The Meaning of Thanksgiving Day, a Seasonal Play

by Carolyn Wells

The Meaning of Thanksgiving Day

A Seasonal Play

By
Carolyn Wells
Author of “Queen Christmas,“ “The Sweet Girl Graduate,” etc.

Philadelphia
The Penn Publishing Company 1922

The Meaning of Thanksgiving Day

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Cast of Characters

• Ceres—Goddess of Grain.
• Pomona—Goddess of Fruits.
• Peace—An Attendant.
• Plenty—An Attendant,
• Father Time.
• Mother Earth.
• Grandfather.
• Grandmother.
• Father.
• Mother.
• Son.
• Daughter.

Costumes

Ceres, Goddess of Grain, wears costume of light yellow and wheat ears and poppies in her hair. She presides over the sheaves.

Pomona, Goddess of Fruits, wears costume of deep yellow and russet or red, with autumn leaves and flowers. She presides over the harvest of vegetables and fruits.

Peace wears a costume of white, with classic draperies.

Plenty wears a costume of purple and gold.

Father Time wears the usually pictured “Father Time” costume.

Mother Earth wears a costume of brown and green, trimmed with leaves. She carries a garden basket with small tools and little pots of slips or cuttings. A few flowers are stuck carelessly in her hair or on her dress.

Grandfather wears picturesque costume of Colonial or Pilgrim Father type.

Grandmother wears picturesque costume of Colonial or Pilgrim Mother type.

Father wears modern, attractive clothes.

Mother wears modern, attractive clothes.

Son wears up-to-date outing clothes.

Daughter wears an attractive sport suit,

The Meaning of Thanksgiving Day

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Scene.—Harvest Hall. Decorated with Autumn leaves, vines and evergreens, also late Autumn flowers. On one side are picturesque heaps of all sorts of Autumn fruits and vegetables, and on the other side, sheaves of grain, corn, etc., attractively arranged.

(Ceres, Pomona, Peace and Plenty discovered on stage.)

(The four sing. Air, “Battle Hymn of the Republic.”)

The earth has rolled around again and harvest time is here,
The glory of the seasons and the crown of all the year;
Let us voice our thanks and praises in a chorus of good cheer,
For it is Thanksgiving Day,
For the early crops and later,
For the lesser fruits and greater,
All give thanks to our Creator,
For it is Thanksgiving Day.
We‘re thankful for the sunshine and we‘re thankful for the rain,
That blessed our faithful labors and that ripened fruit and grain;
And the harvest so abundant shows our work was not in vain,
On this Thanksgiving Day.

(Chorus as above.)

(Enter Father Time. He bows to the Goddesses with great dignity.)

Time.

Ceres! Pomona! Peace and Plenty, too.
Greetings and compliments I bring to you.
Fair goddesses of bounty, I declare,
Each year your harvest seems more rich and rare.
And I appreciate,—with thanks sincere,
This splendid product of a bounteous year.
Pomona,—Ceres,—at your feet I lay
My tribute on this glad Thanksgiving Day.

(Time lays a long green palm at the feet of each goddess, then goes to the seat prepared for him on a platform at the back center of stage. Peace and Plenty take up the palms and put them in appropriate places.)

(Enter Mother Earth. She is plump and smiling, and carries a garden basket with small tools and little pots of slips or cuttings. A few flowers are stuck carelessly in her hair or dress, and her effect is gay, busy and good-natured.)

Earth.

Good-day, Pomona,—good-day, Ceres, dear.
What noble showing of Thanksgiving cheer!
(Looks critically, and fingers the exhibit.)
Fine turnips and potatoes—I‘ll allow!
And apples, right up to the mark, I vow!
These are some pumpkins! And this wheat and corn
I‘ve never seen surpassed since I was born!
Goddesses, dear, you‘ve surely done me proud,
With joy I sing your praises, long and loud.
What say you, Father Time, don‘t you agree
A fairer, finer harvest scarce could be?

