The Straw Hat

 

The Straw Bonnet 

 July 12 , 1811

 

What a day I’ve had. It was frightening but exciting too, and I want to write in my diary all about it.

 

My father, who is called Thomas Day makes and sells straw hats.  He has a shop on Whitechapel Road, here in the east side of London.  He made me a very pretty bonnet, and although it isn’t my birthday until November,  this hat was my early present.  It is plaited straw with a brim which turns up, and a bunch of cloth cherries above it. It has a red ribbon tie.   If Father had been selling it, he would have asked 5 shillings for it. 

 

So being a nice day, I put on my best dress, and my new bonnet and went outside to see if I could impress the neighbours.  Hardly any one was about, but I did notice a lady up the road, and she seemed to be looking at me, and sort of beckoning me.  I know not to talk to strangers, but somehow she didn’t seem like a danger to me.  She had a very pretty face, with wild brown curly hair, although her dress was dirty and torn. 

 

“Who’s a pretty girl then?” she asked.

 

“Thank you, kindly,” I replied, “but it is my new hat that makes me pretty.  My father made it for me, and it is for my birthday present.” 

 

“I’ve seen your da’s shop on the main street,” she said.  “He makes very fine hats. I would love to have one. Could I try yours on?”

 

I suddenly became nervous.  “No,” I said stoutly.  “I don’t think he would like it.”

 

“Don’t fret, pretty girl,” she said, and then said she particularly liked the cherries on the brim. “Do you fancy some cherries” she asked.

 

“I love cherries, and I know they are just perfect this year. Do you have some?”

 

“Not on me, but I can get some. Follow me down to the market on Greenfield Street. They are bound to have some.”

 

Greenfield is only two short streets away, and I did want some cherries.  Maybe she worked at the market and sold cherries.  Maybe she would give me some. 

 

She continued the conversation as we went down the path.  “My name is Rebecca.  What’s yours, Luv”

 

“Maria.  It’s my Momma’s name too.”

 

“Do you have brothers and sisters?”

 

“Yes, Samuel and Sarah are twins. They are four. And baby Thomas is two.”

 

“Your Momma must be very busy with all you children  to care for.  Do you go out to play on your own a lot.”

 

“In the summer. In the autumn, I will go back to school.  I can read and write very well.”

 

“I remember how much I enjoyed reading when I went to school. But I only got to go until I was 10.”

 

We were near the market now.  “Why don’t you sit on this bench,” she said, “and I will get us some cherries.”

 

So I did what I was told. The market wasn’t too busy. It was about half past two  and some of the stall holders had already gone home. Most people go in the early morning to get the best quality food.  After a few minutes, Rebecca came back with a handful of cherries. She didn’t have them in a bag or anything.

 

“Here” she said, “try these.”  So I did and they were just as delicious as I knew they would be. It didn’t take long for us to finish the bunch.  I licked the juice off my fingers.

 

“Now, I have done something nice for you, haven’t I?” she said.  

 

“Yes, thank you they were very tasty.”

 

“Now it’s your turn to do something nice for me.”

 

“I haven’t got any money,” I said.

 

“Just let me have try on your bonnet,” and she started undoing the bow. “No” I shouted, but she continued doing it and before long she had the bonnet in her hands.

 

I started crying, and as a nearby woman wondered what was happening and came up to us, Rebecca started running off down the street.  I was so upset.  I cried and cried. Before long there were several people including our local constable, Mr. William Johnson.

 

“What’s the matter here,” he said, and the woman said that a hussy had stolen my bonnet and run off down Greenfield Street. “She’s young and sprightly, with dark curly hair,” said the woman. “She’s called Deborah,” I added.

 

So he started off down the road, and before long caught sight of a young woman who had seemingly stopped to catch her breath. So he chased on and after half a mile or so, he caught up with her, and got the bonnet back.  He told us that he  said,  “You strumpet, how dare you strip a child in the road.” 

 

She apparently said nothing but came back with Mr. Johnson. My Dada had now arrived so he delivered Rebecca  up to him.

 

Father told me to go right home, and that he was going to accompany this woman to Mr. George Newbold, who is the magistrate.  Afterwards, Pa told me that Rebecca said nothing in her defence, and was taken in charge and put in jail. 

 

Mr. Newbold kept hold of my bonnet which had been tossed and torn over the last period so wasn’t looking new and shiny like before. I don’t even know if I want it back.