April 9, 2025 • 15 mins
Eight girls and their dog Timmy Loo take a summer break filled with cooking, self-discovery, and hilarious misadventures in this delightful vacation story. Discover hundreds of ad-free audiobooks, soothing sounds for sleep and meditation, and more—unwind and learn at www.adfreebooks.com!
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Genius burns my hears, said Nan, as they all dwaddled
on the veranda one morning. A truly magnificent scheme is
forming itself in my fertile brain. Pray, expound and elucidate,
murmured Marguerite from the hammock, where she was lazily swaying
to and fro. Oh it's nothing much, said Nan. Only
(00:23):
that we give a play, Is that all? Said Marguerite.
I thought you meant something nice. Let's do it, cried Betty.
I just love that sort of thing. Oh, Romeo, Romeo,
Where art thou Romeo? Shall we hire the town hall?
Or wouldn't that be big enough? Inquired Helen. And don't
let's do it half way, said Marjorie. We can get
(00:47):
scenery and costumes from New York and give leglon or
faust or something worth while nonsense, said Nan. Do be quiet,
girls until I tell you what I mean. You see,
we've written such really good and funny things in the
White Cap that I'm sure we could write a little
play with songs and things and then act it and
(01:09):
it would be lots of fun. Oh you mean an opera,
said Millicent. Why, of course we could dash off an
opera any morning, just as easy as not. Come on,
let's begin. No wait, cried Nan. You don't understand, and
I won't be made fun of. I am serious, of
course you are. No one took you for a joke.
But even so you can't stop us. Now we're started,
(01:33):
and Esther grasped a pencil and, taking the white cap,
began to write time midnight scene a dark cordier. We
must have it gloomy and mysterious. It's so much more interesting, yes,
said Helen, who was hanging over Hester's shoulder. Who'll appear first, you,
(01:54):
said Hester, writing rapidly, Enter the Wandering Minstrel. Oh, I
never can. I'd be scared to death, cried Helen, who
had a way of taking things seriously. Let her be asleep,
said Marjorie. Then she won't feel embarrassed, and she's used
to walking in her sleep. You know this was true enough,
(02:14):
and Hester rewrote enter the Wandering Minstrel. Sound asleep, and
she sings to her banjo the Wandering Minstrel song. I've
something weird to tell you, twill make you crawl and creep,
for I love to harrow up your souls when walking
in my sleep tis something most appalling twill make you
(02:37):
shriek and yell. But you must not breathe a sentence
of the tale that I shall tell. The most awful
thing has happened. There's a Oh. I can't go on
with this. I don't know what happened. Somebody else finish it. No,
each must finish the song. She begins. Wind that up,
(02:58):
and then I'll write my song, said Marguerite, So hester
wrote The wandering minstrel awakens, gives a scared look over
her shoulder, and scurries back to her room. Oh that's
no fair, cried Marguerite, but Helen said, yes it is.
I'll be glad of a chance to vanish. Go on, Daisy,
(03:19):
you know I'm the chaperone of this crowd, said Marguerite,
And as such I'll relate my woes. With some assistance
from Nan. The rattle pated chaperone composed her song, The
Chaperone's Song. I am the unfortunate chaperon. I never can
call a minute my own for the girl's treat with
(03:41):
mirthful derision the precision of my kind supervision. Oh terribly
hard is my luckless lot. I'm forced to hurry from
spot to spot and then all the thanks that I
get from my trouble is that I'm completely ignored. Why
that's fine, cried Marjorie. But how can you sing it?
(04:03):
Helen has a tune to it, talking in my sleep.
You know, are we really going to sing this thing?
Said Marjorie, looking awestruck. Of course, said Nan decidedly. We'll
write the words to tunes we know, and will rehearse
the whole thing and give it some evening to an
audience composed of our friends next door and across the
(04:26):
street too, said Jesse. The Marlowe's and Hilsey's over there
are awfully nice people, and they'd love to be invited.
Don't invite your chickens before the play is hatched, said Betty.
By Daisy. You ought to do a dance with your song.
