Little Women Lines--Jo

Start of the show

Start of the show

Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents.

Beth: We’ve got father and mother and each other.

We haven’t got father and shall not have him for a long time. Perhaps nev--

Meg: Shh! It is going to be a hard winter for everyone with the war on. We ought to--

Make our little sacrifices gladly?

Amy: Well I’m afraid I don’t.

Come on, we have to work! We have to make fun for ourselves!

Jo takes up a “weapon” and perhaps a costume piece or two. She is now the dreaded pirate, Captain Bartholomew.

Surrender you mutinous scum, or I’ll send you all to Davy Jone’s locker!

Beth: He most certainly is NOT!

An epic, daring, sea battle occurs, various objects around the attic suddenly become weapons. Beth falls first.

No!

Beth: Go on without me!

Soon it becomes clear that Jo is, indeed outnumbered and as she begins to falter, the small band of pirates dissolves into the giggling of girls in an attic.

Now we can all stop our moaning.

Amy: Jo! Don’t whistle, it’s so boyish!

Amy! That’s why I/ do it.

Amy: I detest rude/ unladylike girls!

And I hate affected niminy-piminy chits!

Beth (singing): Birds in their little nests agree!

Jo begins to hand out props or create the general theatrical scene

No more sea battles, we have to get on with the important stuff. Where were we, I think Act 3? The witch appears in the castle hall! Coming to free the lovers and finish Hugo!

Beth: Are you going to write this story into your book as well, Jo?

I haven’t yet, but I may. We’ll see how the public responds to it on stage first!

Beth: You must put it in your book! It’s a lovely fairy tale. You’re such a wonderful writer!

I hope so, it’s the only thing I’m good at. Can’t sew, or bake beautifully like you. Or play the piano the way you do. My only hope is to become a fabulous writer, then I will bring the March family back into a stately state. Christmas will be like the old days.

Amy: Were there very many presents?

One year the sock I hung near the fire place fell down, it was crammed with so many presents!

Amy: Oh, alright, but it’s practicularitally unbearable.

I’m telling you, when I’m published I’ll fix it. We’ll have more money than we know what to do with.

Beth: It’s not just about money, Jo. People should read your stories.

Alright! Alright! I’ll put it in the book.

Meg: Josephine, it’s true. You possess a wonderful imagination, but Amy’s right, you’re too old to be boyish, you should remember you are a young lady.

(Ignoring her sister) Here Meg, you play Hugo. Amy you can be the witch.

Amy: I don’t want to be the old witch!

Maybe I’ll make her turn into a princess later.

Amy: Fine.

Beth do you want to be the lady or the knight, I am happy to let you choose, although I would really like it if you played the Lady. It’s not that I don’t like her, she’s noble enough, but I really like having a sword. Beth? Which one? Beth?

Beth stares out the window into the snow.

Beth, is there a problem?

Beth: No there’s a boy. In the big house.

Oh how jolly.

Amy: Like a prince’s chariot!

Nonsense. He looks like a capital fellow.

Amy: A fine little gentleman, indeed.

They watch for a moment. Suddenly Laurie turns his attention from below directly toward the window and all four little faces staring at him. They all notice this. They all react a second too late. Like a tiny waterfall, all girls heads duck down toward the attic floor.

(Amid laughter/with other women) We’re sunk!

(After chatter ceases) Blast!

Meg: Well, perhaps he’ll be at the New Year’s Dance.

I had almost forgotten about that worthless party!

Meg: I hadn’t! What shall we wear?

What’s the use asking that? We shall wear our poplins. We haven’t got anything else.

Meg: If only I had silk!

The silk industry is abhorrent, Meg, they use slaves, and little children in their factories.

Meg: But-

No. Oh drat!

Meg: What?

I forgot, my Poplin is burnt. In the back.

Jo continues to hide the back of her skirt. This is a small weird pantomime, the results of which are backing directly into Laurie who is also hiding himself from the crowd.

Oh! I didn’t--I didn’t know--

Laurie: Don’t mind me, hide here if you like.

Will I disturb you?

Laurie: No, I--I only came here because I don’t know many people and I felt...rather strange, at first, you know.

I do know.

Laurie: I think I’ve had the pleasure of seeing you before. In a window perhaps? You live near us don’t you? Next door?

Window? I...we don’t have windows. I mean. No. Yes! We do live next door. My sisters and I. And Marmee, and Hannah, and Father would but he’s away at war. Oh, and I have a pet rat who lives in the attic. His name is Scrabble.

