MARIANNINA

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 50, 21 May 1927, Page 26 (Supplement)

MARIANNINA

If you take a map of Europe and spread it out before you, one of the first countries to catch your eye will be a piece of land shaped like a long-legged high-heeled boot. This is the country of Italy, and here is a story about a little girl who lives there. Her name is Mariannina. Some day you may visit the little village which is Mariannina’s home, and then you will see how pretty it is. Some of the houses are painted a bright pink and in the evening time, just as the sun goes to bed behind the Carrara Mountains, making the distant peaks all rosy in the sunset glow, the houses of the village seem to match the mountains and the sky. Mariannina is a very busy little ■] girl, for when she is not at school she ; is minding four younger children. She 1 comes in the middle of a very large 1 family of brothers and sisters. Their 1 hard-working mother has her hands c more than full and depends a gfleat 1 deal upon Mariannina’s help. While s her mother, and the two big brothers 1 work in the fields, Mariannina prepares and cooks the bean soup and chestnut r cakes for the evening meal. \ Tiny Tomasino, who is jus’t begin- t ning to toddle, follows his sister around trying to help in his own funny little r way. Sometimes he begs for one of fc the little chestnut cakes as Mariannina v takes them out of the ashes where they | are baked. j o

These cakes are called Castagnacci, and they are made from the bright brown chestnuts, which must be gathered as soon as they are ripe. After they have been put into thick linen bags and beaten out of their prickly cases, they are placed on slats of wood across the rafters. In Mariannina’s home there is a small room with a fire right in the middle of the floor. There is no chimney, so when the fire burns there is a great deal of smoke, but nobody seems to mind. As soon as the chestnuts have been dried in the heat of the fire Guido, Mariannina’s big brother, will take them to the mill where they will be ground into flour. Then Mariannina or her mother will mix some of the sweet flour with water and shape the dough into cakes. One evening, when the village was •looking its pinkest and prettiest, Mariannina was standing at the door with her baby sister in her arms waiting for her father to come home. But on this particular evening it was a motorcar that came along the road, with two , ladies and a gentleman inside. They j stopped to inquire the way to the j large villa of the Marchese, which f stands some distance back from the ‘ road leading to the village. "I think , we must have passed it,” said one of ‘ the ladies, smiling at Mariannina. t The little girl smiled back and explained that they would have to turn back and go through the big iron gates with the cypress trees on either side. “What a beautiful picture,” said the t other lady, looking at Mariannina with t

the baby in her arms. “Have we time to wait just a moment,” she said, turning to her friends in the car. "I should so like to take a snapshot.” “All the time we need,” answered the gentleman. “Take all the pictures you wish. That is, of course, if the little girl is willing.” As a matter of fact. Mariannina thought it great fun. When she realised that the baby and she were to be put in a picture, she asked if she should put on the dress she has for feast days. The lady shook her head. “I like you just as you are,” she said. But Mariannina coaxed to be allowed to fetch her mother’s best silk handkerchief to tie round her head, and when the lady gave in and the little girl appeared with the bright orange-col-oured square over her dusky hair everyone exclaimed. “Now I need my paints and a canvas,” said the lady with the camera. “A photo will never do this justice.” However, one or two snapshots were taken, and many questions were asked. When the motor-car drove away, it was with the understanding that Mariannina’s new friend would return one day and paint a picture of the little girl and her baby sister.