Peanut-Butter Pilgrims Read online

  “I’ll bet he went home to feed his turkey first,” said Mary Beth.

  Mary Beth was right. Far down the street the Scouts could see Sonny coming. He had a red dog leash in his hand. At the end of the leash was his turkey, Tiger.

  “You can’t bring a turkey to a Scout meeting!” cried Tim.

  “Mrs. Peters, if Sonny can bring his turkey to Scouts, can I bring my cat?” asked Lisa.

  Mrs. Peters held up her hand. “No pets allowed,” she said firmly. “Except my dog, Tiny, who lives here, and our mascot, Lucky.”

  “Arf! Arf!” said Tiny.

  “Yip! Yip!” said Lucky.

  The dogs ran in a circle. Sonny ran toward them with his turkey. Wings flapped and feathers flew. Lots and lots of feathers.

  The dogs got very excited.

  “You have to take him home,” said Rachel. “No pets allowed.”

  “I’m sorry, Sonny, but you’ll have to leave him outside,” said Mrs. Peters. She made sure that Lucky and Tiny stayed inside.

  “That’s all right,” said Sonny cheerfully. “Tiger lives outside.”

  Sonny tied the red leash to a tree in Mrs. Peters’s yard. “Good boy,” he said to the turkey. “You just lie down and take a nap and wait for me. I’ll be out to get you in a little while.”

  Tiger the turkey shook his feathers. “Gobble, gobble,” he said.

  “After a while I’ll show you some tricks he can do,” said Sonny. “Hey, can I get a badge for teaching Tiger tricks?” he asked Mrs. Peters.

  Mrs. Peters looked doubtful. “I don’t think there is a badge for turkey tricks, Sonny.”

  “The Scout book says there is a badge for building a birdhouse,” Sonny went on. “If I build a house for Tiger, can I get that badge?”

  “I’ll help!” shouted Roger.

  “Me too!” said Kevin and Patty.

  Mrs. Peters got out the Pee Wee Scout handbook. Sure enough, Sonny was right. There was a badge for building a birdhouse, and a turkey was a bird. The Scouts gathered around Mrs. Peters and looked at the picture.

  “It will be a pretty big birdhouse,” said Kenny. He laughed. “Too big to hang in a tree.”

  “It doesn’t say it has to be in a tree,” said Sonny. “It just says it has to be built for a bird.”

  “My dad will help us,” said Patty.

  “Let’s start now,” said Roger.

  “Not now!” said Mrs. Peters. “You will have to work on that badge on Saturday. Today we are going to plan the Thanksgiving play.”

  The Pee Wees sat in Mrs. Peters’s living room. She told them about the Pilgrims and the hard time they had getting food the first winter. She told them about the Indians, and about the first harvest and the first Thanksgiving.

  Molly felt like crying, it was so sad. Those poor Pilgrims, in a new land without food.

  “Why didn’t they go to the grocery store and buy food?” asked Tim.

  “Dummy,” said Tracy. “Where would they get money? There was no money then.”

  “There were no grocery stores back then!” shouted Roger.

  “That’s right,” said Mrs. Peters. “There was nothing in America then, not even a grocery store.”

  While the Pee Wees were thinking about those long-ago days, Mrs. Peters passed out papers with the lines in the play.

  “Now, we have parts for six Pilgrims and five Indians,” she said.

  “I want to be an Indian!” shouted Roger, waving his hand in the air.

  “All right, Roger, you be Indian number one. Now, who wants to be the Indian chief?”

  “I do!” shouted Sonny.

  Roger frowned. He didn’t know there would be a chief.

  “All right, Sonny, you be the chief. And Tim and Tracy and Kevin can be the other three Indians.”

  Now the only thing left is Pilgrims, thought Molly.

  “The Pilgrim mother,” said Mrs. Peters. “Molly, will you be the mother?”

  Molly didn’t want a part at all. She couldn’t act like a real actress. She couldn’t remember lines. Once in kindergarten she was Little Bo Peep and she couldn’t cry.

  But there were eleven parts for eleven Scouts. She had to take one.

  “All right,” said Molly.

  Mrs. Peters gave the other Pilgrim parts to the rest of the Scouts.

  “Now,” said Mrs. Peters. “The important thing is to learn your lines. Take the paper home and put an X by the line you have to say. We will practice at the next meeting, and talk about our costumes.”

