Santa Claus’ Daughter. A MUSICAL CHRISTMAS BURLESQUE

IN TWO ACTS,

BY

EVERETT ELLIOTT AND F. W. HARDCASTLE.

TO WHICH IS ADDED

DESCRIPTION OF THE COSTUMES—CAST OF THE CHARACTERS—ENTRANCES AND EXITS—RELATIVE POSITIONS OF THE PERFORMERS ON THE STAGE, AND THE WHOLE OF THE STAGE BUSINESS.

Entered according to the act of Congress in the year 1892, by AMES’ PUBLISHING CO., in the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

CLYDE, OHIO: AMES’ PUBLISHING CO.

[Pg 2]

SANTA CLAUS’ DAUGHTER.

COSTUMES.

PROPERTIES.

Large book and quill pen for Gussie; carpet bag and cane for O’Rourke; sleigh bells. Also quizzing glass for Gussie.

SYNOPSIS OF EVENTS.

ACT I.—Scene, North Pole Snow Castle. Santa Claus’ home. Song of the Snow-fairies. Gussie and the Fairies. Santa Claus preparing for his “night out.” The “Directory.” “The Dude.” Kitty wants to move to the land of mortals, where men are plenty. Santa Claus’ advice. Song by Santa Claus and family, “A Model Man.” Gussie, “That’s clevah, deucedly clevah doncher no?” Gussie’s attempt to sing. Chestnut bell. Santa Claus’ promise to bring Kitty a man. Astonishment at Kitty’s rash request. Caught out on a foul. “I’ll bring her a boodler, a Farmer’s Alliance man,” anything to disgust her with the whole race. Song—Sleighing song. Departure of Santa Claus for the land of mortals, in his sleigh and fleet-footed reindeers.

ACT. II.—Return of Santa Claus, with an Irish Paddy. Santa Claus and Gussie witness unseen, the meeting of Kitty and “her man.” “Do yez chew gum, and play on the type-writer.” Song by Kitty, “The Pleasure of Catching a Man.” The proposal. “The could weather will make yez a widdy before yez married, so it will.” Santa Claus’ despair at Kitty’s acceptance of O’Rourke. Gussie has an idea. O’Rourke declared King of the North Pole. Coronation song. March by Fairies and Holidays. “The last ton of coal which broke the camels back.” O’Rourke ascends the throne. Cigarette or two. Kitty resolves to reform O’Rourke. Tableau. Erin appears. Her appeal in behalf of the Irish girls, beats the world and Kitty isn’t in it. Kitty undecided whether to go with O’Rourke or remain. Tableau. Curtain.

STAGE DIRECTIONS.

R., means Right; L., Left; R. H., Right Hand; L. H., Left Hand; C., Centre; S. E., [2d E.,] Second Entrance; U. E., Upper Entrance; M. D., Middle Door; F., the Flat; D. F., Door in Flat; R. C., Right of Centre; L. C., Left of Centre.

R. R. C. C. L. C. L.

⁂ The reader is supposed to be upon the stage facing the audience.

[Pg 3]

Santa Claus’ Daughter.

ACT I.

SCENE.—A large hall in Santa Claus’ Snow-palace. Throne-chair R. U. E.; table and chair L.; bell cord L.; as curtain rises Gussie is discovered at table L., writing in a large book.

Enter, Snow-fairies, C., and come down to front.

SONG OF SNOW-FAIRIES.

To the tune of “My Boyhood’s Happy Home Down on the Farm.”

At close of song Gussie comes down to front, makes an extravagant bow to the Fairies.

Gus. Well now, that’s clevah, deucedly clevah doncherno, but ladies, you distract my mind from the duties incident to my exalted office. I must really ask you to depaht. I must indeed.

Fai. (Fairies stamp their feet indignantly and speak in chorus) Listen to that! The horrid man! Distract his mind indeed, bah! (to Gussie) You never had a mind.

Gus. Beg pardon ladies, but it is twue, evewy word twue. This is Chwistmas Eve and in one hour fwom this time I must have the “World’s Directory of Deserving Didlets” weady for Santa Claus before he starts out upon his annual journey. [Pg 4]

Fai. (in chorus) Is that true? Why did you not say so before?