You are born subrette, I'll tell you, cried Nan. Write
(04:46):
it to the air of Carrie dance. You sing that
so prettily, and you can have a bange of accompaniment
and hop around all you like. So, with much help
from Nan and Hester, Marguerite accomplished a new chaperone song.
I'm the chaperone, gay and frisky, and the role that
I have to play is decidedly rash and risky, and
(05:10):
I know I'll slip up some day. When the girls
are all around me. I'm as state as a cup
of tea, and my prudish airs to stout me when
I think of what I can be. Oh my pudgery,
Oh my dignity. What can I be? I'm the chaperone,
gay and frisky, and the role that I have to
(05:31):
play is decidedly rash and risky, and I'll know I'll
slip up some day. Oh it's slow when we all
sit round and state, eyes cast down, and faces long
and straight, prim and stayed, our manners quite correct, all
approach to frivolousness checked. I assume a pedantic pose, but
(05:54):
at heart I feel I'm the chaperone, gay and frisky,
et cetera. Oh that's awful, pretty, cried Marjorie as they
tried it over to the accompaniment of Helen's banjo. Why
the play will be a hauling success if we keep
on like this, Indeed, it will a howling, screaming success. Now, Jesse,
(06:15):
it's your turn. Let's see what a scullery maid can
do making a song for herself. Oh, I couldn't make
a rhyme to save my life, said Jesse, with such
a scared look that everybody laughed. But you'll have to,
cried Betty. Every one of us must write our own song,
whether we can do it or not. Help me out, Nanny,
(06:35):
said Jesse, pleadingly. You're a real life poet, and you
ought to teach the art to one who is but
a lowly scullery maid. Well, we'll have a duet, said Nan,
good naturedly. I'll write it for us both, and then
you and I will sing it together. Here it goes,
Enter's scullery maid, carying under her arm a dictionary, and
(06:59):
in her hand a pad and pencil. Enter poet with
frying pan and a cake of soap. Scullery maid and
poet a duet. Where are you going, my scullery maid,
I seek inspiration, kind poet, she said, And why inspiration,
my scullery maid. I want to write verses like you,
(07:21):
she said. We'll make a good bargain, my scullery maid.
And what is this bargain, kind poet, she said? You
teach me scouring, my scullery maid, and then you can
brighten my wits, she said, that's lovely, and you two
girls can sing beautifully together, said Marjorie. But you must
(07:42):
have solos too. You're our best singers, and you can't
get off with one duet. All right, I'll write a
solo for Jesse, said Nan. It can follow right after
this duet. You know. It's to the tune of my mother,
dear Scullery Maid's song. Do you think I'm asking much
of you, my poet, I've longed to be poetic for
(08:03):
a week. My longings are intense. Did you but know it?
And now I come your kind advice to seek. Each day,
I'm rhyming dictionaries, buying, I call from the books each
sweet poetic flower. But though like any furnace, I am sighing.
(08:24):
I really can't do anything but scour, scour my poet,
scour my poet. I really can't do anything but scour.
That's gay, said Millicent. And it's specially funny for Jesse,
who is really farther removed from scullery madism than any
of the rest of us. I don't care, said Jesse.
(08:44):
I'll sing anything you want me to if I don't
have to write it. I'll right, Nan, so low volunteered Hester.
It's more fun to write each other's than our own.
This is to the tune of the burglar's song in
the Pirates Poet's Song. When the interesting poets not composing
(09:04):
or rolling round her fine poetic eye, Oh she loves
to leave her tragic muse a dozing and spend her
time in making cake and pie. But the other girls
her aspirations smother and will not let her have a
bit of fun. Taking one consideration with another, the poet's
(09:26):
life is not a happy one. Oh, she'd love to
make a salad or fritter, or even polish up the
parlor grate. Yet they must suppose she is a helpless critter,
for they bind her to her melancholy fate. They make
her pump out verses when she'd rather turn out a pie,
(09:46):
or a pudding or a bun. Taking one consideration with another,
the poet's life is not a happy one. Well, turn
about is fair play, said Nan, with fun in her eyes.
