work again.

Well, you could be a proper actress on the boards.

We aren't all fallen women.

I can't be an actress.

I have lots of wishes, but my favorite one is to be an artist in Paris and to do fine pictures and to be the best painter in the world.

That's what you want, too, isn't it?

Joe, to be a famous writer.

Yes, but it sounds so crass when she says it.

Why be ashamed of what you want?

I wish to have us all to be together with father and mother in this house.

That's what I want.

Beth is perfect.

What about your music, Queen Beth?

I only do that for us.

I don't need anyone else to hear it.

You must not limit yourself.

Mother proposed not having any Christmas presents this year because our men are suffering in the army.

We can't do much, but we can make our little sacrifices and do it gladly.

Don't play mother just because she's not home.

Joe, that's so boyish.

That's why I do it.

Well, I detest rude and ladylike girls.

Well, I hate effective relationships.

Joe!

I know you don't care what I think, but you don't want your mother to find you like this, do you?

Of course we care what you think, Hannah.

You're more family than wicked old Aunt Marge.

Oh, don't, Joe.

Where is Marvy?

I'm starving.

Goodness only knows, some poor creature came a-beggin'.

Your mom set straight off to see what was needed.

I wish you could help other people at a time convenient to us.

Joanna and I are very hungry.

Dogs don't get hungry, Beth.

I've rewritten the climax, and we need to set it to memory.

Amy, get the costumes.

I have made the most divine crown, and I painted my old shoes blue so she looks like a princess.

I think the melancholy beast I figured out is pretty good.

Meg, wait until you see this new speech.

I don't see how you can write such splendid things, Joe.

You're a regular Shakespeare.

Well, not quite.

All right, Miss Michelangelo, can you please rehearse the fainting scene?

You're as stiff as a poker in that.

I can't help it.

I never saw anyone faint before, and I don't intend to make myself all black and blue.

If I can fall down easily, I'll drop.

And if I cannot, I shall fall gracefully into a chair, and I don't care if Hugo comes at me with a pistol.

Hannah.

I'm not acting.

Well, I didn't even say anything.

I knew what you were going to say, and I'm not acting.

Well, if you haven't met him, and I think when it's like a bed, I wouldn't know.

I think it's a shirt.

Well, this is good.

It's going to be your seal, and you'll look directly at me.

Merry Christmas, girls.

Oh, Marnie!

Oh, Merry Christmas.

I'm so glad to see you.

Joe, you look tired.

Were you up again all night writing?

Of course.

Amy, come kiss me.

Thank you.

Merry Christmas.

How are my girls?

So hungry.

Look at this breakfast.

I could eat a horse.

Don't say that, Joe.

What?

What is it?

Not far from here lives a poor young woman, Mrs. Hummel.

Her five children are in one bed to keep from freezing, and there's nothing to eat.

My girls, will you give them your breakfast as a Christmas present?

Is this where you say that Father would want us to?

Yes.

Thank you.

And thank you, Mr. Lawrence, for including me.

You're welcome.

Perhaps you could tutor my grandson in manners as well as mathematics.

Thanks. My God, it is good angels.

Hello.

I'm back.

You have food, and blankets, and sweaters, and you brought some medicine.

These are my girls.

Say hello.

Say hello.

Here's my boy.

Girls, why don't you unpack the food?

It's nice.

Do you want one?

Yes.

Here, take one.

It's good.

Sweet.

That's nice.

You'll need it.

It's so much better.

Is it fairies?

Santa Claus.

No, it's Old Aunt Marge.

Mr. Lawrence sent it?

Lawrence plays grandfather?

Yes.

Why?

He saw you giving your Christmas breakfast away, and he wanted you to enjoy the day.

But I thought he was a mean old man.

So generous of him.

His grandson, Laurie, put the idea into his head.

I know he did.

We should make friends with him.

Boys scare me, and that big old house scares me.

Jenny Snow says that Mr. Lawrence disowned his son after he went off with an Italian woman, and now his grandson is an orphan, and he spends all of his time in that house locked up with his tutor.

He's a very kind man.

He lost his little girl when she was only a child.

And now his son as well.

His daughter died?

That's so sad.

But doesn't Laurie just seem so romantic?

He's half Italian.

No, no, no.

You barely even spoke to him.

Ow!

I'm not responsible for this feast, but I have got a surprise.

She called me a little father!

Don't mind, I wish I could go.

Oh, Joe, we can't keep up our only brother.

He must be so disagreeable to sleep in a tent.

Joe sits in the back so he can't see or cry.

Ow!

So what if I do?

Will he be coming home?

He'll stay and work faithfully as long as he can, and we won't ask for him to come back a minute sooner than he can be spared.

Give them all my dear love and a kiss.

Tell them I think of them by day, pray for them by night, and find my best comforts in their affection at all times.

A year seems a very long time to wait before I see them, but remind them that while we wait, we may all work so these hard days need not be wasted.

I know that they will be loving children to you, do their duty faithfully, fight their enemies bravely, and conquer themselves so beautifully.

The Witch's Curse, a play by Joe March.

Make it sweet and swift and strong.

That when I come back to them, Answer now my song.

I may be fonder and prouder than ever of my little women.

Bravo!

you