THE PLAY BOX

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 224, 21 September 1935, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE PLAY BOX

Anne's Nightmare.

(IN ONE ACT.) (By BETTY UPTON HUGHES.) DRAMATIS PERSONAE: Little Girl Anne. Napoleon Bonaparte. Henry VIII. Reporter. Executioner. Secretary. Peter Pan. Joan of Arc. Anne Boleyn. Julius Caesar. Ghandi. " Bernard Shaw. Charlie Chaplin. Queen Elizabeth. Raleigh's Ghost. Lady-in-Waiting. Florence Nightingale. (Scene: Bedroom, softly lighted. Bed in centre, dressing table right, wardrobe left corner, chair right of bed. Window above bed, entrances left and right. In bed Little Girl Anne is lying asleep, snoring at intervals.) (Enter R. Henry VIII., very red and flushed, and followed by a worriedlooking executioner, axe in one hand, block in other.) Henry: Wherever is ehe? Anne! Come here at once. You're keeping everyone waiting, and we can't have dinner till you're out of the way. Where are you? Little Girl Anne (sitting bolt upright in bad): Do you want me, Your Majesty ? Henry (catching sight of her): What! Who in the name of goodness are you? No, no, I'm looking for my wife,. Anne Boleyn. She's due to be executed now, and she's disappeared, and the whole Court's searching for her. If she's eloped with anyone, I'll— (Shakes fist threateningly and dives into wardrobe.) Little Girl Anne: Oli, can I help, Your Majesty 1 (Gets out of bed, switches on light and all begin to search. Henry even pulls out drawers of dressing table. At last they haul out from under bed culprits, Anne Boleyn and Peter Pan.) Henry: Ha! So you were running off with him, were you? Well, you can both be executed now, and I'll stand and watch. Peter Pan: Oh, but you can't execute me. I shall live for ever. (Sprinkles gold dust on Anne Boleyn's shoulders as he speaks.)

HenTy: Oh, will you? We'll see. (Makes a grab at Peter, but clutches thin air, for the latter and Anne have floated lightly up and are flying towards the open window. Henry stares in anger and amazement.) Peter Pan: Cheerio, old thing. I'll be seeing you! Anne Boleyn: Good-bye, Henry. (Blows him a kiss, and disappears with Peter Pan out the window.) Henry (raging up 2nd down and rpluttering angrily): You, oli, you—bai jove, I could kill you—and —I'll have "you yet. (To executioner.) Why didn't you catch them? Oh—be off with you! (Executioner goes out saying): And ] was getting all worked up with the prospect of having something to do at k.st! Haven't chopped anyone's head off for three clays! (Henry is just going out when Charlie Chaplin, looking very frightened, rushes across to him from left entrance.) Charlie: Help! Oh, help! Henry: What's wrong, old man? You look as if you've seen a ghost. Charlie: So I have. Sir Walter Raleigh's ghost's chasing me. Oh, Henry! (Throws arms round Henry's neck and gazes fearfully over shoulder.) (Enter headless ghost, wailing mournfully and clanking chains after him.) Charlie: The.. ;f is. Oh, save me! (Hides his head a Henry's shoulder. Henry sticks sw i through ghost, with no result.)

Ghost: Here, cut that out! I won't hurt you. But, I say, do us a favour. Take these awful things off me, will you? (Indicates chains round ankles.) Henry. (to Charlie): You do it. Charlie: Oh, but supposing he does some jiggery-pokery on ine. You never know with these friendly ghosts. (Bends clown warily, keeping an eye -on the spectre all the time, and takes off chains. Ghost gives couple of dancing steps and utters a low, hollow laugh.) Ghost: Ah, that's better. Thanks, Charlie. Would you mind doing something else for me? Get my head, w 'l' you? Frightfully awkward without the jolly old thing, "i believe they preserve all the heads and keep them in the bathroom. Mine's the one with red hair and a long nose. : Certain!v. Anything to oblige. (Takes'a bell from pocket, rings it, and Ghandi enters." He bows low.) Get Walter's head immediately. (Ghandi bows, exits, and returns presently with a turnip cut into shape of a head, with a face painted on it and lights behind the eyes. It is borne on a golden cushion. Charlie sticks turnip on stick representing neck which pokes out top of ghost.) Ghost: Thanks awfully. I'll be able to sleep O.K. now. Very tiresome, wandering round looking for your head. Been years trying to find this palace. So long, boys. (Ghost vanishes out of left door.) Charlie (mopping his brow): Whew! Any more ghosts' around here ? If not, I'll be getting along. Thanks for rescuing me, Hal. (Shakes hands.) Henry: I'm off to look for my next wife. Cheerio, pip-pip- (Both go out opposite doors.) (Little Girl Anne, who has been crouching in fear and amazement by dressing table, hops quickly into bed, and, save for the snores, silence reigns for a few seconds. Then enters Napoleon Bonaparte, right entrance, followed by a harassed reporter (modern), notebook and pencil in hand.) Nap.: Will you go away? I'm busy. Reporter: But I've got to get a' stoiy. I've got to tell the world all about you, your private life, your likes and dislikes. I want to know if you re spending your next holidays at Cleopatra s Court, and if ycju like your eggs (lone 5 minutes or 3J minutes, and if you like snakes and ladders, or ludo, 01 jigpaws best, and if you prefer stiiped 01 spotted pyjamas, and. if you Nap. (interrupting him): Cleopatra or no Cleopatra, spots or no spots, I'ni too busy to be bothered. I've got a battle on my hands, and yet you ask me how I like my eggs done! Oh (gesticulating helplessly), go and play tops. Keporter: But this is a matter of ;' !'e and death, Mr. Napoleon._ Don t ,u understand? If I don't bring back ;• 1 ru-y I'll get sacked.