All right, Hester, solo, she's a fine stoker for our
open fire, but she can't do much with stoves. I've
(10:07):
tried her. We always have open fires in England, said Hester.
And really, girls, you don't know how much nicer they
are than your old registers and radiators. Very well, my
Royal Briton, said Nan, you shall air those national views
of yours to a small but highly appreciative audience. Do
(10:28):
you know that old tune? You should see me dance
the polka? Yes, said Hester, laughing, I've noted all my life,
tis well, said Nan. Your success as a songster is assured. Then,
amid much laughter and advice from the merry crowd, Nan
achieved this masterpiece Stoker's song. A fig for the air
(10:53):
tight furnace, a fig for the shut up stove. They
might suit the modern Stoker, but I really can't approve
a fig for the radiator. The steam heat of today
hot air pipes too may do for you. But I
don't like that way. Chorus, But you should see me
(11:16):
use the poker. You should see me shovel coal. I'm
a rattling, raking Stoker, and that's my only role. When
the fire begins a burning, I'll show you what I
can do for the rattling, rollicking Stoker will be poking
fun at you. I cannot sing the praises of the
(11:37):
gas log with its flame, although it burns and blazes,
and it gets there just the same. But when I
come in freezing and with cold, I shiver and shake.
The yule log bright with its blazing light, is the
fire that takes the cake. Chorus. Hester's well known aversion
(11:58):
to slang made this song a good joke, and it
was fully appreciated, even by the victim herself. Now let's
have a big course so we can all sing together,
said Helen. Yes, said Nan, with solos in it a
regular descriptive peace. But I can't sing, said Mellicent. Oh
(12:19):
yes you can, said Nan. I'll write your verse first.
How would that tune from patience? Go? Don't you know
about the jensiqua young man? Let's try it anyway, A
lamp lighter trim. You see, whenever you look at me,
you may sneer, you may flout, but you can't pull
(12:42):
me out, For I am as bright as can be.
Corus the cooking Club girls, we are as happy as
we can be, whether walking or writing, or skating or
sliding or sitting at dinner or tea. How absurd, said Hester.
We can't skate or slide in September. That's poetic license,
(13:05):
exclaimed Nan. Calmly. But of course you're too English to
see the joke. Well, it's a good tune, said Hester.
Let's write verses for the rest. Many heads make light work.
And though some of the girls did more than others,
all helped, and the result was this fine collection of Stanza's.
(13:25):
Oh I am the peeler, serene, though never appealing. I'm
seen the girls say I'm lazy. I think they are crazy.
There's nothing about me that's green. Corus, a camera fiend.
You see a sister to you, I'll be We're both
of us making a business of taking. I'll take you,
(13:47):
and you take me. Corus. Oh, I am the chaperone. Gay.
I sing and whistle all day, And though I don't
shirk my share of the work, I'd much rather run
out and play chorus a wandering minstrel. Eye my voice
weigh up in the sky my banjo. I am picking
(14:09):
while others are kicking, though I can't imagine why, Courus, Oh,
I am the scullery maid of kitchen work. I'm afraid
while I should be scrubbing my wits, I am rubbing
to shine in the poet's trade. Courus, it seems to
be my fate to be poet Laura rate, though I
(14:30):
always am shrinking from doing much, thinking i'd far rather
polish the grate chorus. I'm a cook of un doubted skill.
The girls praise my dishes, but still I cannot tell
why after eating my pie they always are awfully ill. Courus,
(14:52):
that's a fine chorus. Let's practice it now, said Marjorie.
So Helen played her banjo, and the girls all sang until,
to their great surprise, they found it was dinner time.
End of chapter nine
Genius burns my hears, said Nan, as they all dwaddled
on the veranda one morning. A truly magnificent scheme is
forming itself in my fertile brain. Pray, expound and elucidate,
murmured Marguerite from the hammock, where she was lazily swaying
to and fro. Oh it's nothing much, said Nan. Only
(00:23):
that we give a play, Is that all? Said Marguerite.
I thought you meant something nice. Let's do it, cried Betty.
