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Show 72 humiliating experience, even above wearing it shamefacedly to school every day, rushing to get it off, came when I was seven, Little Bo Peep in a school play. Mama made me a darling costume with a full skirt and the bustle sides identified with Bo Peep, a bodice with criss-crossed black lacings just like the book. A flop had and a shepherd's crook completed the outfit. I shed my coat the minute I got in the drafty old hall, but the teacher, Miss Wetmore, made me put it back on. "You'll catch cold. It is a long time before you go on stage. I'll let you know when to take it off. " Alas, I trusted her, but she was almost beside herself directing everybody to be in their places and getting the little girls, who have notoriously small bladders, back from the privy in time. I was still standing in the wings in my bearskin coat when I heard my cue. I rushed onto the stage and said my line, and was reminded of my costume by the "Whah! Whah! " from the audience. When I chased Boy Blue off the stage I shed my winter coat and grabbed my crook, but couldn't find my hat. This was my second appearance as an actress, but I also flubbed the first one. I was one of the three maids of honor, red, white, and blue, to sit at the feet of the Goddess of Liberty on the Fourth of July before I was three. All I had to do was be dressed in red and sit through the Declaration of Independence delivered oratorically by Jim Petersen, the mixed chorus singing the Blue and the Gray, Nettie Parker singing |