Nap.: Well, I'll sack you now. Save the others having the bother of. it. (Lifts foot in handsome buckled shoe and sends reporter flying out the door. Marches up and down, pausing now and again to take up that famous position of his. Then gives a shrill whistle and a secretary enters from left entrance.) J*ap.: Take down this telegram and have it sent immediately. "Dear Boadicea, —Get army ready for my intended attack upon you. Am flying over almost immediately, and want a good fight. Other victories lately have been too easy. No kick in 'em. Napoleon." (Exit secretary. He returns, however, only a minute later.) .

Secretary: Emperor, Joan of Arc is being sent to prison for taking part in the women's suffrage movement, and she's begging for you to go to her immediately. Nap.: Boadicea expedition off, then. Oh, my poor Joanie! Where is she? (Enter Joan of Arc, head held high, followed by Julius Caesar and Bernard Shaw. Nap. rushes to her and they embrace passionately.) Nap.: My own, do not be afraid. I am coming with you to prison. G.B.S. (stepping forward): Oh, no you're not, Emperor. (Caesar draws sword and they stab Nap, fiercely. He totters over backwards. Joan charges them, but G.B.S. and Caesar run for their lives out the door. Joan drops by Nap's, side, crying softly.) (Enter Queen Elizabeth, followed by Lady-in-Waiting. Neither notice two on floor at first.) Elizabeth: I'm sick of being an old maid. I want to taste life as it really is. I want to know how it feels walking up the aisle with a veil on. Oh, it must be glorious! Lady-in-Waiting: I should think it would feel pretty much the same as an ordinary train, Your Majesty. Elizabeth (eyeing her scornfully): You're so unroniautic. And then to have my darling Bony put the ring on! I do hope he hasn't started any more campaigns, though. The wedding's been put off and put off; just because of his silly old battles. (Suddenly she sees Nap. and Joan of Arc. Screams, and begins to weep into a tiny lace handkerchief.)

Elizabeth: Get an asp immediately. (Exit Lady-in-Waiting. Returns with it, and Elizabeth clutches it to her breast, saying, dramatically): Farewell, England. Farewell, life! You hold naught else for me; the world is now but a black, wearisome place, and I can live no longer. . All feeling, all emotion it> gone with the traitor Napoleon, and I wish only to die and rest for ever in heaven. Only there may I be liappy. Farewell, O niv England! Farewell, O cruel black world! Farewell. (Lady-in-Waiting hastens to place the chair behind the Queen, who falls back gracefully on to it. Lady-in-Waiting flees. Enter right Florence Nightingale, lamp in hand.) Florence:' Well, this is a nice state of affairs. It's worse than the Crimea. (Hears a sob from bed. Goes over and sees Little Girl Anne who has been sitting up in bed all this time.) Florence: And what's the matter with you ? Anne: Everybody's been deaded! Florence: I think you'd better have some castor oil. Anne: No! Oh, please, no! (Dives under bedclothes.) CURTAIN. PRODUCTION NOTE. As Vue cast in rather long, it might be necessary to cut it down somewhat. In this case one or two people could do all the unimportant parts, such as the Executioner, Ghandi and the Secretary, while the same could also do G.B.S. and Caesar. It would be quite easy to use the same person in a number of these small parts v