Queen. (Fairies go to entrances R. and L., Queen goes to C. All turn and look at Gussie as Queen says) Gussie, we go, but we return; and when we do return we will sing—Comrades!!

(exeunt, Fairies

Gus. Well, I flatter myself, that was nicely done. Other fellows may have some trouble in managing the ladies, but it is no trouble at all, when you know how. Gussie old boy, you are clevah, deucedly clevah.

Enter, Santa Claus, C.

Santa. Well my good fellow, are all things prepared? Is the Directory ready for my journey to-night?

Gus. (making profound bow) Yes, your majesty, it will be ready in fifteen minutes.

(sits at table, L., and writes

Santa. By-the-way, Gus—

Gus. (interrupting) Gussie, sir, Gussie.

Santa. Well, Gussie, how are the children panning out this year? Are there as many as usual?

Gus. More, your majesty, many more.

Santa. More? Well, well! And the Smiths, I suppose there are a few Smiths left?

Gus. Ah! your majesty, their name is Legion!

Santa. Legion! Eh? Um, ah! yes, Legion. Well, it may rest us a little to have them change their name. What is it Shakespeare has to say on the subject of changing names? Smith—Smith—by any other name would—um—no! no! that is not exactly what I want.

(walks up and down stage, hands behind his back, meditatively

Gus. Oh! I say, your majesty, have you heard of the accident?

Santa. Accident? Whose accident?

Gus. The Jones’, sir.

Santa. The Jones’? And what is the matter with the Jones’?

Gus. (sorrowfully) Dead!

Santa. What, dead? All dead?

Gus. Oh no! your majesty, not all of them, but Johnny and his sister Sue—

Santa. (starting towards Gussie angrily) Villain, I fain would smite thee! (stops suddenly and draws hand across forehead) No! no! what would I do? Destroy the last lingering specimen of an almost extinct race? I will spare thee, dude. Proceed with thy labors. (Santa walks up and down stage thoughtfully, while Gussie makes a great show of writing in his book. Santa stops to watch him as he writes all the way across one page and as far to one side as he can reach) What are you doing there?

Gus. Your majesty, I am writing the name of the child of a Russian exile, but I fear you will have to carry a few K’s and Z’s loose in your pocket, for of a verity the book will not contain them all. (gong heard striking off L., Santa listens, Gussie starts) Great smoke, I am discovered! There goes that chestnut bell!

Santa. It is the ninth hour; I must hasten. (to Gussie) Summon my household that I may bid them good-by. (Gussie pulls bell-rope, L., great noise of tin pans, cans, cat calls, etc., heard) There, there, that will do. We do not want to perform the miracle of raising the dead. [Pg 5]

Fairies rush in R., Holidays L., Mrs. Claus C., followed by Kitty

Mrs. C. Wh-wh-where’s the fire!

Omnes. Yes, where’s the fire.

Santa. The fire? There is no fire my dears.

Mrs. C. (seizing Santa’s sleeve and trying to lead him off L.) Then let us get out of this house at once, hubby, there is going to be an earth-quake! Didn’t you hear that noise?

Gus. Oh! pshaw, that was only a fall in the temperature.

Omnes. Is that so? Oh! I am so glad.

Santa. Yes, but I don’t want you to be glad. It is very disrespectful in you, to say the least, to be glad at a time like this.

Mrs. C. Why my dear hubby, what is the matter with the time?

Santa. The matter is, my dear, that I am going to leave you presently.

Omnes. Going to leave us?

Kitty. Going to leave us? Why papa, you will be too early for the World’s Fair.

Santa. I am not going to the World’s Fair, daughter. Have you forgotten that this is Christmas Eve, my regular night out?

Mrs. C. Why, so it is; I had forgotten. To-night you go forth to distribute gum-drops, drums and dollies to the children of all Christendom. It is very kind of you my dear, I am sure, and I am sorry that you are compelled to tear yourself away, but you will return to-morrow?

Santa. I am glad that you appreciate me, my dear. Let me advise you to keep a good thing while you have it.

