By: Larrysgirl and Mickys411 Rated PG

"More mashed potatoes, Micky?" Asked his mom.
"Oh, yeah, I love your mashed potatoes!" Micky exclaimed as he helped himself to another big spoonful.
Micky, Mike, Peter and Davy were having Thanksgiving dinner at the house of Micky’s Mother. Usually, Micky just stopped by for a bite then went back to the pad for more turkey. This time, however, Micky's mom Janelle invited all the Monkees for dinner and would not take no for an answer. The guys really didn't want to impose on Mrs. Dolenz, but she had insisted.
The Monkees were glad they came. Mrs. Dolenz, along with Micky's three younger sisters, Coco, Debbie and Gina made them all an excellent meal.
"This food is so good, Mrs. Dolenz." Mike said.
"Thank you, Mike." She replied, "I know you boys work so hard all year, I wanted to do something for you."
"I'll bet putting up with Micky is hard work." Coco, Micky's seventeen-year-old sister, told Davy quietly.
"I heard that." Micky said, giving her a mock glare.
"Yeah, but he's a great drummer, so it's worth it." Davy replied.
Everybody except Micky laughed at that.
When the turkey had been picked clean down to the bones, Gina, who was about eight, got up from the table and brought over a pumpkin pie.
"Oh my, that's looks so good." Peter said.
"I don't know if I can eat any more." Davy said, shaking his head.
"Well, that's just more for me!" Micky laughed.
Coco began to cut the pie and serve it. Peter looked at his piece thoughtfully for a moment.
"I wonder if the pilgrims had it this good." He said.
"We've been learning about them in school." Debbie, who was about twelve, replied. "They didn't have very much to eat at first. There weren't any cows so they didn't have milk or cheese, and they thought potatoes were poisonous!"
"So they didn't have much at all." Mike said.
"No, just what they could hunt or fish." Mrs. Dolenz replied. "Good thing the Indians showed them what they could do with corn."
"Yeah, but that was then." Micky replied between bites. "We don't have to worry about that now."
"Don't talk with your mouth full, Micky." His mom reprimanded him.
"Sorry."

After the pumpkin pie, the Monkees insisted on cleaning up and doing the dishes. Despite a water fight and not knowing where most of the utensils went, the kitchen was soon clean. Afterwards, everyone sat down in the living room and watched 'The Wizard of Oz' on TV.
Afterwards, Micky noticed the time and told his mom they had to go home.
"Must you go already?" Mrs. Dolenz told him. "I don't see you that often."
"We've got a lot of things to do tomorrow, Mom, and we're bushed." Micky said regretfully. He gave her a big hug and kiss.
Hugs and kisses were exchanged all around and after finally accepting some leftovers, the Monkees went back to the pad.
Walking inside, Micky let out a huge yawn.
"Man, I'm beat. I'm hittin' the sack."
"Think you should, Mick?" Mike asked. "You ate much more than us."
"I'll be ok." Micky replied with a smile. "It's bedtime for me."
"Yeah, me too." Peter said. "Goodnight, fellas."
"Goodnight, Peter." The others said.
The Monkees went into their bedrooms. As Mike and Micky changed into pajamas, Micky looked over at Mike.
"What a meal. My Mom is such a good cook."
"True." Mike replied. "Goodnight, Micky."
"'Nite, Mike." Micky replied as he turned out the light next to his bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Micky woke up feeling refreshed and relaxed. He pulled the covers off his head, and that feeling quickly died. He was no longer in his bedroom! Instead of the crazy wallpaper and posters, he was in a plain wooden room! It didn't even look like he was in the pad anymore! The bed he was on was now made of straw and his blanket was made of course cloth.
"What's going on?" Micky asked fearfully.
He looked around and to his relief he saw Mike sleeping on his bed across the room. Mike was also on a straw bed. Slowly getting up, Micky noticed he was now wearing a long cloth nightshirt. Creeping over to Mike, he tapped his friend on the shoulder.
"Mike! Mike! Wake up!" Micky said to him.
"Wha...what's the matter, Micky?" Mike said sleepily. "What happened to your pajamas?" He then noticed the room and bolted upright in his bed. Mike looked at his clothes and noticed he was wearing a long nightshirt like Micky. He jumped out of bed and ran over to the window. Instead of seeing the ocean, he saw overgrown woodland. Micky joined him at the window. He looked over at his band mate.
"Mike, we're not in California anymore."