Laurie: And how is Scrabble, Miss March?

He is extremely well, thank you Mr. Lawrence, but I’m not “Miss March,” I’m only Jo.

Laurie: I’m not “Mr. Lawrence,” I’m only Laurie.

Laurie Lawrence?

Laurie: My first name is Theodore, but I don’t like it. The fellows called me “Dora,” so I made them call me “Laurie” instead.

I hate my name too. I wish everyone would call me “Jo” instead of “Josephine.”

John: (From the other side of the party to Meg) Do you dance Miss March?

Meg takes her John Brooke’s hand. They begin to dance.

Do you dance, Laurie?

Laurie: Sometimes, but I don’t know the fashion yet here. I’ve been abroad--

Abroad!

Laurie: Yes, at school in Vevay, or spending Winter in Paris.

I would kill someone to see Paris. Do you speak French?

Laurie: Oui.

Say something.

Laurie: Quel nom a cette jeune demoiselle en les pantoufles jolis?

Alright...um...you said, “who is the young lady in the pretty slippers?”

Laurie: Oui, mademoiselle.

That’s my sister, Meg.

Laurie: Ah.

Do you think she’s pretty?

Laurie: Yes. She’s very pretty. She dances like a lady.

You should see her tromp around as Sir Hugo, if you think she’s such a lady.

Laurie: Sorry?

Nothing. I suppose you’re going to college soon.

Laurie: Not for a year or two. I’m only sixteen.

How I wish I was going to college!

Laurie: I can’t see myself enjoying it very much. I’d much rather go to Italy and live in my own way.

What on earth is “living in your own way?”

Laurie doesn’t answer

For me...it means being a writer. I wouldn’t have to live in Italy, but I could. Or France. Or Germany. Or India!

Laurie: Do you write, then?

All the time! I’m writing my first novel, actually!

Laurie: Aren’t you marvelous? A lady writer.

I know it sounds impossible.

Laurie: No, there are a few lady writers.

Only a few.

Laurie: I might not make a fool of myself in a fast dance, will you come?

No.

Laurie: Oh. I understand.

No! It’s not you. I can’t.

Laurie: Too clumsy? Will you trip over everything?

Stop it! No. I have a trick of standing too close to the fire and I burn my frocks.

She shows him the burn on her dress.

You can laugh. It’s funny.

Meg: Jo, help, I’ve sprained my ankle.

I knew you would hurt your feet in those silly shoes!

Meg: I can hardly stand.

I don’t see what you can do but get a carriage or stay here all night.

Meg: Stop being silly about Laurie.

Jo enters the scene.

Stop being silly about everything, featherhead.

Amy: Pincushion!

Pipsqueak!

Meg: Honestly!

It’s no use going on about a boy.

Amy: Yes. But maybe we will have those things someday, Meg.

Well, I don’t plan to wait around on my soft behind for it! No offense, Meg.

Meg: What in the world are you going to do now?

Going for exercise!

Meg: You were out for two walks already this morning!

I can’t stay in all day dozing by the fire like a pussycat.

Pilgrim 4 as Laurie somewhere else on the stage. Jo comes around.

How do you do! Are you sick?

Laurie: A cold. Been cooped up all day! It’s dull as tombs in here!

Have someone come see you then!

Laurie: There isn’t anyone I would like to see. Boys makes such a row.

Isn’t there some nice girl who’d read and amuse you?

Laurie: Don’t know any.

You know me.

Laurie: So I do!

So you do.

Laurie: Will you read me something you have written?

Ha! Not a chance.

Laurie: I should like to hear it. What do you write about, anyhow?

Oh, nothing.

Laurie: Nothing?

Nothing that would interest someone lying around in bed all day. I write--I write about adventures. And danger. And who I want to be.

Scene: JO MEETS APOLLYON IN THE ATTIC.

Pilgrim 1 as Jo is all alone. She has been writing.

Sir Hugo stands, back against the precipice! His hair blows freely in the wind like a lion’s mane!

No.

Sir Hugo stands, facing the dark cave, the smell of dampness in his lungs, hair clinging to his face with beads of dew and sweat.

Quietly, without warning, like a figure emerging from hell, the witch appears…

Meg: Jo!

Marmee, help!/ Oh

Beth: (Also appearing in the attic) Marmee’s not here. She went to bring food to the Hummels, some of the children are sick and they’re hungry. I want to go over later to help her.