(Mother Earth goes to her place, beside Time, and then all sing.)

Chorus (air, ”Seeing Nelly Home.”)

Now the Harvest moon is shining
In the blue of Heaven‘s dome.
And within this hall of peace and plenty
We have met for Harvest Home.
Here we sing our Harvest Home,
Our abundant Harvest Home;
And with songs of joy and glad Thanksgiving,
Celebrate our Harvest Home.

Time.

We are at one, my children, one and all
Who are here gathered in this Harvest Hall.
Fair Ceres, with her grain in golden sheaves,
Pomona, with her store of fruits and leaves;
Dear Peace and Plenty, happy in thought
That Harvest time hath such abundance brought.
While Mother Earth is smiling in content;
And I, myself, enjoy the glad event.
And yet,—this peace and plenty,—all of it,
Is meant the human race to benefit.
Now here‘s a question that I‘d like to ask;
As they, in this fair peace and plenty bask,
Do they appreciate what we bestow?
And are they grateful? This I‘d like to know.

Earth.

That‘s so, oh, Father Time, I‘ve often thought
Some folks don‘t seem as grateful as they ought.
Do they show gratitude? Not they, indeed!
They take all that we give—and pay no heed———

Time.

Now, Mother Earth, don‘t you be too severe
On our own children! Maybe, if we‘d hear
Their story———

Earth.

That‘s the thing to do! I say,
To-day they celebrate Thanksgiving Day
On earth. And I propose we try to find
Just what Thanksgiving means to mortal mind.

Time.

How go about it?

Peace.

I‘ll suggest a way.
Let‘s bring some mortal up here,—let him say
Just what he means by giving thanks.

Earth.

And then
By him can we judge all the mortal men?

Time.

A man and woman both, we must invite.

Plenty.

Nay, more than that. I think it would be right
To bring a family———

Earth.

Yes, that‘s it! You know
Thanksgiving Day‘s a family feast, and so,
Go, Peace and Plenty,—quick, be on your way!
And bring a family here from earth,

Peace.

What is a family?

Time.

But stay,———
Family? Let me see;
A father and a mother there must be———

Earth.

Grandfather and grandmother, too, I think,

Time.

Yes, and a son and daughter. Quick as wink,
Fly, Peace and Plenty, and bring back with you,
A human family,—typical and true.

(Peace and Plenty depart on their errand. The four remaining sing. Air, “Highland Laddie.”)

Pomona.

Oh, what do you think that a mortal family‘s like?

Ceres.

Oh, what do you think that a mortal family‘s like?

Earth.

They‘re not a bit like you, dears, they‘re made of common clay.

Time.

But it‘s aye in my heart that they love Thanksgiving Day!

Pomona.

Oh, what do you think that a human family ‘ll do?

Ceres.

Oh, what do you think that a human family ‘ll do?

Earth.

They‘ll do the queerest things, dear, the queerest things they‘ll say.

Time.

But it‘s aye in my heart that they‘ll love Thanksgiving Day.

(Enter Peace and Plenty, bringing the Human Family: Grandfather and Grandmother; Father and Mother; Son: athletic, up-to-date, wholesome young man, Daughter: efficient, sensible and pretty. The best type of modern girlhood.)

(The old people have courtly, courteous manners. The parents are well-bred and conventional. The young people are frankly curious and enthusiastic.)

Ceres and Pomona.

Welcome, oh, mortals, to our Harvest Home.

Grandmother. (dropping old-fashioned curtsey).

Thank you; we‘re very glad, indeed, to come.

Grandfather.

My! it‘s a treat to see such garden truck!

Father.

Yes; in your crops you surely had good luck!

Son. (smiling, but superior).

Not luck, Dad. It is scientific skil.

Time. (kindly).

It‘s hard work, laddie, that best fills the bill.
Now, mortals, by your leave, we brought you here
For your opinion of Thanksgiving cheer."
To put it plainly,—will you tell us, please,
How you return your thanks for gifts like these?