  The Scouts said their pledge and sang their song. The meeting was over. When the Scouts came out of the house, Tiger said, “Gobble, gobble.”

  “Did you hear that?” cried Sonny. “He said my name!”

  A Birdhouse

  for Tiger

  On Saturday, Mary Beth went over to Molly’s house. They studied their parts for the play together.

  “I know I won’t remember my lines,” said Molly.

  “It’s only one line,” said Mary Beth helpfully. “You’ll remember. I think I know mine, and it’s longer than yours.”

  The girls pretended Molly’s sun porch was a stage.

  Mary Beth explained, “When Rachel says ‘It’s a hard winter, and our food is almost gone,’ it is your turn to say your line. I’ll be Rachel.”

  Molly nodded. She felt nervous already.

  “ ‘It’s a hard winter, and our food is almost gone,’ ” said Mary Beth.

  Molly’s mind went blank.

  Blank, blank, blank.

  She couldn’t think of one word.

  “Come on,” said Mary Beth. “Say your line.”

  Molly opened her mouth to talk. She thought maybe her line would come out. But it didn’t. Nothing came out. “I can’t remember it!” she cried.

  “Your line is ‘We will pick berries and shoot a wild turkey for dinner,’ ” said Mary Beth.

  Molly and Mary Beth said the lines until they were right.

  “But I’ll forget it when we are on the stage,” said Molly.

  “No you won’t,” said Mary Beth. “I have to go home and take care of my little sister,” she added. “Walk halfway with me.”

  Molly got her jacket and cap and the girls started down the street. The lines from the play were ringing in Molly’s head.

  “Look!” Mary Beth pointed. “What’s going on at Sonny’s house?”

  Molly looked. In the open garage Sonny and Roger and Patty and Kevin all stood together. Tied outside to a clothes-pole, on his red leash, was Tiger the turkey.

  Sonny waved. “Come and help,” he called. “We’re building a birdhouse for Tiger.”

  “We can’t stay,” said Mary Beth. But the girls walked over to see how the house was coming.

  It was just a pile of boards. Old boards. Patty had a long ruler. She was trying to measure Tiger.

  “Hold still,” she told the turkey. “Can you hold him?” she asked the girls.

  It took both girls, plus Kevin and Roger and Sonny, to hold Tiger. Patty held up the ruler. Tiger didn’t want to be measured. He jumped around.

  Finally Patty said, “He is as tall as three rulers.”

  “Three feet tall,” said Roger.

  “He needs more room than that in his house,” said Sonny. “He needs room to move around.”

  “Four feet,” said Roger.

  Roger and Sonny and Kevin marked the boards. They read the directions out loud.

  “I think you should get directions for a doghouse,” said Molly. “That would be more his size.”

  “There’s no badge for building a doghouse,” said Sonny. “It has to be a birdhouse. Anyway, Tiger’s a bird, not a dog.”

  Patty was sawing the places where Roger had measured. It took a long time with Sonny’s toy saw. Soon Patty was out of breath. “We better take it to my house so my dad can help,” she said.

  The girls waved good-bye.

  “You’ll see his house on Tuesday,” called Sonny.

  On Tuesday, Son
ny and Roger and Kevin were late for the Pee Wee Scout meeting. The rest of the Pee Wees were making some old hats into Pilgrim hats.

  Suddenly there was a terrible racket outside.

  A dragging sound.

  A scraping sound.

  Drag, scrape, bump, crash!

  Mrs. Peters ran to the door.

  Tiger was tied to the tree. The boys were dragging the birdhouse up Mrs. Peters’s steps.

  “Maybe we should look at it outside,” said Mrs. Peters. “It’s too big to bring inside.”

  The Pee Wees ran outside to see the birdhouse. It was huge! Big enough for Tiny! He was a Labrador, a large dog.

  The birdhouse had one crooked window with no glass in it.

  “That’s for fresh air,” said Sonny.

  The roof was flat. Some shingles were nailed to the top.

  “The door’s too little,” said Molly. “Only a robin would fit through there.”

  “It doesn’t have to be perfect,” said Sonny crossly.

  “We forgot to change the directions for the door,” admitted Patty. “But we made the rest bigger.”

