So the setting of the Masque takes form according to its nature (as indicated by the Ground Plan opposite page 69, and by the worded description in the front of this volume). And so, as the dramatic architect by his design shapes the conditions for the coöperation of the composer, he shapes also the conditions for the coöperation of the scenic producer—in this case, Robert Edmond Jones, whose fresh and fertile genius becomes in a production as significant for the eye as the creative ardor of Arthur Farwell does for the ear. In the following pages, each of these representative artists describes briefly his distinctive approach and viewpoint toward the ensemble production. As well as may be in brief space, we hope thus to suggest—for all who read the Masque with a view to its performance on however simple a scale—something of our own feelings for the right creative and interpretive approach to this fresh field, in which we are planning to coöperate personally in at least some one production of “The Evergreen Tree.” In the pioneering attempt of this Masque, my own purpose is to dramatize community singing—for conditions of our own time, especially in America, during this new, formative period which the world war has begun. In other lands and ages of folk art, community song has been dramatized, as it can only be dramatized vitally, by artists moved by the spirit of religion; and relics of such forms still survive amongst us in rituals of the churches. But these rituals necessarily have attained their growth—nobly classic at their best, at their worst—dully disintegrated. Now new forces of an age religiously urgent for democracy demand a re-creation of the forms of folk art, plastic to the living currents of the new time. These currents, though continuous from the past, widen now between strange banks and other horizons; though perennial, they require fresh coördination. The carol, for instance, and the ballad—old forms of folk art—survive with us only in their archaic appeal. We in America cannot hope or wisely desire to revive them for what they once were—spontaneous expressions of continuous communal life in villages and peasant heaths, for that life has gone from us, not to return. But we can do this—and in so doing, give them new life. We can relate them definitely to a form of art for us still living and indigenous—to the drama, and essentially to that community kind of drama which is but now beginning its renascence of world forms portentous for the future. So in “The Evergreen Tree,” perhaps for the first time, I have embodied the acted carol and the acted ballad as structural parts of a dramatic unity—a communal dramatic unity, to which the forms of folk music are allied and essential.