Earth.

Or, to express it in another way,
How do you give thanks on Thanksgiving Day?

Mother (of a housewifely type, and smiling broadly).

In my opinion, if you ask of me,
When all these bounties of the earth I see,
I‘d show appreciation, I confess,
By eating and enjoying them—no less!
And every mother in this whole broad laud,
My notion of the day will understand!

Pomona (heartily).

I understand! Naught can more joy afford
Than to preside o‘er a Thanksgiving board!

Mother and Pomona (sing together; air, "Solomon Levi").

A mother‘s soul is full of joy, a mother‘s heart is gay,
When the children all come trooping home to spend Thanksgiving Day.
And the mother‘s face is smiling bright, with honest pride aglow,
When she views her tempting pantry shelves, with goodies all a-row!
Big batches of doughnuts and pumpkin pies she makes;
Nut cake and pound cake and cookies, too, she bakes;
She roasts the ducks and turkeys and makes jellies, jams and creams,
Her puddings are perfection and her Angel cakes are dreams;

She makes such soups and sauces and such salad and soufflée.
No wonder all the family comes to spend Thanksgiving Day!

Grandmother.

All true, my daughter, but, remember, too,
Beside the family welcomed home by you,
A wider hospitality it shows
If you add friends and neighbors unto those;
Invite them all,—aye, as the good Book states,
Welcome the stranger that‘s within thy gates.

Earth.

Yes, Grandmother, you‘re right,—and to my mind,
To share our blessings shows a spirit kind;
True hospitality to all who come
Shows gratitude for gifts of Harvest Home.

Grandmother and Earth (sing; air, “When the Swallows Homeward Fly”).

In the days of long ago,
Sleigh-bells jingled o‘er the snow;
Neighbors flocked from far and near,
Joining in our homely cheer.
Tables groaned ‘neath savory load,
Blazing logs on hearthstones glowed,
Hospitality‘s glad sway
Ruled the old Thanksgiving Day.

Father.

Now, that‘s all very well. But, I declare
You women-folks don‘t seem to know or care
Where these things come from. Let me tell you now,
Unless somebody drives a busy plow,
Prepares the earth and plants the proper seeds,
And digs and rakes and hoes and pulls up weeds,
And cultivates the soil with judgment wise.—
You won‘t have any pumpkins for your pies!

And I should say the way for us to show
The gratitude that we most surely owe
To Nature and to Nature‘s God for these
Rich gifts,—that both the eye and palate please,
Is to replant our garden every year,
And so bring forth anew the harvest cheer.

Time.

That‘s right, sir. I agree. As all men know,
You cannot harvest what you do not sow.
And your appreciation is well shown
In each successive harvest you have grown.

Son.

And yet excuse me,—Time,—I‘m young, you know,
But I am not content merely to grow
A crop or harvest for myself,—nor heed
The greater question of the country‘s need.
And other countries, luo. Sir, I maintain
We should conserve our foodstuffs and our grain,
A Food Administrator there should be
Marked by wise judgment and efficiency.
By business methods such as these, I‘ll say,
We‘d show our gratitude in proper way.

Ceres.

Young man, you‘re in the right, it seems to me;
With all you‘ve said I heartily agree.
I‘d gladly see the fields of golden grain
Conserved with care for mankind‘s good and gain.

Ceres and Son (sing; air, “A Life on the Ocean Wave”).

See the golden wheatfields wave,
And the scarlet poppies blow;
‘Tis the sun and rain that gave
Such glory here below.
The cornfields green and fair,
The buckwheat and the rye,
Thrive in the shimmering air,
‘Neath the blue midsummer sky.

See the grain fields wave and toss
O‘er the acres far and wide;
A gold that knows no dross
Adorns the countryside.
Such bounty year by year,
Is given to the earth,
And Autumn‘s harvest here
But heralds Spring‘s rebirth.