  “It’s a wonderful birdhouse,” said Mrs. Peters. “You all have worked very hard and you deserve the badge. We will give these badges out at the town hall after the play. When the parents are there to see you.”

  “Does Tiger like his house?” asked Tim.

  “He can’t get through the door,” said Sonny sadly.

  “Ho!” Rachel laughed. “What good is it if he can’t get in?”

  “He sits on top,” said Sonny. “And when it gets cold, we are going to make the door bigger.”

  The Pee Wees went back into Mrs. Peters’s house. They finished making their Pilgrim hats.

  “We’ll just wear bathrobes for the Pilgrim dresses,” said Mrs. Peters. “Unless your mother has time to make you a dress. And the Indians can just wear blue jeans, but they will have Indian headbands with feathers.”

  “I can get feathers!” shouted Sonny.

  “That would be fine, Sonny. We will dye them different colors and some of the mothers will sew them onto headbands.”

  Sonny smiled.

  “Now let’s go through our play,” said Mrs. Peters.

  The Pilgrims put their hats on. The Indians pretended they had feathers. Everyone stood in a row in Mrs. Peters’s living room.

  Molly was already nervous. “I can’t act,” she said. “I can’t remember my line.”

  “I never get nervous,” boasted Rachel. “I’m used to being onstage dancing and twirling my baton.”

  Rat’s knees, thought Molly. Why did I say I couldn’t act? Rachel will find out soon enough.

  “ ‘It’s a hard winter, and our food is almost gone,’ ” said Rachel. She spoke her line clearly.

  Mary Beth jabbed Molly in the back. “Say it,” she whispered.

  But Molly’s mind was blank again. Blank, blank, blank. All she could think of was how nervous she felt.

  “ ‘We will pick—’ ” Mary Beth prompted.

  Molly remembered! “We will pick wild turkeys and shoot a wild berry!” She blurted out the line.

  All of the Pee Wees roared with laughter. Even Molly’s best friend, Mary Beth.

  Roger jumped up and began to run around. He pretended to have an imaginary shotgun. “Shoot a berry!” he cried. “Ho, ho, pick a turkey!” Roger laughed the loudest.

  Mrs. Peters put her arm around Molly. “You just got a little nervous,” she said. “You go over your line before the play. You will do fine.”

  But Molly knew she wouldn’t do fine.

  Oh, no. I can’t act at all, she thought. I’ll ruin the play!

  At the end of the meeting, the Scouts told about some good deeds they had done. Then Mrs. Peters led them as they said the Pee Wee Scout pledge and sang the Pee Wee Scout song.

  Sometimes, thought Molly, it was no fun to be a Pee Wee Scout.

  No fun at all.

  Back to the

  Farm

  Thanksgiving got closer and closer. The play got closer and closer too. It would be on the day before Thanksgiving.

  Molly practiced her line with Mary Beth. She knew it perfectly. But when she thought of the stage at the town hall, her stomach felt like Jell-O. She was sure she would forget what to say.

  The Thanksgiving baskets were filled and ready. On the Saturday before Thanksgiving, the Pee Wees came to Mrs. Peters’s house. Mr. Peters would take the baskets to the volunteer center. The Pee Wees helped load them into the car.

  “Here’s mine!” shouted Sonny.

  “There’s Rachel’s,” said Lisa. “It’s shorter than the others.”

  “Tall or short, the people will be glad to get them,” said Mrs. Peters.

  Mr. Peters drove away with the baskets.

  Sonny had Tiger on his leash. “Do you want to see him do his tricks?” asked Sonny.

  “Ha,” said Kenny. “I’ll bet he can’t do much.”

  “Sit up!” said Sonny to the turkey. He held a cookie in his hand over the turkey’s head.

  Peck, peck, peck went Tiger. He checked the ground for food.

  “Here, boy, up here,” said Sonny.

  Some of the Pee Wees covered their faces.

  They were laughing. They didn’t want Sonny to see.

  Sonny took a cracker out of his pocket. He held it up. Just when Tiger was ready to peck at it, Sonny raised it higher. The turkey stretched his neck and grabbed the cracker.

  “See? See? Did you see him sit up?” shouted Sonny.

  “He didn’t sit up,” said Tracy. “He just stretched his neck.”

  “He sat up,” insisted Sonny. “Now watch this.”

  Sonny held up another cracker. “Speak!” said Sonny. “Come on, speak, boy!”

