In the Great Green Room: The Brilliant and Bold Life of Margaret Wise Brown(6)

In the summers when they went to visit their cousins in Virginia and Kentucky, it was common for the children to sleep on huge screened porches designed to capture cooling night breezes. It was routine for Margaret to be the center of attention on those nights. She stood on her cot, one in a long line crowded onto the porch, and crooned to her cousins. As they fell asleep, she told stories—some from memory, others from imagination. She could make up a story about almost anything they asked her to. She knew a great deal about a great many things and enjoyed spouting trivia on a variety of topics. If anyone doubted her, she told them she knew it to be so because she had read it in The Book of Knowledge.

*

Margaret’s best friend, Jayne Thurston, had a father who was a famous magician. Playing at their house was always an adventure because he liked to test his latest illusions on the neighborhood children before performing in front of a paying public. It wasn’t unusual for his crew to parade giraffes, monkeys, and elephants up and down the streets. Teatime there once included a fake cobra that slithered across the table and poured their tea, and the girls often dressed up in glitzy stage clothes in the warehouse where theatrical props were stored. Deadly pets also were kept there, including a lion. Margaret was astonished by its sheer size as he paced in his cage. She had seen a lion in the zoo, but this enormous beast was close enough to touch. Jayne’s father also let them hold a lion cub, and that moment filled Margaret with awe. The warm tenderness and soft fur of the small beast was like holding a living toy.

One day, Margaret, Roberta, and Jayne found a dead bird at the edge of the forest, and it was Margaret who decided they should hold a funeral for the unfortunate creature. She dispatched Roberta to gather the other neighborhood children while she and Jayne headed to the Brown house to collect a Bible and shovel.

Margaret held the oversized Bible as she led the children back to the edge of the woods. None of them had ever been to a funeral, but Margaret instinctively knew what to do. They dug a small hole and then lined it with ferns from the woods. They wrapped the bird in leaves and placed it into the ground. Margaret read a passage from the Bible, and another child said a prayer. They sang a sad song, then covered the grave. On top, they placed flowers collected from the field, and Margaret spoke for the group. She promised they would return every day, bring new flowers, and always remember the poor little creature. And for a few days, they did, until the warm days of summer made them forget.





Three

1924–1927

Up in a cherry tree in the sun

The cherries ripened one by one.

Big red cherries, there they hung

And I ate them in the sun.

Some were yellow, some were red

And birds were singing round my head.

On their stems they hung

And I ate them one by one.

Spring was late, I couldn’t wait.

“RED CHERRIES”

Mouse of My Heart


When Margaret turned fourteen, her father’s work required that he move to India for two years. Maude would live with Bruce, and they would send their girls to Chateau Brillantmont, an exclusive boarding school in Lausanne, Switzerland, that catered to upper-class families from around the world. Placing Margaret and Roberta in Europe would make it easier for Maude to visit on school breaks and for the three of them to tour different countries over those two years.

Maude and her daughters bought matching hats for their passport photos and planned an excursion for the weeks preceding the start of school. They would shop and dine in Paris. In Italy, they would see museums in Florence and the Vatican in Rome. Their house was sold, and the possessions Margaret held so dear were placed into storage along with the family’s furniture. It seemed a good trade-off for the adventures that lay ahead. Margaret wanted to see more of the world.

Her parents showed her a catalog from Brillantmont that featured photographs of smiling girls hiking the Alps and skiing on the nearby slopes. It promised trips to foreign cities and museums. Classes were taught solely in French, which thrilled Margaret. It was her best subject. Cooking classes in haute cuisine and patisserie baking were offered in a state-of-the-art kitchen.

This was supposed to have been a grand adventure. Within days, though, Margaret was miserable. She missed her parents and was unaccustomed to the discipline of the school. The adventures promised in the school’s brochure were mostly for older girls. At fourteen and twelve years old, respectively, Margaret and Roberta were relegated to the section of the school for younger students. Almost every moment of their lives was chaperoned, regulated, and demanding. This suited the studious Roberta, but Margaret longed for her days of freedom on Long Island.

On daily walks along Lake Geneva, Margaret had to keep pace with the girl in front. Their teacher insisted they stay in a straight line. Like the other students at Brillantmont, Margaret wore a pleated plaid skirt and a white blouse accented by a small scarf. These outdoor trips should have been the bright spot in her day, but instead they felt like torture. On this outing, they walked from the main chateau-style hall of the school, past terraced gardens overflowing with flowers. Wild cherry trees burst into bloom on the hillside, and as they neared the water’s edge, the calls of crew masters to their rowing teams broke the silence that enveloped the girls. Not once did the teacher stop and invite her students to take in the wonder around them. Rigid order was far more important. Margaret knew that if she lagged or stepped out of line, she would be forced to sit alone in the front hall after evening classes again. The swinging pendulum of the antique clock on the wall would be her only entertainment as its hands counted down her punishment with a constant ticktock.