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Then there came a sudden flinging open of the doors and pouring in of our expected
guests, and cheering. Then together the play and the supper moved on without hitch or
halt, all of us living over again the lovely old story of the peasant-saint which has since
then seemed in a way peculiarly our own. Phoebe Crosby’s effective speaking of the pretty
verses of the prologues charmed all. Our heroine could not have been surpassed. The
plaintive tones of the old mother, the sweet songs of the minstrel, Dunois, Charles, Margot,
all, were excellent; Ruth Archbald, also, who made lightening shifts of costume to keep
up with her Proteus-like changes of character. And then when the last tableau was over,
a solemn feeling settled over us all, while Lucia Ford, wearing Jeanne’s simple brown kirtled
frock and a wreath of green leaves in her loose hair, carried the loving-cup from one to
another until the last sip had been taken and the last ‘Long may she live and thrive”’

had been sung.
GLADYS WINTHROP CHANDLER.

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