The twelve passengers

A strange stagecoach drew up just as the bells were chiming midnight. Even though it was the New Year, the sentry rushed out to check on the passen­gers, twelve in number and all very strange.

The first was well dressed and must have been an important person because everyone else was watching him with an air of hopefulness. He said his name was January and then he darted off, saying that he had thousands of things to think of for the whole year. The second passenger said he knew that his life was short and his days were numbered, just twenty- eight in all, and so he wanted to enjoy himself while he could. His rowdy fun making annoyed the sentries, but he replied haughtily: “Don't you know me? I am February, the prince of the Carnival.”

Don March, the third passenger, was thin and moody. The fourth passenger pointed out the sliver of moon to March and told him it was a silver treasure, but this was obviously an April Fool's joke. To make up for it, Madam May sang one of her lovely blossom-time songs.

June and July were both dressed in summer wear and their only belong­ings were their swimming costumes. Mother August had a basket of fruit and she must have been very rich.

She was overweight and perspiring, although she claimed that she loved to go for walks in the countryside.

The ninth passenger, Professor September, was an artist renowned for his method of painting leaves. The tenth, Count October, knew all about agriculture, but his words were constantly drowned out by the sneezes of his neighbour, November, a pallid type with a constant cold.

Grandad December, the last passenger, carried with him the fir tree which at Christmas he planned to decorate with lights and tinsel.

 The sentry carefully checked all their passports and then saluted them. 'A very good year to all the Month family,' he said cordially.