Kitty. Yes, papa is a good man; at least, I suppose he is a good man. Good is a relative term, and men are so scarce in this kingdom of the North Pole, that I cannot judge by comparison.

Santa. Daughter, I am an exceptional creature in every way. Thank the Fates that you have never been permitted to meet a less worthy specimen of the race than your papa.

Gus. (Gussie giggles) Speaking of men, how about me?

(swaggers with thumbs in arm holes of vest

Omnes. Oh! you don’t count; you’re a dude.

(Gussie retires discomfited

Kitty. Papa, are men as scarce in the land of mortals as they are here?

Santa. No, my child, no indeed; there are not enough to go around to be sure; and under the present system, old maids seem to be a compulsory blessing; still they are numerous, quite so.

Kitty. (rapturously) Oh! papa, let’s move!

Mrs. C. Why, what is the matter with the child? (goes over to Kitty) My dear you must be ill: come, take a milk-shake and go to bed.

Gus. (aside) Milk-shake! I believe I am feeling a kind of goneness too.

Santa. No! no, there is nothing the matter with the child, only a little natural curiosity, that is all; but Kitty you would better remain content to know no man but your papa; he is an exceptional creature, I assure you.

Omnes. Yes, your papa is a model man. [Pg 6]

Santa Claus sings

Gus. Well now that’s clevah, deucedly clevah, by Jove. Methinks I’ll warble a little myself.

(starts down stage

Omnes. Oh! spare us, spare us!

(stopping him

Gus. Just as you please ladies, but it is your misfortune that you do not appreciate good music.

Kitty. Papa, that is a very pretty custom of yours, of every year giving presents to the children of mortals; so pretty indeed, that I wonder you have not tried it at home, that you have never given your daughter a Christmas present.

Santa. My dear child, it would be useless; the wealth of my kingdom is at your command; your every wish is gratified. What more could I give you than you already have?

Kitty. But surely, surely, there is something in the land of mortals which I have not. Could you not bring me a gift from there?

Santa. I had not thought of that. Yes, ask what e’er thou wilt, be it in my power to do so I will grant it.

Kitty. You have given your word.

Santa. Yes, and my word is worth twenty piastries on the dollar.

Kitty. Then papa, bring me—bring me—a man!

Mrs. C. What is the child saying?

Omnes. She says she wants a man!

Santa. (aside) Caught out on a foul! How am I to get out of this predicament? I have given my word and I would rather break a dollar bill than break my word. (thinks) Ah, I have it! I will bring her a man, but oh, such a man! I will bring her a boodler, a fee-grabber, a Farmer’s Alliance advocate, ha! ha! ha! She will be disgusted with the whole race and I will save my honor and my child. (turns to Kitty.) Daughter, you shall have your man.

During this speech all indulge in business of surprise at Kitty’s rash request.

Kitty. Papa, you are a gem!

Santa. A gem, daughter? You mean a jewel do you not?

Gus. No she means tin-types; three for a quarter, doncherno. (sleigh-bells heard off R., Gussie in horror) Great smoke! There goes that chestnut bell again. [Pg 7]

Santa. Ah! my sleigh and my fleet-footed reindeers are ready. I must away.

Enter, Footman and Coachman, C., and stand one on each side of entrance.

Footman. Your majesty, we are ready.

(bows low

Santa. And so am I. My friends you well might envy me my ride to-night, with the pale moon shining overhead and the white snow gleaming beneath the feet of my fleet-footed reindeers. And the bells, what melody their little metal tongues peal forth upon the frosty air. Surely it is a subject worthy the pen of a poet; the description of a sleigh-ride on a night like this.

Santa Claus sings

SLEIGHING SONG.

To the tune of “The Village Blacksmith.”

Repeat chorus softly as Santa Claus exits C., followed by Footman and Coachman, the rest gazing after him.

CURTAIN.

END OF ACT I.

ACT II.

SCENE.—Same as in Act I. Sleigh bells heard in distance coming nearer, until they stop at C.; Santa Claus enters C., followed by Gussie and preceded by Footman.

(Exit, Footman.

