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  When the cracker was all gone, Charlie went through Mr. Basch’s back door and clambered up the long flight of stairs into the family kitchen. Mama was at the stove. Charlie walked over and said not a word. He just stood and stared up at her.

  Mama was sampling her soup. Charlie could see that her face wore a frown. Without even looking at him, she said, “You back already? Keep away from the stove!”

  All Charlie heard was “keep away!” He turned right around and walked out. Down the stairs he went, back into the store straight to where Mr. Basch was sitting. “My Mama don’t smile on me,” he said cheerlessly.

  Mr. Basch put down his paper. Thoughtfully he stroked his beard. Once again his arm went into the barrel and up came the broken pieces. Mr. Basch examined them carefully. “Chocolate snaps, I think, Charlie.” Again they nibbled away without speaking. Then Mr. Basch said, “I tell you what, Charlie. You go upstairs and tell Mama you’ll be a good boy and see what happens.”

  So once again Charlie went through the door and started the toilsome journey up the staircase and into the kitchen.

  Mama’s work was going very well. She was humming a little tune. Hands on hips she turned around and studied the small boy. All her babies had been adorable, she thought, but this one, he was such a little love of a man. My goodness, such a serious expression on his sweet face. She smiled.

  Charlie rushed into the hall and plodded down the stairs to where he knew Mr. Basch was waiting. “My Mama smiles on me!” he exclaimed. Without waiting for an answer, he about-faced and climbed right up the stairs again.

  Mama found all this coming and going highly amusing. When Charlie planted himself in front of her and gazed questioningly upward, she gave him a great, big smile.

  Down the stairs again went Charlie to his friend Mr. Basch. “My Mama smiles another time!” he cried gleefully.

  “Well, that’s fine, Charlie—very, very fine!” Mr. Basch grinned. Somehow he too felt as lighthearted as the little boy. He nodded his head understandingly as he watched Charlie run through the door again.

  When Charlie came back to Mama, she nearly doubled over with laughter. Charlie ran over and buried his head in her skirts. He felt so good!

  Laughter bubbled up inside him too. He threw back his little head and laughed and laughed and laughed.

  “I WONDER who’ll make a May party this year,” said Gertie.

  “I don’t know. Nobody asked me to join any yet,” Charlotte replied.

  “We ought to make one ourselves,” Henny suggested.

  “That’s a marvelous idea!” Sarah cried enthusiastically. “With Ella in charge, it would be the fanciest May party anybody ever saw!”

  “Thanks,” Ella answered, “but do you realize how much work a May party is?”

  “We could all help,” Sarah said coaxingly.

  “Well—” Ella hesitated. The sisters could tell the idea was catching on. “It would be a lot of fun.”

  Charlotte clapped her hands together. “Oh, Ella, who’ll be the Queen? Who’ll be the Queen of the May?”

  Gertie jumped up and down. “Ooh! I want to be the Queen!”

  “I’m sorry,” Ella told them, “but you’re too little to be Queen, both of you.”

  Their disappointment lasted only a moment, for by now Ella’s imagination was running riot. “Gertie, you could be a little green elf with a peaked cap. And I’ll twist strips of green and brown crepe paper for a belt. You’d be the cutest thing!”

  “If I can’t be Queen, could I be a fairy, Ella?” Charlotte burst in. “With big silver wings on my back? I’d like that!”

  “Yes,” Ella considered. “A silver band on your head, maybe. It would look nice against your brown hair.”

  “I guess Henny ought to be Queen,” Sarah said resignedly. “With her curls and all.”

  “Not me,” Henny replied quickly. “I’m much too grown up. I’ll help Ella with the managing. Why don’t you be the Queen, Sarah?”

  “But maybe one of the other girls who join up will want to be the Queen.”

  “Since we’re making it, I think it’s only fair that somebody in our family should be Queen.”

  “Besides,” Ella continued, “there are all kinds of other wonderful things they could be.”

  And that’s how Sarah got to be Queen of the May.

  The ten days that followed were filled with activity. The children combed the neighborhood. “Want to join our May Party?” they asked friends and relatives. “It costs only ten cents to pay for the costumes.”

  Ella kept strict account of the money that came in, and soon she was able to report that they already had twenty dimes. “Wow!” exclaimed Gertie, “twenty children! And don’t forget there’s us, too!”

