Scene I
Reading edition
[In the woods.]
October:
I am October, my fruits are mellow, My autumn leaves are red and yellow? I am October, my voice you hear On Hallowe’en, the fall of the year.
Witch:
Same old jokes on Hallowe’en, Same old pumpkins too are seen; October, with your skies so blue, Can’t you think up something new?
October:
By my side old Witch please stay, And we’ll enact a little play; Pomona, goddess of fruits, I’ll call, And she will entertain us all. Vertumnus, too, I’ll conjure here, The god he is, of the turning year!
Witch:
Ha, ha, the story I remember, He comes long before November; Though many shapes he takes to woo her, Nothing ever seems to do her Until he dons a gossip’s shoes, For truly, she is fond of news!
October:
Her attendants we’ll call without delay, For Pomona now is on her way.
[A Trumpeter appears and blows his horn, each time before a fruit or group of fruits enter.]
Apples:
Apples rosy, Apples red, See us nodding overhead; Apples rosy, round and sweet, Everywhere are good to eat.
[Dance around in couples, and line up at back of stage.]
Pears:
We are Pears, so very shy, Scarcely nodding to passersby; As we heard Pomona call, We’ll do her honor one and all.
[Dance in a circle, and line up beside Apples.]
Bananas:
We’re Bananas, spick and spandy, And you always find us handy; Ripe Bananas are so sweet, You will find us quite a treat.
[Bow to partners, circle round each other, and line up at back.]
Grapes:
Purple Grapes, in early fall, We have heard Pomona’s call; And we come in late October, For the summer hours are over.
[Join hands, skip forward and back, line up at back. Child enters with Horn of Plenty, they circle, around her, singing.]
Tune: “Coming Through the Rye.”
To the woodland we are going Late on Hallowe’en, We’ve no other way of knowing What strange sights are seen; But we bring the Horn of Plenty At this time of year, And a festival we’re keeping, For Pomona’s here.
[Pomona enters, and is seated at right; the fruits in turn go to her and bow, and the child offers her the Horn of Plenty. Many suitors now come bowing to her in turn; they offer her fall fruits and flowers and gifts, carrying them in baskets or on trays; the Knave of Hearts even comes offering her his tarts, and Simple Simon offers her a pie. Last of all comes Vertumnus, he is larger and more powerful than the rest; he simply offers her an enormous red pasteboard heart.]
Vertumnus:
Vertumnus, the god of the turning year, I come, Pomona, behold me here; Offerings are made to me in Rome, Will you share my fortunes? Pomona, come.
[Pomona waves him away with the rest of the company, and the curtain falls.]