 William Collins and Argo present Little Women, written by Louisa May Alcott, read by Glenda Jackson. Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents, Grumble Joe. It's so dreadful to be poor, Sidemenc. I don't think it's fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things and other girls nothing at all, added little Amy. We've got father and mother and each other, said Beth contentedly. The four young faces brightened at the cheerful words, but darkened again as Joe said sadly. We haven't got father and shall not have him for a long time. Nobody spoke for a minute, then Meg said in an altered tone. You know, the reason mother proposed not having any presents this Christmas was because it is going to be a hard winter for everyone and she thinks we ought not to spend money for pleasure when our men are suffering so in the army. But I don't think the little we should spend would do any good. We've each got a dollar and the army wouldn't be much help by our giving that. But I do want to buy the romance of Undine and Sintrum for myself, said Joe, who was a bookworm. I plan to spend mine on new music, said Beth with a little sigh. I shall get a nice box of Faber's drawing pencils. I really need them, said Amy decidedly. Mother didn't say anything about our money, said Joe and she won't wish us to give up everything. Let's each buy what we want and have a little fun. I'm sure we work hard enough to earn it. I know I do, teaching those tiresome king children nearly all day when I'm longing to enjoy myself at home, Meg complained. You don't have half such a hard time as I do, said Joe. Shut up for hours with a nervous, fussy old lady who worries you till you're ready to fly out of the window or cry. I think washing dishes and keeping things tidy is the worst work in the world. My hands get so stiff I can't practice the piano well at all, said Beth. I don't believe any of you suffer as I do, cried Amy, for you don't have to go to school with impertinent girls who plague you if you don't know your lessons and laugh at your dresses and your father if he isn't rich. Don't peck at one another, children, said Meg. Don't you wish we had the money papar lost when we were little, Joe? Dear me, how happy and good we'd be if we had no worries. But I think we are happier than many others. Though we do have to work, we make fun for ourselves and are a pretty jolly set, as Joe would say. Oh, Joe, does use such slang words, observed Amy. Joe immediately sat up, put her hands in her pockets and began to whistle. Don't, Joe, it's so boyish. That's why I do it. I detest rude and ladylike girls. I hate affected, nimony, pimony chits. Birds in their little nests agree, cried Beth, with such a funny face that both sharp voices softened to a laugh and the pecking ended for that time. Like many other families throughout America during the dark days of the Civil War, the four March sisters were getting ready for Christmas in the absence of their father. Margaret was sixteen and very pretty, with large eyes, plenty of soft brown hair, a sweet mouth and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen-year-old Joe was very tall, thin and brown. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose and sharp grey eyes which appeared to see everything and whereby turns fierce, funny or thoughtful. She was round-shouldered, had big hands and feet, a flyaway look to her clothes and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly shooting up into a woman and didn't like it. Her long, thick hair was her one beauty. Elizabeth or Beth, as everyone called her, was a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl of thirteen with a shy manor, a timid voice and a peaceful expression which was seldom disturbed for she seemed to live in a happy world of her own. Amy, the youngest, was a regular snow maiden with blue eyes and a purple complete. Ready to continue?