  “Yes,” said Ella. “I think that ought to be enough. Let’s not ask anybody else. We’ll have an awful lot to do as it is.”

  Every afternoon, Mama’s kitchen seemed to burst at the seams with children of the neighborhood. Children of all shapes and sizes stopped by for fittings and remained to cut and twist, pin and stitch, color and paste, all under artist Ella’s direction. Crowns and wings and flowers, hats and wands and belts, rapidly came into being. It was just as Mama said, “Many hands make work light.”

  Some of the other mamas pitched in too. Even Lena took to dropping in evenings to lend an expert sewing hand.

  Papa went to work with his carpenter tools and fashioned a Maypole. It had a broomstick handle for the pole and a wooden hoop from a sugar barrel for its wheel-like top. Ella wound strips of white, pink, and blue paper around the pole and criss-crossed them over the hoop. Next many colored streamers and dainty flower rosettes were hung from it. When at last Ella had finished, everyone agreed it was a miracle of loveliness.

  The night before, everything was ready. “There,” Ella said with satisfaction as she twisted the last leaf into the garland of flowers for Queen Sarah’s head. “Try it on, Sarah.” She eyed her thoughtfully. “It doesn’t look right with braids. You’ll have to wear your hair loose tomorrow.”

  “I know,” agreed Sarah. “It has to be loose. If only it was curly like Henny’s,” she added wishfully.

  Lena spoke up. “If Mama says it’s all right, I could make you lovely curls first thing in the morning. I just bought a marvelous curling iron!”

  “But doesn’t it hurt the hair?” Mama asked doubtfully.

  “No. You just have to be a little careful. Don’t worry. I know how to use it. Sarah will have curls just as nice as Henny’s, you’ll see.”

  The eventful day dawned, blue-skied, sunny, and warm. Lena arrived bright and early with the curling iron, and the family gathered around to watch as she went to work. First she lit the gas stove and thrust the long iron into the blue flame. In a few moments she pulled it out, testing its heat by twirling it swiftly in the air. “Now, Sarah,” she cautioned, “stand perfectly still.” Hiss-s-s! the iron steamed as Lena skillfully wound a small bunch of Sarah’s hair over and over up towards the scalp. Sarah held her breath. Would it really make a curl? Now slowly, carefully the hair was being unwound.

  There it was—a long, thick, perfect curl! “Oh, Sarah, it’s just gorgeous!” Charlotte cried. Sarah’s fingers reached up timidly as if fearful that the magic curl would disappear at her touch. It was true! It was real! Round and smooth and shapely. “Oh, Lena! Let’s hurry and do the rest!”

  When it was over, Sarah raced to the bedroom mirror. She stared at herself. Was this stranger Sarah? Slowly she turned her head, studying herself from all angles. Lena put a mirror in her hand so she could see the back of her head as well. It was thrilling to feel the long blonde curls bob against her cheeks, her shoulders, her back! Starry-eyed, she threw her arms around Lena. “Thanks a million, billion times!”

  Henny was mystified. “Such a fuss about curly hair! Wait till tomorrow when it’ll be all tangled up. You won’t be so overjoyed then when you have to comb and brush it out.”

  Right after lunch, Ella jumped up and cl
apped her hands. “Listen, everybody. Now’s the time! Get dressed, and we’ll meet the others downstairs.”

  “That’s right,” Mama approved. “If they all come tramping in here, it’ll be a madhouse.”

  Such a flurry and to-do! But everything went according to plan. Soon the Queen, followed by a dazzling fairy and a quaint elf, was standing impatiently in front of the house. Charlie was there too, dressed as a small Uncle Sam in red, white, and blue, with a cardboard hat tilted rakishly on his head.

  Now other fairy-book folk appeared. There was Red Riding Hood approaching, hand in hand with Little Boy Blue. Here came a red devil and a scary witch in black. Close behind followed a little Dutch girl in white cap and apron with a blond Dutch boy for her partner. Soon the street was a-sparkle with all the colors of the rainbow.

  Ella cupped her hands. “Line up, everybody!” she shouted. Two by two the children fell into place, with Queen Sarah standing proudly at their head. As she held the beribboned Maypole aloft, her curls caught the gold of the afternoon sun. Lena turned to Mama with a smile. “With such curls, she feels like a real Queen.”

