A Midsummer Night's Dream

       So we come to the last chapter on the World's Dolls. And everything that I am now going to tell you happened only the last night that ever was. It is no good telling me that it was just a dream! Nothing of the sort!

       It is true that I was asleep when it began, true that I went to sleep again afterwards; but that all that happened was just a dream, nonsense! Nonsense!  I tell you I was awake and saw it all, so what more can you want? The first thing that woke me was a boom. Someone had loudly struck a drum. Then again‚ boom! boom! By this time I was sitting bolt upright in my bed with the eiderdown gathered round my shoulders. Boom! boom! Again the drum, and then the trumpets and flutes, tra-tra-la-la-la-tra-la-la-la-laaa.

       No, there was no mistake; it was the orchestra in a theater, just before the curtain rang up for the last scene of the pantomine. Silence! A faint ting! ting! ting! Out broke the orchestra with a will: flutes, violins, drums, trumpets, piano, faster and faster, louder and louder, until with a final crash, in which both drum and cymbals seemed to be seeing which could outdo the other, the music came to a pause.

       Everything, until now, had been in complete darkness, but‚ will you believe it? ‚ as I sat there in bed, the big wardrobe (of which I could faintly see the looking-glass) slowly rolled to one side, just like the safety curtain rolls up, and there, before my eyes, was a miniature stage, brilliantly lit, and backed by decorative scenery. No one could be seen, but there were tall palm trees waving in the background, a sea, as blue as blue, a flight of steps in front leading down from a Moorish palace to the stage.

       As I watched, more and more scenery seemed to roll away, and I could see further and further out to sea, where a big ship in the distance was making its way towards the shore. Then, softly and drowsily, the orchestra began to play flutes and violins, and a wee figure tripped upon the fairy stage. What a start I had, for there, before my very eyes, was the English dolly, one hundred years old, with her crinoline, red cloak, and blue ribboned bonnet, just as you see her on the first page of this book. For all the weight of her years, she moved like a girl, and, after bowing towards me, she went across the stage and sat down upon a flowery bank near the entrance to the Moorish palace towards the sea. And then things began to happen so fast that I can scarcely tell you of them quickly enough. From either side of the stage English dollies, of every kind that you can possibly imagine, began to pour in. There were soldier dolls, sailor dolls, hospital nurses, round chubby baby dolls, young ladies, pedlars, Quaker girls, country girls. Little Lord Fauntleroys, Thumbs-ups, Woolly-heads,  even Teddy-bears and Penguins, until it looked as if there would not be room for another one to find a place. But each one fell into his or her own particular spot at the side and left the center quite clear.

       The music by now had grown quite loud again, and as I watched I saw that the great ship which had been so far across the sea was drawing nearer and nearer, until, just as she grounded upon the shore, the orchestra broke out into "Kule, Britannia": "Britons never, never shall be slaves."

       I took my eyes from the brilliant scene for just a moment to look at the orchestra. Yes, there was a miniature conductor, frantically waving his hand and baton as he conducted, and really I thought the little fellow with the drum would have burst it and himself too, so lustily did he whack at it when he came to the final bar. Then, back to the stage again!

       Forward sprang the bluejackets and the soldiers and caught the ropes, which the other sailor dollies on board flung to them, and then I looked at the crowd on board, waiting to land. The ropes were secured in a trice, and the sailors, flinging their caps down, prepared to steady the gangway that was being lowered from the ship to the shore. All this time the orchestra was silent, as though waiting for a cue; it came when the gangway was safely lashed in position.

       The English doll rose from her seat; the conductor tapped with his baton, and down the gang-way (just as I told you in the second chapter), stepped little Miss America, while the orchestra played "The Star-Spangled Banner." Ere she had quite reached the shore, a Japanese boy began to descend, and again the orchestra changed to appropriate music.

       In rapid succession the passengers streamed off: Russia, Lapland, Italy, Hungary, France (of course, with " La Marseillaise "), Norway, Sunny Spain, Switzerland, Holland, Belgium ("La Braban-gonne," Mr. Orchestra, please !), Turkish girls closely veiled, until you would never have believed it possible that the ship could have held so many. Finally the Captain and the crew followed, and there were only two or three men left on board, grinning broadly as they hung over the side.

