A LITTLE PRINCESS
by Frances Hodgson Burnett
INT: A GARRET UNDER THE ROOF AT MISS MINCHIN'S.
Sara is alone in her room with her doll, Emily.
There isn't any party left, Emily-there isn't any princess-there's nothing left but the prisoner in the Bastille.
(Head down and cries softly)
I won't cry.
(To table with Emily)
I'll go to bed and sleep. I can't pretend any more to-night.
(Blows out candle)
I wish I could.
(Going to bed)
I'll go to sleep and perhaps a dream will come to pretend for me-
(Takes off shoes-in bed)
I'll suppose a little to make it easier. Suppose there was a bright fire in that grate-with lots of little dancing flames-suppose there was a soft rug on the floor and that was a comfortable chair-and suppose the attic was furnished in lovely colors-
(Voice becomes dreamy)
And suppose there was a little table by the fire with a little hot supper on it-and suppose this was a beautiful soft bed with white sheets and fleecy blankets and large downy pillows-suppose-sup-p-ose-sup-o-se-
(Falls asleep. Sara wakes slowly, sees the
wonderful change and is bewildered)
What a nice dream. I feel quite warm.
(Stretches out arms, feels blanket dreamily)
I don't want to wake up-
(Trying to sleep)
Oh, I am awakening.
(Opens eyes, sees everything-thinks she is dreaming)
I have not wakened. I'm dreaming yet.
(Looks around smiling, bewildered but waking)
It does not melt away-it stays. I never had such a dream before.
(Pushes bedclothes aside, puts feet on floor, smiling)
I am dreaming, it stays real-I'm dreaming, it feels real.
(Moves forward, staring about her)
It's bewitched, or I'm bewitched.
(Words hurrying themselves)
I only think I see it all. But if I can only keep on thinking it, I don't care, I don't care.
(Sudden outburst of emotion. Sees fire and runs to it)
A fire, a little supper.
(Kneels at fire-hands before it)
A fire I only dreamed wouldn't be hot.
(Jumping up, sees dressing-gown and slippers)
A dressing gown!
(Holding it to face then putting it on)
It is real-it is, it must be. It's warm, it's soft.
(Puts feet in slippers, cries out)
Slippers-they are real too. They are real, it's all real. I am not-I am not dreaming.
(Sees books on cushions. Runs to them.)
(Opens one, turns over leaves rapidly)
Some one has written something. Oh, what is it?
(Runs to lamp. Reads aloud)
"To the little girl in the garret, from a friend."
(Clasping book to her breast, grabs up Emily and hugs her)
Oh Emily, oh papa-
Papa, I have a friend, I have a friend!