  Henny ran up and down the line to see if everything was in order. “Forward, march!” Ella gave the command. The glittering array moved down the street, past the crowd of admiring spectators. At the very end of the line rolled several gaily decorated carts containing the smallest children. Last of all came Charlie. He stood up in his red, white, and blue wagon waving with his cane at the curious little outsiders who trotted along behind.

  “Sit down!” Henny ordered, “or you’ll fall!”

  They were about halfway to the park when a gray patch of cloud fell across the sun. A sudden gust of wind set costumes rustling. Anxiously Ella scanned the sky. It grew darker. The wind rose, scattering dust and papers before it. The Maypole swayed back perilously. Sarah had to hold on with all her might. There was a rumble of thunder, and a few blobs of rain spattered the marchers. “My costume will get all melted!” a little girl lamented. The drops grew heavier.

  “Oh, how awful!” Henny cried despairingly. “Ella, what’ll we do?”

  Ella stood still, thinking hard. Then it came to her. She knew what to do. Her arm shot forward. “This way, everybody. Turn left!” she shouted. “Double quick time! One, two—one, two!”

  In less time than it takes to tell, the whole parade, Maypole, carts, children, and all, had disappeared into Papa’s shop. Just in the nick of time, too! Cr-a-ack! A sharp clap of thunder bounced over the rooftops, and the rain pelted down in torrents.

  Papa was in the back making up a rag bale when the army of youngsters swooped down upon him. He jumped out of the bin and came running. “What’s this?” he shouted above the din.

  “It started raining, and we were nearby. And I had to save the costumes!” explained Ella.

  “Raining! Oh, my!” Papa passed his fingers through his hair. All about him were long faces. “It’s really a shame,” he said sympathetically.

  “The grounds will be all soaking and full of puddles!” Queen Sarah was close to tears.

  “And we were going to dance around the Maypole and everything,” Gertie said, whimpering. In another second, the other smaller children had joined in, loudly wailing their disappointment.

  “Stop yammering!” Ella yelled. “We can still have our May Party. We’ll have it right here. That is—” she turned questioningly—“if it’s all right with my papa.”

  Ella could see that Papa wasn’t exactly pleased. But with a host of little boys and girls staring up at him pleadingly, he just couldn’t say no. “Well, what with the rain, there won’t be any business. The peddlers will be coming in anyway, so I couldn’t do much work.” A grin was slowly spreading across his face as if he too were being caught up by the party spirit. “Come on, Queen Sarah! On your throne!” He lifted her up in his strong arms and perched her high on his rolltop desk.

  Pulling off the lid of the empty pot-bellied stove, he stuck the Maypole inside. It looked so comical there, the children shrieked with laughter. “The stove’s got an umbrella!” a little boy cried.

  “Clear the center!” Ella called out. She and Henny pulled the chairs away from the stove and backed them up against the walls. Papa brought out boxes, old newspaper bundles, and piles of rag sacks. “Sit down, everybody!” ordered Ella, and there was a mad scramble for places.

  No sooner was everyone seated than the peddlers came straggling in. All wet and bedraggled, they stared around bewilderedly. “Say, Pop, you make the school?” peddler Joe wanted to know.

  “Join the party!” everyone greeted the newcomers.

  “But I ain’t dressed up!” Picklenose moaned with comical sadness. A little boy ran forward and yielded up a gold paper crown. Picklenose promptly balanced it on the top of his head. “Don’t I look fancy?” he exclaimed, swaggering up and down.

  Ella struck up a song. “Today’s the first of May, May, May! Today’s the first of May!” coaxing everyone to join. Joe pulled out a battered harmonica from a pocket and played along. The air was filled with music as one rousing tune followed another with different youngsters standing up to lead.

  Then Scotty took the center of the floor. “Watch this kids!” he roared. He danced a lively sailor’s hornpipe. The delighted children clapped their hands and beat out the rhythm with their feet. When the dance was over, they clamored for more. Scotty was puffing hard and mopping his brow. “I guess I ain’t as spry as I used to be,” he apologized. “So, with your Highness’s permission, Queen Sarah, I’d like to sit me down.”

