Flashback: tales from ages past

Europe: Rags and Ribbons

Molly scurried to the kitchen. "You called, Mum?"

Cook pointed at two large baskets. "Market time. Come along." She pulled an old straw hat over her mob cap and and straying gray curls, drew a shawl across stooped shoulders, and shuffled out the door, tapping with her walking stick.

Molly donned her wrap and followed. "I found something in Madame's grate. I know I should have burned it, but look at the lettering. Isn't it grand?"

Cook turned a glance. "Thought you looked a mite guilty this morning."

"I meant to burn it after puzzling out the words, but just look. It's for that play at the churchhouse."

"Indeed."

"Tomorrow. It's tomorrow night!" Molly danced several steps. "Tomorrow's my night off, and the seat is already paid for, and Madame won't be there. That's what she was huffing at last evening. Did you hear her? She kept muttering, 'The impertinence of thinking I would deign to be seen at such an event.' "

"Don't let her hear you at mimicking," Cook ordered sternly, though there was laughter behind the words.

Molly's shoulders sagged. "But I daren't go like this." She flourished her bedraggled scullery-maid's skirts.

"Nonsense," Cook said. "It's a showing for working class women. They'll all be attired like that."

"Not this ragged." Molly looked down at her wrap, half an old blanket. "Nor bare-headed."

"Come along, child." Cook turned at the corner.

"But market is the other direction."

"A short stop along the way. My cousin is a rag-picker. She'll have what you need."

The next evening Molly stood in line with other maids and seamstresses. She could hardly keep from bouncing on her toes. She wore a bonnie little hat and a fine woollen shawl, both mended and adorned with slightly-crumpled ribbons so the stains wouldn't show. Under her arm she had tucked a reticule, not too much the worse for wear. She could smell the sweet bun wrapped up inside, mate to the dozen she had delivered to the rag-picker this afternoon from Cook's ovens.

Molly grinned at her treasure one last time. "A play," she slowly sounded out, "by Miss Car-mella Kings-bury." At last she reached the entrance to the church. To the usher she chattered, "I can barely scribble my own name, but Miss Kingsbury wrote a whole play! Someday I will write a story, too, with lettering as fancy as this."

The older lady smiled as Molly handed over the ticket to an evening's delight.

Molly is on her way to see "The Scientist Who Wanted to Touch the Sun," featured in @tyrapendragon's Wattpad saga "Bath Day."