That’s--I don’t really need Marmee, Beth, I was just startled. You’re always with the Hummels.

Meg: It’s terrible. And so good of you and Marmee to be so kind. Jo, I came to ask you what on earth we are going to do about your gloves for the evening.

Oh, that’s right. /I’ve soiled mine with coffee.

Meg: I can’t, dear, because you aren’t invited.

Meg! Sh!

Amy: You’re going somewhere with Laurie!

You can’t go, Amy, so don’t be a baby!

Amy: Are you going to the theatre?/ Please let me go!

/No, Amy, Laurie didn’t get you a seat. It would be rude to ask him to pay for another one! You’re so worried about being fashionable. Even Marmee told you you’re getting conceited.

Amy: But I want to go with you and Jo and Laurie!

No! Amy, you’re acting like a spoiled little child!

Meg: Suppose we take her, I’m sure it would be alright.

If she goes I shan’t! Come on, Meg!

Beth: Alright. We’ll be downstairs if you need us.

Beth exits

Amy stares at the manuscript Jo left behind

she picks it up and exits

a little time passes

perhaps we hear merriment of Jo and Meg coming home

Jo and Meg enter the attic.

Imps and elves and princes and princesses!

Meg: It’s just the sort of thing you write about! Did you like it?

Perfect play.

Meg: Laurie is kind to have taken us.

Yes. Well he’s a good chap.

Meg: Yes.

The fairy queen was beautiful. I want a fairy queen in my stories. I think she can get Sir Hugo out of his current scrape with the witch.

Meg: Well, I’m going to bed.

I always mean to go to bed, and then I stay up all night writing. I have so many ideas! Late at night, Meg, I have absolute fits of writing. And I give myself up to it with entire abandon. My imaginary world is full of friends as real and dear to me as any in the real world.

Meg: You will be a writer, Jo. I know it.

I hope so. I don’t know if I’m any good.

Meg: What? But-

I know. I write all the time, and I don’t know if I’m any good. Isn’t that funny? But I want it, Meg. I want it to be good.

Meg: Jo. You will be a writer.

I hope you’re right. I want to publish it. Then I could buy you things, Meg! I can get you new lace gloves whenever you want!

Meg: Get yourself gloves! Or stop drinking coffee.

If I stopped eating and drinking everything I spilled I would be down to dry bread and water. Plus, father will be proud.

Meg: Of what?

My book.

Meg: Of course he will be.

Do you…

Meg: Yes, I know so. He’ll absolutely beam when he comes home from the war to his published authoress.

No, do you know where it is?

Meg: Where is what?

My book!

Meg: Where did you leave it?

Here. Beth? Amy?

Beth: (Emerging into the attic) Did you have just a magical time? Were the lights bright, did they make your eyes tired?Were the actresses lovely?

There was a fairy princess, Beth! You’ll see her when you go next week with Amy and Hannah. Her curls are so, so bountiful, abundant, they were... beautiful.

Beth: Your hair is beautiful.

Ha, my hair is my ONE beauty. No, she’s the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. I want to write her into my story.

Beth: Sir Hugo and the fairy princess!

Amy enters the attic

That’s-- I want to but I can’t find my manuscript. Has anyone taken my book?

Beth/Meg: No.

Amy?

…

Amy? Do you have it?

…

Amy, you’ve got it!

Amy: No I haven’t!

You know where it is then!

Amy: No I don’t!

That’s a fib!

Amy: It is not! I haven’t got it!

You know something about it. Tell me! Tell me or I’ll make you!

Amy: I burnt it!

All action halts

I burnt it up.

You burnt it up? My little book? Amy I, have been working on it for months. I-I was hoping to have finished it before father got home-from fighting. Did you really? Did you really burn it up?

Meg: Oh, Amy.

You are wicked. I’ll never write it again. And I’ll never forgive you.

Laurie: I’ll skate up around the first bend and see if it’s alright.

Why should you get to go scout out the ice?

Laurie: Because I’m the gentleman and you’re the lady.

Ha, so you say. You’re just scared you will lose again. You want to get a good look at the ice before we race.

Laurie: That’s funny, I remember you losing.

Yesterday I beat you by a nose three times in a row.

Laurie: Did we decide that was true? Because I seem to recall being undefeated all Winter. It’s my superior masculine strength. And natural affinity for ice skating.

You’re a rascal. I’ll go scout the ice to make sure it’s safe.