The men had on the most peculiar clothes I'd ever seen: long, flowing robes that dragged to the floor; high, bespangled headgear that reached halfway to the ceiling. They looked a good bit like the kings in my storybook. That's what they were! Real live kings! But where did they come from? I jumped up to see what they would do with the pretty sparkling chests they were toting. These might be three more presents to put on the tree for somebody. No. The kings didn't even look at the Christmas tree. They lined up in a straight row in front of the sleeping baby. Then the one who wore the purple robe nodded to the one in yellow. He, in turn, cut his eyes around toward the one wearing red. All together, the three bowed themselves down to the floor and lifted up the three golden chests. I noticed that the big king men all had on regular high-top shoes just like Papa's. I looked up at their faces. "Mama! They ain't no kings! That's them bad Bailey—" "Hush!" Mama clamped her hand across my lips and pulled me down into her lap. "Tonight, hon, they're kings, the Orient Kings. You listen to Captain Jones." I had forgotten all about him. He was standing up there in front of Aunt Vic and the lamp, still reading, his white beard quivering. …they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh. Captain Jones stopped. He closed the Bible. Still, nobody moved or said a word. Then Aunt Vic gave a quick motion with her hand. The curtains went together, and such noisy scrambling and talking broke out back on the stage that both Aunt Vic and Mister Shepherd had to hurry behind the curtains to quiet the school children. "Now is it time for our presents, Mama?" "Not yet. It's time for you to go get ready for your part." "Now?" "Yes, you run on back there and find Aunt Vic. And, hon, you do exactly like she says." I found Aunt Vic, and I watched and listened as she and the schoolteacher sent the big kids out front by two's and three's to give their readings. Aunt Vic went through my piece with me again and had me whisper it to her three times. Then, right in the middle of Irene's verses about a hot Christmas pudding—and before I knew it was anywhere near my turn—Aunt Vic said I would be next. "Sugar, repeat your recitation to me one more time now, real slow." I rattled it off. "Fine! You're just about the smartest girl I ever saw!" Aunt Vic handed me Papa's rumpled hat that I had brought from home and told me to follow her. "Hold the hat out in front of you, sugar. With both hands." When Aunt Vic and I got out to the middle of the stage, she took a big breath and made her voice go high and clear. "At this time, our little walking tree will recite the old-time Beggar's Rhyme, and this will conclude our program for the evening." To me she whispered, "Now, hon, lift up your chin and say it."