  Polack made a face. “Bah! You call that a dance! I show you real dance—Polish dance. Joe, you play the song—you know—the one I already teach you.” He grabbed hold of Henny’s arm and began to hop and leap about, yelling out the steps to her. The pair turned and twisted and flew all around the basement as the children screamed with delight. The dance ended with Polack twirling Henny high in the air. “Now that’s what I call a dance!” he said proudly, as he bowed to the loud applause.

  Now Queen Sarah clapped her hands. “Ladies of my court, let the Maypole dance begin!”

  Picklenose jumped up eagerly. “Seeing as I still got my crown on, I’ll hold the Maypole.” He lifted it high. The bigger girls formed a circle and took hold of the streamers. In and out and under they waltzed, winding the ribbons in pretty patterns around the pole. This time it was the peddlers who did the applauding. They stamped their feet and whistled.

  Charlotte sprang on a chair. “Listen, everybody!” she cried, “why don’t we have a play, especially since we’re all wearing costumes!”

  Everyone was enraptured with the idea. “Tell us a story, Charlotte. Then we can act it out,” they cried. The room grew quiet as Charlotte began to make up a play. But she didn’t get very far. Every head turned towards the staircase. A very wet pair of shoes was squeaking, squidge, squidge, squidge down the steps.

  “So this is where you are,” an excited voice hailed them. It was Uncle Hyman, all soaked and dripping. “I was running all over the park looking for you! He waved his hands at them. “Now, please, everybody, don’t get lost again. Wait right here till I come back! Loudly the shoes squidged up the stairs again, leaving a wet trail behind them.

  Papa shrugged his shoulders. “Where’s that meshugener (crazy one) going?”

  “Go on with the play, Charlotte,” urged one of the elves.

  Charlotte considered a moment. “Well, now let’s see. Where was I. Oh—.”

  The squidgy sounds were heard again, only slower this time. Uncle Hyman appeared, arms laden with two bulging paper bags. He staggered over to Sarah and set the bags down on the desk. “See what I got!”

  The youngsters bounded out of their seats and milled around the Queen. Sarah thrust her hand inside one of the bags and came up with something. With a big smile, she held it up for all to see. There was a tremendous shout. “Ice cream sandwiches!” A forest of eager hands stretched forward to receive the surprise. “Gimme one!” �
�Gimme one!” Six active hands popped furiously in and out of the bags as Henny and Ella rushed to Sarah’s rescue. Luckily there was enough for every one, including the peddlers. As the youngsters bit into the crisp cracker covering, a boy cried out, “Gee, this is the best part of all. Thanks a lot, Mr. Uncle.”

  That reminded the others of their manners, and thank-yous for Uncle Hyman came flying from every side.

  You could see Uncle Hyman was pleased, but he waved his hands to shush them. “So stop thanking me already and eat,” he spluttered. “The ice cream will melt.”

  A golden shaft of light suddenly spread across the cellar steps. “Look, the sun’s out!” someone cried.

  “Now it shines,” observed Papa. “Just when the party’s over.”

  “Well, at least we’ll be able to march back without spoiling our costumes,” Ella declared. “Line up, all of you, as we were in the beginning.”

  There was a hustle and bustle. Then, like a dazzling rainbow, the column of masqueraders filed up the stairs and out into the sunshine.

  “Did you ever hear of a May Party in a cellar?” the witch said to Puss-in-Boots.

  “I’m glad it rained!” exclaimed little Bo-Peep. “It was the best May Party ever.”

  And everyone agreed.

  THE WEDDING was only six weeks away. Uncle Joe had given Mama material for the girls’ dresses—yards of the daintiest French voile with plenty of lace for trimming. Mama’s sewing machine whirled constantly as she and Lena took turns with the dressmaking.

  Fittings were exciting but tiresome too. Lena pinned and marked and pinned again. Sarah said it made her feel faint to have to stand still for so long. But when the pieces of material actually began to look like dresses, the girls were thrilled.

  “What’s Charlie going to wear, Mama?” Gertie asked.

  “A little black velvet suit with a white collar. Lena and I have it all planned.”

  “Oh, he’ll look so cute! Just like Little Lord Fauntleroy!” exclaimed Charlotte.