Gus. Your majesty has returned. You are even more prompt than usual. No one would suspect that those venerable whiskers of yours had been silvered by the frosts of many hundreds of winters. [Pg 8]

Santa. No, Gus my boy, time has no power to dampen the ardor of old Santa Claus, nor to make him the less able to perform his self-appointed duties. But that reminds me Gus.; last night my daughter made a strange request. You heard it did you not?

Gus. Yes, your majesty, I heard it, and thought it strange that you should make the promise that you did.

Santa. And so it was, and would have been much worse than strange had not a happy thought struck me with a force like unto a hod of falling bricks.

Gus. In other words, you had an idea.

Santa. Right you are; and as a reward for your years of faithful service I propose to share it with you.

Gus. (aside) I wish his idea would take the form of an increase in my salary. Ten dollars a month scarce suffices to keep me in raiment befitting my noble birth and high position, doncherno.

Santa. What were you saying, Gus?

Gus. I was saying, your majesty, that I would indeed be proud to share your first idea with you.

Santa. Well then, this is the scheme: I have brought back with me a man as green as the green isle from which he came, a regular Paddy of the old school. My daughter, having seen no men but you and me, will conclude that he is one of the choicest specimens of his species, and will thus be disenchanted.

Gus. The scheme looks well upon the face of it; I only hope that it may conclude even as your majesty wishes.

Santa. You hope that it may work! Why sir, it must work! Think of the position I would be in should my daughter ever marry! In six short months or less, my son-in-law would have my throne and I would lose my job; mayhaps, shorn of my kingly robes, be slinging hash to earn my daily bread.

(shudders

Gus. Well now, that’s clevah, deucedly clevah, by Jove.

Santa. What is that? Clever, did you say?

Gus. I mean, your majesty, that it was very clevah of you to extricate yourself from such a trying situation.

Santa. Oh! yes, that’s different; and now I will proceed to unfold my plans to you.

Gus. Proceed by all means.

Santa. I have ordered the terrier to be brought into this room, and have also requested that my daughter come here. We will conceal ourselves and enjoy her astonishment at her first meeting with her man.

(O’Rourke’s voice heard off L.

O’Rourke. Can’t yez let go av me arrums, yez miserable dagos? Do yez think Oi can’t walk alone at all, at all?

Santa. Ah! there he comes. Now then.

(they hide behind throne-chair

Enter, O’Rourke L., with Footman and Coachman holding to his arms.

O’Rourke. Come now, yeez hand-organ aristocrats, lave go me arrums. (Footman and Coachman bow to him and exit, C.) (O’Rourke shivering) Oh moy, oh moy, Oi don’t know whether this is an oice-crame saloon or a refrigerator car, but wan thing Oi do know, an’ that same is that this overcoat of moine is too foine for me prisint station in loife. (sees bell-rope) Helloa, phwat’s that? Oi think Oi’ll give her a pull and see if it won’t turrun on the stame. (pulls rope, great noise heard off L., O’Rourke terrified) Oh Oi say now, phwat a commiseration Oi’ve created, to be share. [Pg 9]

Enter, Footman, C.

Oh, get out av this, get out av this! You little spalpeen; can’t yez lave me alone at all, at all.

Foot. I have answered the bell sir, what is your wish?

O’Rourke. (aside) Oh, Oi see, he has come to take my order. (aloud) Oi say, send me up a ton of coal and a match; do yez moind?

Foot. We have no coal, sir.

O’Rourke. Will yez listen to that now! Yez have no coal, is it? Thin phwat do yez do for a foire, say now?

Foot. We use no fire, sir; we do not feel the cold.

O’Rourke. Yez don’t feel the could? Well thin, Oi do just that same. Yez can take moi ordher for a suit of clothes if yez plaze, sor.

(exit, Footman, C.

