Chapter 21: Thanksgiving

This yearly festival was always kept at Plumfield in the good old-fashioned way, and nothing was allowed to interfere with it. For days beforehand, the little girls helped Asia and Mrs. Jo in store-room and kitchen, making pies and puddings, sorting fruit, dusting dishes, and being very busy and immensely important. The boys hovered on the outskirts of the forbidden ground, sniffing the savory odors, peeping in at the mysterious performances, and occasionally being permitted to taste some delicacy in the process of preparation. Something more than usual seemed to be on foot this year, for the girls were as busy up-stairs as down, so were the boys in school-room and barn, and a general air of bustle pervaded the house. There was a great hunting up of old ribbons and finery, much cutting and pasting of gold paper, and the most remarkable quantity of straw, gray cotton, flannel, and big black beads, used by Franz and Mrs. Jo. Ned hammered at strange machines in the workshop, Demi and Tommy went about murmuring to themselves as if learning something. A fearful racket was heard in Emil’s room at intervals, and peals of laughter from the nursery when Rob and Teddy were sent for and hidden from sight whole hours at a time. But the thing that puzzled Mr. Bhaer the most was what became of Rob’s big pumpkin. It had been borne in triumph to the kitchen, where a dozen golden-tinted pies soon after appeared. It would not have taken more than a quarter of the mammoth vegetable to make them, yet where was the rest? It disappeared, and Rob never seemed to care, only chuckled when it was mentioned, and told his father, “To wait and see,” for the fun of the whole thing was to surprise Father Bhaer at the end, and not let him know a bit about what was to happen. He obediently shut eyes, ears, and mouth, and went about trying not to see what was in plain sight, not to hear the tell-tale sounds that filled the air, not to understand any of the perfectly transparent mysteries going on all about him. Being a German, he loved these simple domestic festivals, and encouraged them with all his heart, for they made home so pleasant that the boys did not care to go elsewhere for fun. When at last the day came, the boys went off for a long walk, that they might have good appetites for dinner; as if they ever needed them! The girls remained at home to help set the table, and give last touches to various affairs which filled their busy little souls with anxiety. The school-room had been shut up since the night before, and Mr. Bhaer was forbidden to enter it on pain of a beating from Teddy, who guarded the door like a small dragon, though he was dying to tell about it, and nothing but his father’s heroic self-denial in not listening, kept him from betraying a grand secret. “It’s all done, and it’s perfectly splendid,” cried Nan, coming out at last with an air of triumph. “The you know goes beautifully, and Silas knows just what to do now,” added Daisy, skipping with delight at some unspeakable success. “I’m blest if it ain’t the ‘cutest thing I ever see, them critters in particular,” said Silas, who had been let into the secret, went off laughing like a great boy. “They are coming; I hear Emil roaring ‘Land lubbers lying down below,’ so we must run and dress,” cried Nan, and up-stairs they scampered in a great hurry. The boys came trooping home with appetites that would have made the big turkey tremble, if it had not been past all fear. They also retired to dress; and for half-an-hour there was a washing, brushing, and prinking that would have done any tidy woman’s heart good to see. When the bell rang, a troop of fresh-faced lads with shiny hair, clean collars, and Sunday jackets on, filed into the dining-room, where Mrs. Jo, in her one black silk, with a knot of her favorite white chrysanthemums in her bosom, sat at the head of the table, “looking splendid,” as the boys said, whenever she got herself up. Daisy and Nan were as gay as a posy bed in their new winter dresses, with bright sashes and hair ribbons. Teddy was gorgeous to behold in a crimson merino blouse, and his best button boots, which absorbed and distracted him as much as Mr. Toot’s wristbands did on one occasion. As Mr. and Mrs. Bhaer glanced at each other down the long table, with those rows of happy faces on either side, they had a little thanksgiving all to themselves, and without a word, for one heart said to the other, “Our work has prospered, let us be grateful and go on.”
from Little Men by Louisa May Alcott

The clatter of knives and forks prevented much conversation for a few minutes, and Mary Ann with an amazing pink bow in her hair “flew round” briskly, handing plates and ladling out gravy. Nearly every one had contributed to the feast, so the dinner was a peculiarly interesting ones to the eaters of it, who beguiled the pauses by remarks on their own productions.
“If these are not good potatoes I never saw any,” observed Jack, as he received his fourth big mealy one.
“Some of my herbs are in the stuffing of the turkey, that’s why it’s so nice,” said Nan, taking a mouthful with intense satisfaction.
“My ducks are prime any way; Asia said she never cooked such fat ones,” added Tommy.
“Well, our carrots are beautiful, ain’t they, and our parsnips will be ever so good when we dig them,” put in Dick, and Dolly murmured his assent from behind the bone he was picking.
“I helped make the pies with my pumpkin,” called out Robby, with a laugh which he stopped by retiring into his mug.
“I picked some of the apples that the cider is made of,” said Demi.
“I raked the cranberries for the sauce,” cried Nat.
“I got the nuts,” added Dan, and so it went on all round the table.
“Who made up Thanksgiving?” asked Rob, for being lately promoted to jacket and trousers he felt a new and manly interest in the institutions of his country.
“See who can answer that question,” and Mr. Bhaer nodded to one or two of his best history boys.
“I know,” said Demi, “the Pilgrims made it.”
“What for?” asked Rob, without waiting to learn who the Pilgrims were.
“I forget,” and Demi subsided.
“I believe it was because they were starved once, and so when they had a good harvest, they said, ‘We will thank God for it,’ and they had a day and called it Thanksgiving,” said Dan, who liked the story of the brave men who suffered so nobly for their faith.
“Good! I didn’t think you would remember any thing but natural history,” and Mr. Bhaer tapped gently on the table as applause for his pupil.
Dan looked pleased; and Mrs. Jo said to her son, “Now do you understand about it, Robby?”
“No, I don’t. I thought pil-grins were a sort of big bird that lived on rocks, and I saw pictures of them in Demi’s book.”
“He means penguins. Oh, isn’t he a little goosey!” and Demi laid back in his chair and laughed aloud.
“Don’t laugh at him, but tell him all about it if you can,” said Mrs. Bhaer, consoling Rob with more cranberry sauce for the general smile that went round the table at his mistake.
“Well, I will;” and, after a pause to collect his ideas, Demi delivered the following sketch of the Pilgrim Fathers, which would have made even those grave gentlemen smile if they could have heard it.