Micky and Mike turned from the window and walked to the middle of the room.
"How on Earth did we get here?" Mike asked.
"We don't even know where 'here' is." Micky told him.
A gust of cool air blew through the window and the two of them shivered. Mike walked over and pulled the wooden shutter over the window to close it. He walked back over to Micky.
"We're somewhere up north." Mike told him. "Judging by the woodlands and the cool temperatures."
Suddenly, they heard Peter and Davy frantically calling their names.
"Mike! Micky! Where are you guys?!" They yelled.
Mike ran to the door and opened it to see Peter and Davy standing there wearing identical nightshirts like Mike and Micky were wearing. Peter and Davy quickly ran into the room and closed the door behind them.
"What's goin' on?" Davy asked. "We go to sleep in the pad and wake up in this old wooden house!"
"That's what we'd like to know." Micky told him. "We're not even by the ocean anymore. Mike thinks we might be someplace up north where it's cold in November."
"This place looks nothing like the pad." Peter told them. "It's all on one floor now; no hurricane steps, no kitchen, just the two bedrooms and I guess a living room."
"Well, let’s go and change into some better clothing and try and find out what's going on." Mike told the others.
Peter and Davy went back into their room to try to find some clothes. Mike and Micky discovered a chest at the foot of each of their beds. Inside was some clothing, but nothing like the clothing they had worn before!
Each of them had a pair of brown pants that went down to the knee, a pair of knee socks, a cotton shirt and a brown button down jacket. There was also a wide-brimmed hat as well. Since there was no other clothing in the chests, they had no choice but to put on those clothes. Looking around, they also found shoes with a buckle on each one.
"Crazy threads, man." Micky said to Mike.
"Yeah, but y'know, this reminds me of pictures of how the pilgrims used to dress....." Mike stopped and looked at Micky. He could tell by the way Micky was looking at him that the same idea occurred to him too.
"Perhaps we're pilgrims now, Mike." Micky told him.
Mike slowly nodded and the two of them left the room and joined Peter and Davy in the living room. They too were dressed the same way Mike and Micky were. Davy was trying to find a way to get the fireplace started.
"Anybody got a match?" He asked.
"I don't think they had matches in this time, Davy." Micky replied.
"What do you mean, mate?" Davy replied.
"Look at our clothes. We're dressed like the pilgrims who settled in Massachusetts in the 1600's."
Davy and Peter realized Micky was right. Slowly, Davy stood up from the fireplace.
The heavy silence that followed was broken by a pounding on their door. Mike walked over, undid the latch, and opened the door. Standing in the doorway was none other than their landlord, Mr. Babbit! He was dressed much like they were, but more fancier and with a black cape. The other Monkees rushed over to him.
"Mr. Babbit, are we glad to see you!" Davy exclaimed.
Babbit glared at Davy. "How dare you address me, the royal governor, in that manner! I am Sir John Babbit and you will address me as 'My Lord'!"
"A thousand pardons, my Lord." Mike replied, catching on quickly and giving Babbit a short bow. "It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't." Babbit sniffed, "I came here to see why you four haven't reported for work yet. Every able-bodied man and woman must work or they do not eat! Food is scarce so we must all work together. So get yourselves over to the town square for your duties!"
"We were just about ready to leave, my Lord." Davy replied with a short bow.
"Very well. Carry on." Babbit proclaimed and strode away. Mike closed the door once again and leaned against it.
"Guys, we are in deep in this one." He said.
The four Monkees sat around a large wooden that was in the middle of the room and began to wonder how they got "here" and why were they "here" in the first place.
"Ok, first things first, said Mike, What are we doing here?"
"The last thing I can remember was going to sleep," said Peter.
Just then, Davy spoke up. "Say, remember last night at dinner, when we were talking about the pilgrims, Indians and the first Thanksgiving?" He said.
"We must have gone back in time, to all of these events." said Micky.
"Right, and if we're going to survive in this time, we better do as Lord Babbit says," said Mike.
"Can't we just go down to the supermarket and get what we need?" asked Peter.
"Uh, Peter those places didn't exist in the 1600‘s," said Micky.
"Oh yeah, I forgot."
"Well, what are we waiting for, let's go in to town and see what we can do." Said Davy.
The other Monkees agreed and headed out the door.

