The Sultan's Beard

Growing up I had one doll, and I just adored her. She had long, real looking, shiny brunette hair, and only one outfit, but that didn’t matter to me. I was just thrilled to have a doll I could call my own.
After school one day my older brother Warren and I became somewhat concerned, because we had remembered that there was going to be a Fancy Dress Party (Costume Party) at the Town Hall that evening. Everyone at school had been abuzz about it, talking about the elaborate princess, pirate or fairy costumes they would be sporting.
As soon as Dad came home from work we pounced on him, letting him know of our plight, and our strong desire to attend. We only had about an hour to get ready. We whined sufficiently about all the kids at school whose parents had been planning and making their costumes for weeks, and we worked really hard at looking sad and pitiful.
Dad got that faraway look in his eyes that said "wait a minute.....I think we can do something here." He sprang into action like a madman. It was obvious he had ideas. First he went to the linen closet. There he pulled out a couple of white sheets. "Rip..........RIP..........rip" Soon he was draping them all around my brother, and asking him if he’d like to be a Sultan. No time for answers. His children weren’t going to have the common everyday costumes that everyone else would. Next he found a long narrow silk scarf to tie around the Sultan's waist, and a braided band to go around his headdress. All he needed now was a sword or a cutlass and Warren remembered he had a plastic one somewhere, so off he went to look for it. With all this being done in about 10 minutes, I was beginning to feel like we could pull this off.
Dad turned to look at me, and the little thinking cloud above my head had pictures of fairies, ballerinas and sparkling princesses in it. But Dad had other things in mind.....time was of the essence.
He quickly grabbed a long taffeta skirt and a white lacy blouse, and bunched them up in the back so they fit. Then he took a mauve woolly shawl and draped it around my shoulders, pinning it together with a big red brooch. Not knowing what I was becoming, Dad boldly announced "You’re going to be a Granny!" Before I could protest, he had slipped an outdated purse on my arm and put some old spectacles on my nose. "Aha....one more thing" he said. The next thing I knew he was pulling all my hair up into a bun on the top of my head. His masterpiece was done. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that being a Granny was probably last on my wish list. But, oh well....we were feeling lucky enough just to go, so off we went. I secretly kind of hoped my friends wouldn’t recognize me.
In the car I looked over at my brother and his face was different, yet somehow strangely familiar. I looked closer at his chin and what did I see but MY DOLL’S FRINGE! (bangs) Somehow he didn’t think he looked fierce enough, so he took the liberty of cutting the fringe (bangs) off my doll and gluing it onto his chin. I was so mad that I told him I’d never speak to him again. He couldn’t believe that I was so upset, because he said he thought the doll looked just fine without her fringe (bangs).
I must have forgiven him, because we were always best buddies no matter what. We both got a lot of attention that night because while there were lots of princesses and pirates at the party, there was only one Sultan and one Granny.

A picture of Myself and Warren before the Fancy Dress. Warren wrote the little story below.

Written by Hilda August 31, 2006
(I was probably eight years old and Warren ten years old at the time of this story...approximately 1958)