The Diviners by Margaret Laurence

mind. She likes the same ones being there all the time. The Mothers of Salem Bringing Their Children to Jesus –a whole lot of ladies dressed in white sheets, with little kids scampering around, and Jesus (also ina white sheet and with that lovely-looking beard) lifting one hand as he suffers them ( suffers? ) to come unto Him. The Good Samaritan –an old guy in a blue and yellow striped dressing gown (sort of), leading a donkey on which is lying, draped across it, a very skinny guy who has closed eyes and terrible wounds pouring with blood . The Loaves and the Fishes –a huge big mob of people, men with different coloured beards black or blond, women carrying babies, lots of kids running around all over the place, and the Apostles looking really worried, but Jesus looking not worried at all, not by a long shot. He is standing there cool as a cucumber and raising one hand in the magic way and at his feet are two baskets, one with a few hunks of bread and the other with a few tiny fishes, and in a moment there will be a zillion loaves and a whole seaful of fishes because He can do anything.
    Mrs. McKee is talking to the Sunday school principal, at the front of the room. Morag slides in the door and waits. Mrs. McKee turns. Smiles.
    “You’re early this morning, Morag.”
    Morag nods.
    “Can you c’mere for a second, Mrs. McKee? Please.”
    “What is it?” Mrs. McKee walks to where Morag is standing.
    Morag hands the piece of scribbler paper to her. The poem is copied very neatly in best writing.
    The Wise Men.
    by Morag Gunn.
     
    VERSE ONE
    Despite the cold and wintry blast,
    To Bethlehem they came at last.
    And there amid the hay and straw,
    The baby Jesus was what they saw.
     
    “Why, this is just fine, Morag. I never knew you wrote poetry.” Surprised.
    “Sure. I write lots. I’ve got more at home. And stories. Would you–”
    “The only thing,” Mrs. McKee says, “is that it was a Far Eastern desert country, dear, so they wouldn’t have a wintry blast, would they?”
    Morag’s face–flames of shame. She snatches the paper back. “Wait–I’ll fix it.”
    She goes into the classroom where the tables and chairs are set out for each class. Sits down. Finds a pencil.
     
    Despite the desert sun’s cruel ray
    To Bethlehem they came that day.
     
    No good. It was night.
     
    Despite the heat of the desert (what?)
    To Bethlehem they came that night.
     
    Bright? White? Light? Might? Bite? Of course. Bright and light. Never mind the weather.
     
    Guided by the Star’s bright light
    To Bethlehem they came that night.
     
    Good. Fine. Much better. Morag goes out and hands the new version to Mrs. McKee. Who looks at it. One quick glance.
    “Much better, dear. Now we’d better get ready for the service. Sit with your class, dear.”
    The others have all come in while Morag was busy. She has not noticed them until this very instant.
    “Whatcha’ doing, Morag? Writing out I must not tell a lie four hundred times for the old bag?” Jamie Halpern, his face giggling behind his glasses.
    Morag says nothing. Crumples the page and stuffs it in her pocket.
    The singing. Carols. Morag sings loudly, loving the carols.
     
    Good Christian men rejoy-oy-oyce
    With heart and soul and voy-oy-oyce–
     
    When they get to the line Ox and ass before Him bow , Ross McVitie puts a hand to his bum. Morag glares at him. Ignorant slob.
    In class, Mrs. McKee tells them that one member of their class will be chosen to sing A SOLO at the grown-ups’ Christmas Eve service, and all of them will be in the choir. They will have to try out, those who want to be considered for the solo. They gather around the piano, the five who want to try, Morag among them. She has a good voice. Clear and can carry a tune perfectly. Also, a carrying voice. Christie says she would’ve made a good hog-caller, but he is just ignorant. They each sing a verse of “Once in Royal David’s.”
    “I’ll let you know next week,” Mrs. McKee says, “when