       Surely, I thought, this is the end; but, almost before I had had time to think it, the door of the Moorish palace was flung open, the orchestra recommenced, and down the steps came the Flathead dolly, just as I have described her to you. Really, it was too ridiculous to see (actually see!) all these dollies walking off the ship and down the steps, just like live things. The door did not shut behind her, and I caught a dazzling vision of the Precious Child of Korea, as she made her way rather totteringly down the steps. Then came the Samoan girl, the queer little Kaffir clay doll, and crowds and crowds of others of every nationality under the sun. When the ugly little Kaffir doll appeared, several others broke into a peal of laughter at her quaint appearance, and it was just here that the sailor-boys showed how fine they are all through; for, while some of the others were beginning to laugh, one stepped forward, and, with a bow, took her arm, and, with his head in the air, walked down the steps, courteous and proud as any king. Hurrah., sailor-boy! I did clap that, you may be sure.

       But what is happening now? The orchestra has stopped! Out go all the lights, and it is night! A monotonous dub! dub! dub! on the small drum, gradually getting faster and faster.

       Suddenly the blackness is pierced by a brilliant beam of light from the ship: they have put on a searchlight, which creeps across the sea feeling and feeling its way. For what? Ah! a great gasp of wonder! The searchlight has steadied, and there its beam is concentrated upon a tiny silvery airplane, no, two! No, there are half a dozen of them, winging their way across the black night. Even as we watch another marvel is happening, and the sun peeps, the edge of his golden disc above the edge of the sea, joining his rays to that of the searchlight. First pink, then red, then gold, then yellow, until the shadowy figures upon the stage become quite clear again and everything is illumined by bright, radiant light. Now the first of the airplanes is circling round and round as it descends, gracefully as a bird, to the stage.

       And who can be inside it? We have not long to wait, for out steps Miss Serbia (too late to catch the boat). The second comes to earth with a tail-spin: Rip Van Winkle has arrived, and he is awake too, wide awake! Number three reaches the stage, and out steps the Schoolmaster, with a  A Midsummer Night's Dream little skull cap and glasses through which he peers enquiringly at the scene around him. His waistcoat is white, he wears a velveteen coat and no birch is in his hand, only a kindly smile on his face as he gazes at the merry throng surrounding him. Everyone gives a hearty cheer, and, ere this has died away, the fourth 'plane grounds, and Miss Madeira steps forth. A queer little figure she looks, too, with her bulky legs and striped print dress, and her hair carried up to a stiff point. From the windows of the fifth airplane two faces can be seen‚ dusky faces and black hair decorated with gay feathers‚ an Indian chief and his squaw. Look at their moccasins as they step down, he bravely, she timidly.

       Who are the passengers in the last? The Banana boy and girl. Thunders of applause greet them, for, even before they reach the ground, they begin to scatter handfuls of the fruit that they have brought with them from far-off Bermuda. What a quaint little pair of figures they make as they step from the tiny 'plane, their funny little nut heads waggling, waggling, waggling as they walk. The Banana girl holds a chic little sun-shade in her hand, and the Banana boy wears a funny little hat that makes him look exactly like Charlie Chaplin.

       These are the final arrivals, and the orchestra recommences another gay tune. And now everybody that could possibly find standing-room is crowded upon the stage. Dolls from the North, dolls from the South, dolls from the East, dolls from the West, and so to the final tableau of all the nations. Britain in the center, behind her the good old Union Jack; France, with the tricolor; Belgium, black, yellow and red; Japan, the land of the Rising Sun; color massed upon color, brilliant dresses, waving flags, tuneful music working up and up to the climax.

       And then, suddenly, everything went dark, and I shivered. A dream? Nothing of the kind! It is true that, when I woke in the morning with the sunlight streaming through the blind, the wardrobe was back in its place as though it had never been moved. You may be sure I did move it, in my endeavor to find the mystic Dolly Show. The paper was on the wall, and, although I tapped and tapped, I could not find any hollow-sounding place. But I know that the wardrobe did roll away. I know that the dollies were there. I know that I did sit up in bed, wrapped in the eiderdown; and anyone who says again that it's a dream, well, poof for your dream, so there!

"You can't leave Hanoi without seeing a traditional water-puppet show.

 The shows, which appeal to all ages, are charming, picaresque
entertainments accompanied by a traditional Vietnamese pit orchestra.

 You can join the class to make this unique puppet but it seems not

 easy to make it. Let's try to enjoy this traditional entertainment!"