Grandfather.

Aye, aye, my children, ‘tis a glorious sight,
The waving cornfields in the sunshine bright.
And I, who now am old and full of days,
Reverently offer up my thanks and praise
To the great Giver,—to our God above,
Who well deserves our thanks and praise and love.

Grandfather sings, with Peace and Plenty (air, “America”).

Our fathers‘ God to thee,
All thanks and praises be
For Harvest cheer;
To thee our thanks we bring,
To thee our praises sing
For thou art God and King
Of all the year.

Girl. (who has been quietly listening).

Now, if you please, I have a word to say.
You‘ve missed the meaning of Thanksgiving Day!
For all the rich abundance of this store
You have expressed your pleasure o‘er and o‘er.
And, mother,—you and grandmother make claim
Thanksgiving dinner is its end and aim!
Father,—and brother,—you more crops would raise.
Grandfather, your heart‘s full of prayer and praise.
And all these things are right,—but I still say
You‘ve missed the meaning of Thanksgiving Day!

Time. (‘‘amused‘‘).

Tell us, my child, what you have in your mind.

Earth. (‘‘a little cynical‘‘).

Yes, tell us what new-fangled way you find
To celebrate this Festival of cheer.

Ceres.

Yes, tell us! I‘d be very glad to hear.

Pomona.

A bright young thing like you will surely know
Some better way your gratitude to show.

Girl.

Indeed I do! And yet, what‘s in my head
In no way contradicts what has been said
Ry these, my elders. They‘re all right, you know,
But I a little further want to go.
You all agree
And this is what I mean,
Thanksgiving Day a day of thanks should be.

All.

Thanksgiving Day a day of thanks should be.

Girl.

That‘s logical enough. And yet I find
A further bit of logic in my mind.
Thanksgiving Day‘s a day of thanks, ‘tis true;
But is it not a day of giving, too?
Thanks-giving Day! When that phrase you have heard,
A day of thanks uses but half the word.
Let‘s use the rest! You see? a day of giving!
Isn‘t that so? As truc as that you‘re living!
And while in gratitude you praise and pray,
Your Thanks Day should be also Giving Day,
You see the point,—you understand, I‘m sure;
Give of your bounty,—give it to the poor.
Give food and clothing,—give them coal and wood,—
Give them———
Oh, give them anything that‘s good!

Fill a big basket from your storeroom shelf
And carry it to somebody yourself!
Give jellies to the sick,—flowers to the sad,—
Give anything that will make some one glad;
Give a cash present to a needy friend,
Don‘t be afraid that such things will offend,—
For, if the spirit of the gift is right,
You‘ll find ‘twill be accepted with delight.
Get busy at this giving,—every one!
There‘s so much giving waiting to be done!
Let every one of us pick out some way
To put the "Giving" in Thanksgiving Day!

ALL (sing in chorus; air, “My Maryland”).

We‘ve found the meaning of the word,
Giving Day, Thanksgiving Day!
By gratitude our hearts are stirred,
Giving Day, Thanksgiving Day.
Let us do all that we can do,
To make some others grateful, too,
And may it he for me and you,
Giving Day, Thanksgiving Day.

Again into our lives has come
Giving Day, Thanksgiving Day.
Once more we sing our Harvest Home,
Giving Day, Thanksgiving Day.
Thanksgiving is our theme, you know,
And while our thanks to God we owe,
We owe our giving here below,
Giving Day, Thanksgiving Day.

(Attendants bring in baskets, and the characters on the stage fill them from the stores of harvest. While thus engaged, they sing; air, “Old Black Joe.”)

We all agree with what we‘ve just now heard;
We have all learned the meaning of the word;

Thanksgiving Day means thanks to God above,
And giving cheer to those on earth who need our love,
Thanks-giving, Thanks-giving, make up Thanksgiving Day;
Give thanks to God and gifts to mortals, Thanksgiving Day!

curtain