  The turkey stopped pecking the ground. He looked at the cracker out of one eye. “Gobble, gobble,” he said.

  “I told you! I told you!” shouted Sonny, patting Tiger on his head.

  “He’s been gobbling all along,” said Rachel. “Turkeys gobble all the time.”

  But Sonny didn’t answer. He was trying to get Tiger to roll over and play dead.

  “I have to go home and practice the piano,” said Rachel.

  The rest of the Pee Wees had to leave too. Except Mrs. Peters. She couldn’t leave. It was her house.

  “He did it yesterday,” said Sonny. “Roll over, boy.”

  Finally Sonny had to give Tiger a shove and roll him over.

  “He’s a smart turkey,” said Mrs. Peters, going into the house.

  The next Tuesday, the Pee Wees had their last Scout meeting before Thanksgiving. They practiced their play. They put the final touches on their costumes.

  The Indians tried on their headbands with Tiger’s colored feathers. Roger pretended to shoot a bow and arrow.

  “These are friendly Indians,” called Mrs. Peters. “They smoke a peace pipe and try to help the Pilgrims.”

  “I wonder where Sonny is,” whispered Mary Beth to Molly. “He is never this late for Scouts.”

  Just as the Pee Wee Scouts were finishing their cocoa and cookies, Sonny burst in the door. Tears were streaming down his face. He was crying out loud.

  “Sonny, what happened?” asked Mrs. Peters, putting her arms around him. “Are you hurt?”

  Sonny sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “It’s Tiger,” he cried. When he said the turkey’s name, Sonny began to sob all over again.

  “Did he get hit by a car?” asked Tim.

  “Is he dead?” said Roger.

  “He—he—” Sonny just couldn’t finish his sentence. He sniffled and tried again. “He has to go back to the turkey farm,” he said. “My mom says our house is no place for a turkey. She said he misses his friends. And besides, the neighbors complained about his gobbling!”

  Even Molly felt like crying now. It was awful to lose a pet. Poor Sonny!

  The Scouts all looked sad about Tiger. Still, thought Molly, Mrs. Betz should have known better than
to give in to Sonny.

  “I am sure you can go and visit him,” said Mrs. Peters. “And you will like to see him back with his friends.”

  Sonny nodded. But he was still crying. The Scouts could hear Tiger gobbling outside under the tree.

  “When is he going?” asked Patty.

  “When I get home,” said Sonny. He sniffled.

  “Maybe we could all ride along,” said Mrs. Peters. “And have kind of a send-off for Tiger.”

  Sonny’s eyes lit up. “Really?” Sonny loved a party.

  “I’ll call your mom,” said Mrs. Peters.

  Mrs. Betz said yes.

  The Scouts called home to be sure they could go along to say good-bye to Tiger. Then they all piled into two cars. Mrs. Peters drove and Mrs. Betz drove. Tiger flapped and pecked and gobbled on Sonny’s lap. Sonny hugged him tight.

  “He lost his two black tail feathers,” Molly noticed.

  “From all that flapping,” said Mary Beth.

  The girls laughed.

  When the Scouts got to the turkey farm, they marched out to the turkey field. Then Mrs. Peters gave a short speech about how lucky Tiger was to be with his friends. “He has lots to be thankful for this Thanksgiving Day,” she said.

  “Yeah, the roasting pan,” snickered Roger.

  Molly turned around and glared at Roger. “Shhh,” she said loudly. Sonny would start to cry all over again if he thought that Tiger would be someone’s dinner.

  “All right,” said Mrs. Betz. “Let him go, Sonny.”

  It reminded Molly of a TV show where they released an eagle with a mended wing.

  Sonny didn’t let go. Mrs. Betz gave the bird a push. Off he went into the crowd of turkeys.

  “You can come and see him anytime,” said Mrs. Atkins.

  As the Scouts said good-bye and walked back to the cars, Kevin said something. Something Molly had been thinking about all along.

  “He can’t visit Tiger,” said Kevin. “He won’t know which turkey is Tiger. He looks just like all those other turkeys out there!”

  It was true. Tiger was just part of the ocean of white feathers. Peck, peck. Gobble, gobble. Any one of those turkeys could be Tiger.

  Then Kevin said, “I’m not eating any turkey on Thanksgiving.”