The Saddle Creek Series 5-Book Bundle. Shelley Peterson

I could use it for both, couldn’t I?”

      “Yes, you could.” It seemed to Abby that they’d been friends for years. “If you had a bow and some arrows I’d have known it was Robin Hood, for sure.”

      “Then let me rectify the lack of a quiver at once.” As the ghost spoke, a dark brown leather sack appeared, slung so that he could reach over his shoulder to pull out one of the dozen handmade arrows that it contained.

      “Amazing!” Abby cried.

      “Amazing, you say? Then look at this!”

      The dressing room became a forest. A magical forest of multiple shades of green. Tree by tree it grew, until it became as dense and dark as Sherwood Forest.

      “You’re right. Mr. Brown, this is amazing.”

      “Call me Ambrose, my dear, everybody does. Mr. Brown was my father. Can’t have that.” The trees started to disappear as quickly as they had appeared. Abby stood, as before, at the long blue dressing table in the big yellow room.

      “Ambrose, what’s happening to you?”

      “I’m changing. I’m an actor, after all. Guess who I am, and don’t be too quick to jump to your conclusion, I warn you.”

      Abby studied the costume. Shakespearean, probably. An old man. A king, for sure, from the bejewelled crown that had just materialized. Ambrose’s face had become jowly and saggy. His eyelids drooped and his lips looked purple with ill health. Veins crept all over his red, bulbous nose.

      “You look altogether different.”

      “Isn’t it wonderful?”

      “You looked better before.”

      “For Robin Hood, yes, but an actor must be a chameleon if he wants to play different parts. You can’t be vain. When a part requires ugly and old, you must become ugly and old.”

      “Which you’ve accomplished beautifully,” Abby said, hoping it came across as a compliment.

      “Enough chat!” Ambrose spoke regally. “Who am I?”

      “Your Majesty,” Abby said as she curtsied. “May your humble servant offer her guess without fear of decapitation?”

      “Perhaps. We make no promises.”

      “Is Your Majesty King Henry VIII?”

      “Correct! Excellent! How did you know?”

      “Actually, I was waffling between King Lear and King John when I noticed the puffy sleeves.”

      “Muttonleg sleeves, yes. That was a good call. Otherwise, we would have proclaimed, ‘Off with her head!’”

      Abby laughed, delighted. Ambrose, meanwhile, was changing again. This time, he looked almost exactly like a large alley cat.

      “Who are you now?” asked Abby. “Mistoffelees in Cats?”

      Ambrose suddenly looked slightly alarmed. He opened his whiskered mouth and said, “People are here. See you later.” And he was gone.

      Abby was alone again. Her head was spinning. Was Ambrose real or had it been an incredible dream?

      The door opened and Joy popped her head in. “Abby! I’m so glad you’re here. Did you and Dancer have a good ride?”

      Abby stared for a split second, then snapped back into reality. “The best!” Abby’s face broke into a huge grin. “We’re ready to kick some serious butt.”

      Joy pretended to be shocked. “Watch how you say things, Abby.” She looked around the room. “Are you alone?”

      “Don’t I look alone?” Abby looked around. She wondered if Joy could see a man-sized cat.

      “I thought I heard more than one person in here.”

      “Well, actually, I was practising my lines.”

      “Wonderful. How are you doing with them?” Joy asked.

      Before Abby could answer, a loud chattering group of kids came clattering down the stairs, led by George Farrow, Lucy’s grandfather.

      “Abby! I didn’t know you were in the play!” he enthused. “So glad you are! We’ve been having such fun. You’ll love it.”

      “I’m standing in for the Blue-Winged Fairy, Mr. Farrow. And congratulations on getting the part of Geppetto.”

      “I’m trying my best, Abby, thank you. It’s not easy teaching an old dog new tricks. Has Lucy arrived yet?”

      At that moment, Lucy came hurtling down the stairs into the big room. “Abby, I heard! It’s so great you’re here! Maybe Margaret Small’s flu will turn into some horribly dire virus so you can play the Fairy for the run!”

      “Lucy,” spoke Mr. Farrow sternly. “You must not wish ill on people.”

      “I know, but wouldn’t it be fun to have Abby here all the time?”

      Abby giggled, then covered her mouth. She didn’t want Mr. Farrow to think she wished Margaret ill. “I have horrible stage fright, Lucy. I couldn’t go on even if she dies.”

      “Who’s dying?” asked Leslie, who came through the door panting. She thought she was late.

      “Nobody’s dying,” said Abby. “I was just saying that—”

      Lucy interjected. “Abby is a wimp. She’s afraid to act in front of an audience.”

      Leslie looked empathetic. “I’m just the same, Abby. If I wasn’t wearing a dog suit, I couldn’t possibly be in the play.”

      “You’re always so nice to people!” mocked Lucy humourously as she turned to get some hot chocolate from the machine. “You’re no fun at all!”

      Lucy walked smack into a tall person with the head of a fox.

      “Ahhh!” she screamed.

      “Gotcha!” laughed Sam. “Isn’t it great? Orangeville Theatre lent it to us.”

      “It’s perfect. Utterly perfect,” said Leslie to her brother. “What’s the rest of the fox costume like?”

      “I’m just going to put it on. Your Trooper outfit is over there.” Sam pointed to two long wardrobe racks that had been wheeled in.

      Lucy wasted no time. She pushed past Leslie in her eagerness to try on her costumes. She was the townsperson who pushes a cart of cheese that gets overturned in the town scene, and she wore a partial donkey outfit in the carnival scene on Runaway Island.

      “Abby! Come quick!” Lucy called, holding up a sheer blue sparkly dress with wings attached. “The Blue-Winged Fairy!”

      Abby gasped. Lucky I’m only here for two rehearsals, she thought. I’d never go out in public wearing that.

      13

      THE SECRET OF AMBROSE BROWN

      ABBY WAS ENTHRALLED. The people she went to school with and had known all her life had become different people altogether. The change occurred, she reflected, as they stepped into their costumes. Within minutes, Sam was slinking along sneakily as the Sly Fox. Leslie was so much like a dog that she was almost scratching her ears with her back leg. Mr. Farrow, even, had become a humble carpenter in his demeanor, cap in hand.

      On stage, as scene followed scene, Abby felt transported into the world of the story.

      Because this was her first rehearsal, everybody helped her. She was pushed on stage at every cue, and when she forgot what to say, someone would invariably prompt her.

      Even so, the magic of the theatre began to possess her. This