I just love that sort of thing. Oh, Romeo, Romeo,
Where art thou Romeo? Shall we hire the town hall?
Or wouldn't that be big enough? Inquired Helen. And don't
let's do it half way, said Marjorie. We can get
(00:47):
scenery and costumes from New York and give leglon or
faust or something worth while nonsense, said Nan. Do be quiet,
girls until I tell you what I mean. You see,
we've written such really good and funny things in the
White Cap that I'm sure we could write a little
play with songs and things and then act it and
(01:09):
it would be lots of fun. Oh you mean an opera,
said Millicent. Why, of course we could dash off an
opera any morning, just as easy as not. Come on,
let's begin. No wait, cried Nan. You don't understand, and
I won't be made fun of. I am serious, of
course you are. No one took you for a joke.
But even so you can't stop us. Now we're started,
(01:33):
and Esther grasped a pencil and, taking the white cap,
began to write time midnight scene a dark cordier. We
must have it gloomy and mysterious. It's so much more interesting, yes,
said Helen, who was hanging over Hester's shoulder. Who'll appear first, you,
(01:54):
said Hester, writing rapidly, Enter the Wandering Minstrel. Oh, I
never can. I'd be scared to death, cried Helen, who
had a way of taking things seriously. Let her be asleep,
said Marjorie. Then she won't feel embarrassed, and she's used
to walking in her sleep. You know this was true enough,
(02:14):
and Hester rewrote enter the Wandering Minstrel. Sound asleep, and
she sings to her banjo the Wandering Minstrel song. I've
something weird to tell you, twill make you crawl and creep,
for I love to harrow up your souls when walking
in my sleep tis something most appalling twill make you
(02:37):
shriek and yell. But you must not breathe a sentence
of the tale that I shall tell. The most awful
thing has happened. There's a Oh. I can't go on
with this. I don't know what happened. Somebody else finish it. No,
each must finish the song. She begins. Wind that up,
(02:58):
and then I'll write my song, said Marguerite, So hester
wrote The wandering minstrel awakens, gives a scared look over
her shoulder, and scurries back to her room. Oh that's
no fair, cried Marguerite, but Helen said, yes it is.
I'll be glad of a chance to vanish. Go on, Daisy,
(03:19):
you know I'm the chaperone of this crowd, said Marguerite,
And as such I'll relate my woes. With some assistance
from Nan. The rattle pated chaperone composed her song, The
Chaperone's Song. I am the unfortunate chaperon. I never can
call a minute my own for the girl's treat with
(03:41):
mirthful derision the precision of my kind supervision. Oh terribly
hard is my luckless lot. I'm forced to hurry from
spot to spot and then all the thanks that I
get from my trouble is that I'm completely ignored. Why
that's fine, cried Marjorie. But how can you sing it?
(04:03):
Helen has a tune to it, talking in my sleep.
You know, are we really going to sing this thing?
Said Marjorie, looking awestruck. Of course, said Nan decidedly. We'll
write the words to tunes we know, and will rehearse
the whole thing and give it some evening to an
audience composed of our friends next door and across the
(04:26):
street too, said Jesse. The Marlowe's and Hilsey's over there
are awfully nice people, and they'd love to be invited.
Don't invite your chickens before the play is hatched, said Betty.
By Daisy. You ought to do a dance with your song.
You are born subrette, I'll tell you, cried Nan. Write
(04:46):
it to the air of Carrie dance. You sing that
so prettily, and you can have a bange of accompaniment
and hop around all you like. So, with much help
from Nan and Hester, Marguerite accomplished a new chaperone song.
