the confusion on every hand, the children could only agree.
In one corner dancers danced. In another singers sang (and Abbie and Barnaby and Fredericka's father was one of them). On the stage jugglers juggled and acrobats sprang. Several stars of stage and screen sat here and there, looking important and waiting their turn.
And around and among and between these wandered the director, talking every minute and giving orders, with his secretary at his elbow taking down every golden word.
Abbie had wondered if their presence would pass unnoticed and whether she should have included something about this as part of her wish. But luckily there were some child actors waiting to rehearse in one of the sketches, and she and Barnaby and John and Susan and Fredericka sat with these and tried to look like child actors, too.
Fredericka attempted to make friends with the child actors, but they were too busy combing their hair and complaining about their costumes and listening to their mothers' advice about how to steal the audience's attention from the other child actors and made little reply.
And then Abbie said "Shush" as her father appeared on the stage with some of the other singers. And even Fredericka quieted down.
The number that was being rehearsed was a song by a famous rock 'n' roll star. While the star squirmed and writhed and sang (if you could call it that), four men singers swayed back and forth behind him and hummed or uttered nonsense syllables to a counter melody. This is what is known in musical circles as a vocal background.
Looking at the stage, Abbie had to admit that her father was the shortest man on it. But he looked the nicest, too.
And then, because one of the chords sounded wrong, the director had each of the quartet sing his part alone, while the rock 'n' roll star fidgeted and bit his nails and looked bored.
The words of the vocal background were not edifying.
"Chickadee tidbit, chickadee tidbit,
Skedaddle skedaddle pow!"
the men warbled in turn, on different notes and in different voices.
But when Abbie's father's turn came, his voice rolled out so deep and rich and true that her heart ached with love, and she was sure the important people would discover how wonderful he was right then and there, without any help from the magic at all.
This did not happen. All the director said was, "O.K. Take it straight on from there."
So Abbie held the book tight and wished the important part of her wish. What she wished was that the important people would discover her father tonight before the show was over.
"I'll let you know when," she told the book.
At that moment the director's assistant appeared at the children's elbow. "All right, kids, get up there," he said. "It's time for your bit now." And the child actors trooped obediently stageward.
"You, too," he added, as Abbie and the others remained in their seats. The five children looked at each other, shrugged, and followed the crowd.
Exactly what the act was that they were supposed to be a part of, Abbie and Barnaby and Fredericka and Susan and John never knew. Apparently the child actors were expected to crowd around the rock 'n' roll star and ask for his autograph. But Abbie and Barnaby and Fredericka and Susan and John had no interest in his autograph, or him either, and they didn't know what lines to say or where to stand, and they were afraid any minute Abbie's father, who was still on stage, would recognize them.
So they stayed as far away from the rock 'n' roll star as they could and huddled together and hid behind each other and bumped into the other child actors and got in their way until the scene was one of utter confusion, and the director pushed around what hair he had in a frenzy.
"What do you kids think you're doing up there?" he shouted. "No, I mean you.
You
five." Then he started counting. "I didn't order that many kids. Those five must be gate-crashers. How did they get in here?"
Everyone in the studio now turned to look at the five
In one corner dancers danced. In another singers sang (and Abbie and Barnaby and Fredericka's father was one of them). On the stage jugglers juggled and acrobats sprang. Several stars of stage and screen sat here and there, looking important and waiting their turn.
And around and among and between these wandered the director, talking every minute and giving orders, with his secretary at his elbow taking down every golden word.
Abbie had wondered if their presence would pass unnoticed and whether she should have included something about this as part of her wish. But luckily there were some child actors waiting to rehearse in one of the sketches, and she and Barnaby and John and Susan and Fredericka sat with these and tried to look like child actors, too.
Fredericka attempted to make friends with the child actors, but they were too busy combing their hair and complaining about their costumes and listening to their mothers' advice about how to steal the audience's attention from the other child actors and made little reply.
And then Abbie said "Shush" as her father appeared on the stage with some of the other singers. And even Fredericka quieted down.
The number that was being rehearsed was a song by a famous rock 'n' roll star. While the star squirmed and writhed and sang (if you could call it that), four men singers swayed back and forth behind him and hummed or uttered nonsense syllables to a counter melody. This is what is known in musical circles as a vocal background.
Looking at the stage, Abbie had to admit that her father was the shortest man on it. But he looked the nicest, too.
And then, because one of the chords sounded wrong, the director had each of the quartet sing his part alone, while the rock 'n' roll star fidgeted and bit his nails and looked bored.
The words of the vocal background were not edifying.
"Chickadee tidbit, chickadee tidbit,
Skedaddle skedaddle pow!"
the men warbled in turn, on different notes and in different voices.
But when Abbie's father's turn came, his voice rolled out so deep and rich and true that her heart ached with love, and she was sure the important people would discover how wonderful he was right then and there, without any help from the magic at all.
This did not happen. All the director said was, "O.K. Take it straight on from there."
So Abbie held the book tight and wished the important part of her wish. What she wished was that the important people would discover her father tonight before the show was over.
"I'll let you know when," she told the book.
At that moment the director's assistant appeared at the children's elbow. "All right, kids, get up there," he said. "It's time for your bit now." And the child actors trooped obediently stageward.
"You, too," he added, as Abbie and the others remained in their seats. The five children looked at each other, shrugged, and followed the crowd.
Exactly what the act was that they were supposed to be a part of, Abbie and Barnaby and Fredericka and Susan and John never knew. Apparently the child actors were expected to crowd around the rock 'n' roll star and ask for his autograph. But Abbie and Barnaby and Fredericka and Susan and John had no interest in his autograph, or him either, and they didn't know what lines to say or where to stand, and they were afraid any minute Abbie's father, who was still on stage, would recognize them.
So they stayed as far away from the rock 'n' roll star as they could and huddled together and hid behind each other and bumped into the other child actors and got in their way until the scene was one of utter confusion, and the director pushed around what hair he had in a frenzy.
"What do you kids think you're doing up there?" he shouted. "No, I mean you.
You
five." Then he started counting. "I didn't order that many kids. Those five must be gate-crashers. How did they get in here?"
Everyone in the studio now turned to look at the five
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