Well, what a quare set of crathures these are to be sure, and what a quare fix yez has got yerself into, McGinnins ould bye. Lasht night I was promenading down the streets of me native city whin suddintly biz—whiz—siz—and along came a sleigh pulled by six milch cows with forked horruns and a little man insoide all covered over with whiskirs. Thin out jumped thim little Frinch dagos, took hould of moi arrums and chucked me into that sleigh so quick Oi couldn’t draw moi breath; it’s down at the Bank yet. Oh, if Oi’d only had moi good shillelah then; Oi’d have cracked them wance or twice so Oi would. Thin, biz—whiz—siz—again, and here Oi am in a lodging house where they don’t have no foire and don’t feel the could. Oh moi, oh moi, Oi’ll have to keep circulatin’ around or Oi’ll be an oiceberg, so I will.

(dances around the room to keep warm

Enter, Kitty, C., unobserved by O’Rourke and watches him for a time.

Kitty. What are you doing there?

O’Rourke. (still dancing and not looking around) Kaping warrum to be coorse. Did yez think Oi was saying moi prayers?

Kitty. Are you a man?

O’Rourke. Av coorse Oi’m a man. Phwat did yez take me for, a statty of Venus?

(strokes his chin whiskers

Kitty. Then you must be the man my papa was to bring me.

O’Rourke. Yis, Oi’m yer man. (stops dancing and looks at her) Why, begorra it’s a girrul! How do you do, Miss Cleveland?

Kitty. My name is not Cleveland, sir: My name is Kitty Claus; I am the daughter of Santa Claus.

O’Rourke. Was that him what tore me away from moi home and kindred last noight?

Kitty. I suppose so.

O’Rourke. Then, Miss Claus, Oi shall have yer father prosecuted for cruelty to animals. That’s phwat Oi will. (motions Kitty to come nearer) Come here, now, come here, come here. (Kitty comes to his side, O’Rourke in a stage whisper says) Do yez chew gum?

Kitty. No sir, my mamma says I mustn’t.

O’Rourke. Well now, that’s a good girrul. Here is a penny; go to the blacksmith’s and get a bun. Say, do you play on the type-writer?

Kitty. Play on the type-writer?

O’Rourke. To be coorse.

(goes through motions of writing with his fingers

Kitty. What is that? I never saw a type-writer.

O’Rourke. Never saw a type-writer? Oh moi child, moi child, Oi fear your musical eddication has been sadly neglected. [Pg 10]

Kitty. I hope not, sir. I can sing quite well; at least so my papa says. Shall I sing for you?

O’Rourke. Yis, sing to me.

Kitty. What shall I sing?

O’Rourke. Oh, Oi don’t, care; anything but “Marguerite.”

Kitty. Well then, how would you like to hear “The Song That Reached My Heart?”

O’Rourke. Oh, don’t do that, don’t do that. Oi’ve got the toothache.

Kitty. You are hard to please, sir; but if you do not care to hear the song that reached my heart, I will sing you one of my own composition, written upon a theme which is nearest my heart, “The Pleasure of Catching a Man.”

Kitty sings

THE PLEASURE OF CATCHING A MAN.

Music, “McSarley’s Most Elegant Twins.”

O’Rourke. That’s a foine song, to be sure; beautiful sentiment and all that, but are you really in earnest about this matter?

Kitty. Indeed I am.

O’Rourke. Thin how would yez loike to become Mrs. O’Rourke?

Kitty. (running toward him) Oh! do you really mean—(turning away) er—er—this is so sudden—you must give me time to think. [Pg 11]

O’Rourke. “Think it over!” Yes, an’ whoile yez is thinkin’ it over Oi’ll be sthandin’ here frazin’ to death. Yez’ll have to do yer thinkin’ purty quick Miss Claus, or yez’ll be a widdy before yez is married, so you will.

Kitty. Are you really cold, dear? Why of course you are; how stupid of me to forget that you are not used to such a rigorous climate and those clothes of yours are hardly the proper thing for this frigid zone. I suppose you did not have time to change your clothes.

O’Rourke. To be coorse Oi didn’t have toime to get a shave even. (strokes whiskers) Bad cess to that father of yours.

Kitty. Poor man, how you must suffer. Come with me. I will have the court tailor take your measure for a suit of furs and the servants shall see that you are provided with a fire.

O’Rourke. Kitty, yez is a good girrul; but Oi say, would yez moind sinding up a ham and some hen-fruit.

Kitty. Hen-fruit?