I'm the chaperone, gay and frisky, and the role that
I have to play is decidedly rash and risky, and
(05:10):
I know I'll slip up some day. When the girls
are all around me. I'm as state as a cup
of tea, and my prudish airs to stout me when
I think of what I can be. Oh my pudgery,
Oh my dignity. What can I be? I'm the chaperone,
gay and frisky, and the role that I have to
(05:31):
play is decidedly rash and risky, and I'll know I'll
slip up some day. Oh it's slow when we all
sit round and state, eyes cast down, and faces long
and straight, prim and stayed, our manners quite correct, all
approach to frivolousness checked. I assume a pedantic pose, but
(05:54):
at heart I feel I'm the chaperone, gay and frisky,
et cetera. Oh that's awful, pretty, cried Marjorie as they
tried it over to the accompaniment of Helen's banjo. Why
the play will be a hauling success if we keep
on like this, Indeed, it will a howling, screaming success. Now, Jesse,
(06:15):
it's your turn. Let's see what a scullery maid can
do making a song for herself. Oh, I couldn't make
a rhyme to save my life, said Jesse, with such
a scared look that everybody laughed. But you'll have to,
cried Betty. Every one of us must write our own song,
whether we can do it or not. Help me out, Nanny,
(06:35):
said Jesse, pleadingly. You're a real life poet, and you
ought to teach the art to one who is but
a lowly scullery maid. Well, we'll have a duet, said Nan,
good naturedly. I'll write it for us both, and then
you and I will sing it together. Here it goes,
Enter's scullery maid, carying under her arm a dictionary, and
(06:59):
in her hand a pad and pencil. Enter poet with
frying pan and a cake of soap. Scullery maid and
poet a duet. Where are you going, my scullery maid,
I seek inspiration, kind poet, she said, And why inspiration,
my scullery maid. I want to write verses like you,
(07:21):
she said. We'll make a good bargain, my scullery maid.
And what is this bargain, kind poet, she said? You
teach me scouring, my scullery maid, and then you can
brighten my wits, she said, that's lovely, and you two
girls can sing beautifully together, said Marjorie. But you must
(07:42):
have solos too. You're our best singers, and you can't
get off with one duet. All right, I'll write a
solo for Jesse, said Nan. It can follow right after
this duet. You know. It's to the tune of my mother,
dear Scullery Maid's song. Do you think I'm asking much
of you, my poet, I've longed to be poetic for
(08:03):
a week. My longings are intense. Did you but know it?
And now I come your kind advice to seek. Each day,
I'm rhyming dictionaries, buying, I call from the books each
sweet poetic flower. But though like any furnace, I am sighing.
(08:24):
I really can't do anything but scour, scour my poet,
scour my poet. I really can't do anything but scour.
That's gay, said Millicent. And it's specially funny for Jesse,
who is really farther removed from scullery madism than any
of the rest of us. I don't care, said Jesse.
(08:44):
I'll sing anything you want me to if I don't
have to write it. I'll right, Nan, so low volunteered Hester.
It's more fun to write each other's than our own.
This is to the tune of the burglar's song in
the Pirates Poet's Song. When the interesting poets not composing
(09:04):
or rolling round her fine poetic eye, Oh she loves
to leave her tragic muse a dozing and spend her
time in making cake and pie. But the other girls
her aspirations smother and will not let her have a
bit of fun. Taking one consideration with another, the poet's
(09:26):
life is not a happy one. Oh, she'd love to
make a salad or fritter, or even polish up the
parlor grate. Yet they must suppose she is a helpless critter,
for they bind her to her melancholy fate. They make
her pump out verses when she'd rather turn out a pie,
(09:46):
or a pudding or a bun. Taking one consideration with another,
the poet's life is not a happy one. Well, turn
about is fair play, said Nan, with fun in her eyes.
All right, Hester, solo, she's a fine stoker for our
open fire, but she can't do much with stoves. I've
(10:07):
tried her. We always have open fires in England, said Hester.
