“You have to be the Moon because you’ve got light hair,” replied Nyoda in a tone of finality.  “You’ll just have to manage so the stool doesn’t turn, that’s all.  Try it again.”

Moon rose over the trees and accomplished the difficult feat of holding the stool still and beaming at the same time with a fair degree of success, and the rehearsal began.

“Oh-Pshaw, you’re forgetting to salute!” called Nyoda when Second Soldier had finished his speech.  “There, that’s all right, now don’t forget to do it the next time.  Now you get behind the Moon and hold her up through the next scene.  She’s wobbling again.  What comes next?  Oh, yes, here’s where I come in.”

Throwing down her prompting book and setting the partially cocked hat upon her head, Nyoda made a flourishing entrance upon the stage as the Father of her Country, and the second touching scene of the drama was enacted, in which George is informed by the sentry that “we ain’t got no flag to fight this here Revolution with,” and soothingly promises to “see Betsy.”  Just as George was delivering his reassuring promise Trees felt a fly walking across her nose and sneezed a tremendous sneeze, sending Guns sprawling upon the floor.

“Gracious, Hinpoha, can’t you hold still a minute?” sighed Nyoda, pushing the hat up from her left eye where it had hung ever since she had knocked it crooked returning the sentry’s salute.  “And who’s going to work our ‘Quick Curtain’ there?”

“Oh, either Slim or the Captain can draw the curtain for us,” said Hinpoha.

“But we want it all to be a surprise for them,” Sahwah reminded her.  “They’re not supposed to know anything about it.”

“Well, grandmother can draw the curtain, then,” said Agony.

“But she’s supposed to be in the audience, too,” objected Oh-Pshaw.

“Why, you can draw the curtain, you’re not doing anything at the end of this scene!” exclaimed Nyoda triumphantly to Oh-Pshaw.  “Second Soldier goes out after his one speech and doesn’t come on again.”

“I’m a rocking chair in the last scene, though,” Oh-Pshaw reminded her.

Nyoda thought deeply for a moment.  “We’ll have to do without that one rocking chair in the last act.  You’ll have to draw the curtain.  No show is complete without a quick curtain at the end.  How can we have curtain calls without a curtain?  Anyway, we don’t need three rocking chairs, two are plenty.”

So Oh-Pshaw good-naturedly shifted her role from rocking chair to curtain puller.

“Next scene, home of Betsy Ross,” proclaimed Nyoda.  “Trees, you’ll have to turn into a chair in this scene, and More Trees, you turn into another chair.  Guns, you will become a spinet and a spinning wheel respectively, and Moon, you’ll turn into a table.  First Soldier, you’ll become Betsy Ross.  Now then!  All the stage settings get in place for the last scene!”

The two chairs solemnly began to rock back and forth on their heels, causing the Spinning Wheel to go off into fits of uncontrollable laughter, and Betsy Ross, hearing George’s knock, rose to answer it, but, catching sight of the two rocking chairs, promptly doubled up on the floor instead of letting George in.