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Little Women by Louisa May Alcott Read by Stephanie Poppins Chapter One Playing Pilgrims Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents,
Grumbled Jo lying on the rug.
It's so dreadful to be poor,
Sighed Meg,
Looking down at her old dress.
I don't think it's fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things and other girls nothing at all,
Added little Amy with an injured sniff.
We've got father and mother and each other,
Said Beth contentedly from her corner.
The four young faces on which the firelight shone brightened at the cheerful words,
But darkened again,
As Jo said sadly.
We haven't got father,
And shall not have him for a long time.
She didn't say,
Perhaps,
Never,
But each silently added it,
Thinking of father far away where the fighting was.
Nobody spoke for a moment,
Then Meg said in an altered tone.
You know the reason mother proposed not having any presents this Christmas was because it's going to be a hard winter for everyone.
She thinks we ought not to spend money for pleasure when our men are suffering so in the army.
We can't do much,
But we can make our little sacrifices,
And we ought to do it gladly.
But I'm afraid I don't.
Then she shook her head and thought regretfully of all the pretty things she wanted.
But I don't think the little we should spend would do any good.
If each got a dollar in the army,
It wouldn't be much help by us giving that.
I agree not to expect anything much from mother or you,
But I do want to buy undying citron for myself.
I've wanted it so long,
Said Jo,
Who was a bookworm.
I plan to spend mine on new music,
Said Beth with a little sigh,
Which no one heard but the heart brush and kettle holder.
I shall get a nice box of Faber's drawing pencils.
I really need them,
Said Amy decidedly.
Mother didn't say anything about our money,
And she won't wish us to give up everything.
Let's each buy what we want and have a little fun.
I'm sure we work hard enough to earn it,
Cried Jo,
Examining the heels of her shoes in a gentlemanly manner.
I know I do,
Began Meg in that complaining tone again,
Teaching those tiresome children nearly all day when I'm longing to enjoy myself at home.
You don't have half such a hard time as I do,
Said Jo.
How would you like to be shut up for hours with a nervous,
Fussy old lady who keeps you trotting?
She's never satisfied and worries you till you're ready to fly out of the window or cry.
It's naughty to fret,
But I do think washing dishes and keeping things tidy is the worst work in the world,
Said Beth.
It makes me cross and my hands get so stiff I can't practice well at all.
Then she looked at her rough hands with a sigh that anybody could hear that time.
I don't believe any of you suffer as I do,
Cried Amy.
You don't all have to go to school with impertinent girls who plague you if you don't know your lessons and laugh at your dresses and label your father if he isn't rich and insult you when your nose isn't nice.
If you mean libel,
I'd say so and not talk about labels as if pa was a pickle bottle,
Advised Jo,
Laughing.
I know what I mean and you needn't be certifical about it.
It's proper to use good words and improve your vocabulary,
Returned Amy with dignity.
Don't peck at one another,
Children.
Don't you wish we had the money pa lost when we were little Jo?
Dear me,
How happy and good we'd be if we had no worries,
Said Meg,
Who could remember better times.
You said the other day you thought we were a deal happier than the King children,
For they were fighting and fretting all the time in spite of their money.
So I did,
Beth.
Well,
I think we are,
Said Jo.
Though we do have to work,
We do make fun for ourselves and are a pretty jolly set.
Jo does use such slang words,
Observed Amy,
With a reproving look at the long figure stretched out on the rug.
Jo immediately sat up,
Put her hands in her pockets and began to whistle.
Don't,
Jo,
It's so boyish.
That's why I do it.
I detest rude,
Unladylike girls.
I hate affected,
Niminy-piminy chits.
Birds in their little nests agree,
Sang Beth,
The peacemaker,
With such a funny face that both sharp voices softened to a laugh,
And the pecking ended for that time.
Really,
Girls,
You are both to be blamed,
Said Meg,
Beginning to lecture in her elder sisterly fashion.
You are old enough to leave off boyish tricks and to behave better,
Josephine.
It didn't matter so much when you were a little girl,
But now you're so tall and turn up your hair,
You should remember you're a young lady.
I'm not,
And if turning up my hair makes me one,
I'll wear it in two tails till I'm twenty,
Cried Jo,
Pulling off her net and shaking down her chestnut,
Meg.
I hate to think I've got to grow up and be Miss Marsh and wear long gowns and look as prim as a China aster.
It's bad enough to be a girl anyway,
When I like boys' games and work and manners.
I can't get over my disappointment in not being a boy.
It's worse than ever now,
For I'm dying to go out and fight with Papa,
And I can only stay at home and knit like a pokey old woman.
Then Jo shook the blue army sock till the needles rattled like castanets and her ball bounded across the room.
Poor Jo,
It's too bad but it can't be helped,
So you must try to be contented with making your name boyish and playing brother to us girls,
Said Beth,
Stroking the rough head at her knee with a hand that all the dishwashing and dusting in the world could not make ungentle in its touch.
As for you,
Amy,
Said Meg,
You are altogether too particular and prim.
Your ears are funny now,
But you'll grow up like an affected little goose if you don't take care.
I like your nice manners and refined ways of speaking when you don't try and be elegant,
But your absurd words are as bad as Jo's slang.
If Jo is a tomboy and Amy a goose,
What am I,
Please?
Asked Beth,
Ready to share the lecture.
You're a dear and nothing else,
Answered Meg warmly.
And no one contradicted her,
For the mouse was the pet of the family.
As young readers like to know how people look,
We will take this moment to give them a little sketch of the four sisters who sat knitting away in the twilight while the December snow fell quietly without and the fire crackled cheerfully within.
It was a comfortable old room,
Though the carpet was faded and the furniture very plain.
For a good picture or two hung on the walls,
Books filled the recesses,
Chrysanthemums and Christmas roses bloomed in the windows,
And a pleasant atmosphere of home peace pervaded it.
Margaret,
The eldest of the four,
Was sixteen and very pretty,
Being plump and fair,
With large eyes,
Plenty of soft brown hair,
A sweet mouth and white hands,
Of which she was rather vain.
Fifteen-year-old Jo was very tall,
Thin and brown,
And reminded one of a colt,
For she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs,
Which were very much in her way.
She had a decided mouth,
A comical nose and sharp grey eyes which appeared to see everything and were by turns fierce,
Funny or thoughtful.
Her long thick hair was her one beauty,
But it was usually bundled in a net to be out of her way.
Round shoulders had Jo,
Big hands and big feet,
A flyaway look to her clothes,
And the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman and didn't like it.
Elizabeth,
Or Beth,
As everyone called her,
Was a rosy,
Smooth-haired,
Bright-eyed girl of thirteen,
With a shy manner,
A timid voice and a peaceful expression.
Her father called her Little Tranquility,
And the name suited her excellently,
For she seemed to live in a happy world of her own,
Only venturing out to meet the few whom she trusted and loved.
Amy,
Though the youngest,
Was a most important person,
In her own opinion at least.
A regular snow maiden,
With blue eyes and yellow hair curling on her shoulders,
Pale and slender,
And always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of her manners.
What the characters of the four sisters were,
We will leave to be found out.