And really, girls, you don't know how much nicer they
are than your old registers and radiators. Very well, my
Royal Briton, said Nan, you shall air those national views
of yours to a small but highly appreciative audience. Do
(10:28):
you know that old tune? You should see me dance
the polka? Yes, said Hester, laughing, I've noted all my life,
tis well, said Nan. Your success as a songster is assured. Then,
amid much laughter and advice from the merry crowd, Nan
achieved this masterpiece Stoker's song. A fig for the air
(10:53):
tight furnace, a fig for the shut up stove. They
might suit the modern Stoker, but I really can't approve
a fig for the radiator. The steam heat of today
hot air pipes too may do for you. But I
don't like that way. Chorus, But you should see me
(11:16):
use the poker. You should see me shovel coal. I'm
a rattling, raking Stoker, and that's my only role. When
the fire begins a burning, I'll show you what I
can do for the rattling, rollicking Stoker will be poking
fun at you. I cannot sing the praises of the
(11:37):
gas log with its flame, although it burns and blazes,
and it gets there just the same. But when I
come in freezing and with cold, I shiver and shake.
The yule log bright with its blazing light, is the
fire that takes the cake. Chorus. Hester's well known aversion
(11:58):
to slang made this song a good joke, and it
was fully appreciated, even by the victim herself. Now let's
have a big course so we can all sing together,
said Helen. Yes, said Nan, with solos in it a
regular descriptive peace. But I can't sing, said Mellicent. Oh
(12:19):
yes you can, said Nan. I'll write your verse first.
How would that tune from patience? Go? Don't you know
about the jensiqua young man? Let's try it anyway, A
lamp lighter trim. You see, whenever you look at me,
you may sneer, you may flout, but you can't pull
(12:42):
me out, For I am as bright as can be.
Corus the cooking Club girls, we are as happy as
we can be, whether walking or writing, or skating or
sliding or sitting at dinner or tea. How absurd, said Hester.
We can't skate or slide in September. That's poetic license,
(13:05):
exclaimed Nan. Calmly. But of course you're too English to
see the joke. Well, it's a good tune, said Hester.
Let's write verses for the rest. Many heads make light work.
And though some of the girls did more than others,
all helped, and the result was this fine collection of Stanza's.
(13:25):
Oh I am the peeler, serene, though never appealing. I'm
seen the girls say I'm lazy. I think they are crazy.
There's nothing about me that's green. Corus, a camera fiend.
You see a sister to you, I'll be We're both
of us making a business of taking. I'll take you,
(13:47):
and you take me. Corus. Oh, I am the chaperone. Gay.
I sing and whistle all day, And though I don't
shirk my share of the work, I'd much rather run
out and play chorus a wandering minstrel. Eye my voice
weigh up in the sky my banjo. I am picking
(14:09):
while others are kicking, though I can't imagine why, Courus, Oh,
I am the scullery maid of kitchen work. I'm afraid
while I should be scrubbing my wits, I am rubbing
to shine in the poet's trade. Courus, it seems to
be my fate to be poet Laura rate, though I
(14:30):
always am shrinking from doing much, thinking i'd far rather
polish the grate chorus. I'm a cook of un doubted skill.
The girls praise my dishes, but still I cannot tell
why after eating my pie they always are awfully ill. Courus,
(14:52):
that's a fine chorus. Let's practice it now, said Marjorie.
So Helen played her banjo, and the girls all sang until,
to their great surprise, they found it was dinner time.
End of chapter nine
Popular Podcasts
Stuff You Should Know
If you've ever wanted to know about champagne, satanism, the Stonewall Uprising, chaos theory, LSD, El Nino, true crime and Rosa Parks, then look no further. Josh and Chuck have you covered.
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Follow now to get the latest episodes of Dateline NBC completely free, or subscribe to Dateline Premium for ad-free listening and exclusive bonus content: DatelinePremium.com
On Purpose with Jay Shetty
I’m Jay Shetty host of On Purpose the worlds #1 Mental Health podcast and I’m so grateful you found us. I started this podcast 5 years ago to invite you into conversations and workshops that are designed to help make you happier, healthier and more healed. I believe that when you (yes you) feel seen, heard and understood you’re able to deal with relationship struggles, work challenges and life’s ups and downs with more ease and grace. I interview experts, celebrities, thought leaders and athletes so that we can grow our mindset, build better habits and uncover a side of them we’ve never seen before. New episodes every Monday and Friday. Your support means the world to me and I don’t take it for granted — click the follow button and leave a review to help us spread the love with On Purpose. I can’t wait for you to listen to your first or 500th episode!