As the guys walked through, they saw that the place where they were was nothing like what they were use to. There were no beach houses, in fact, there was no beach period.
There were townhouses, and instead of cars, there were carts pulled by horses.
"Man, this is weird," said Micky, checking out the area.
"You're telling me," said Davy, also checking out the town.
"Say, we do have jobs, said Peter, We're musicians."
"There weren't any guitars or any form of music equipment back then," said Mike.
"Oh yeah, I forgot."
The Monkees arrived at the town square and saw it was filled with men dressed much like they were. The women were on the other side of the square and were listening to another woman speak. Obviously, she was informing them of their own duties.
Just then, a town official came over. He was about middle-age with graying hair. He climbed up on the wooden platform and began to address the crowd of men.
"Men of Plymouth," He began, "As always, there is much work to be done today. Our food supplies are low, a new well needs to be dug and the fishing boats repaired. So I will divide all of you into three groups." He pointed to a small group of men off to his left. "You men will go down to the docks and work on the boats and after that, help with the fishing."
The official pointed at a group of men standing in front of him. "You men will help dig a new well and make repairs to the walls around our village."
Once again, the official looked over at the group of men to his right, the group the Monkees were a part of. "You men will go out hunting today and find us anything you can."
The Monkees looked at each other in surprise. None of them had much experience in hunting. The official continued as he looked around the groups once again.
"Be off now, and may the Lord bless you in your endeavors."
The men nodded and walked away. Some didn't look too happy about their jobs but knew everyone had to work. The Monkees approached the official.
"Excuse me, sir?" Mike said.
"Yes?" The official replied.
"Well, sir, we've never really hunted before and..."
"Never hunted?" The official interrupted, "How is it then you've survived until now, since every man has had at least one turn at hunting?"
"But sir," Davy began.
"Enough!" The official shouted, "Do your assigned tasks or you will be put in the stocks!" He pointed at a set of stocks sitting on the platform where offenders were forced to stand.
"Yes sir, right away sir!" Micky said and led the others away.
The Monkees went back to their house.
"This is real nice!" Micky complained as they went inside "I've never handled a gun in my life!"
"Me neither." Peter said.
"Or me." Davy replied.
"I've gone hunting maybe once or twice with my uncles," Mike said, "But I never fired my gun."
"Well, we have to do what we're told." Micky said. He pulled out the guns sitting next to the door. "We need to eat."
The Monkees agreed and each picked up a gun and headed out the door.

The four Monkees left the safety of the walled village and soon found themselves out in the woods. They looked around, but couldn't find anything to shoot.
"Man, this will take forever!" Davy exclaimed.
"Well, you can't expect a deer to come up to you so you can shoot it, can you?" Mike replied.
"I don't think I can shoot a deer." Peter said sadly, "They're so nice.”
"Maybe we'll find a rabbit or something." Micky said.
The guys walked for a long time, but still found no trace of any deer, rabbits or ducks. Finally, Mike called for a rest.
"Guys, we're getting nowhere fast. Any ideas?"
"How about heading back?" Micky replied. "My feet hurt."
"And risk being put in those stocks for not bringing any food back?" Davy replied. He looked around disgustedly. "There's gotta be something around here!"
He slammed the butt of his blunderbuss on the ground. To everyone's surprise, it went off....and seconds later, a turkey fell on his head, knocking him down!
"Davy are you ok?" Mike said as he helped Davy up.
"What hit me?"
"This!" Micky said proudly, holding up the turkey. "It must've been flying by when the gun discharged!"
"Groovy!" Peter said, "At least we got something to bring back!"
"But that'll only feed a few people." Mike replied, "We gotta try to find more." He also brought the butt of his blunderbuss down on the ground. Once again, it went off and a duck fell at his feet!
"Whoa! A duck!" Davy exclaimed.
Catching on, Micky and Peter banged the butts of their blunderbusses on the ground. The guns went off....but nothing came down.
"Oh well. A turkey and a duck." Peter said, "Not bad for beginners."
"Let's split up and look around some more." Mike told the others. "If we can't find anything else, we'll head back to town."
The others agreed and they went off in separate directions. Davy carried his turkey on his back and Mike carried the duck on his.

Micky was walking through some trees when he thought he spotted a deer. Slowly, he crept around some trees to get a better look. However, when he rounded a tree, he found himself face to face with an Indian!
"AHHH!" Micky screamed, stumbling backwards. He went back a few steps and then his foot caught on a tree root and he fell backwards to the ground. Micky's gun hit the ground and discharged once again. The Indian walked towards him. He was wearing a deerskin shirt, pants and moccasins. There was paint on his face and he had a spear in one hand and a sack slung over his shoulder.
Micky tried to scramble away, but his foot was caught in the tree root. The Indian came and stood over him. Micky raised his hand.
"Um, how?" He said.
The Indian simply smiled, hefted his spear....and drove it point-first into the ground. Then, he bent down, freed Micky’s foot from the tree root and offered his hand to Micky. The Monkee looked at the hand for a moment, then took it and let himself be pulled upright. Just then, Mike, Peter and Davy came charging over, guns at the ready.
"Leave him alone, savage!" They yelled.
"It's ok, guys!" Micky exclaimed. "I think he's friendly."
"I am." The Indian said, "My name is Squanto."
"You speak English!" Davy exclaimed.
"Yes, many moons ago I was taken prisoner by white men and sold as a slave." Squanto said, "I learned English from my master and later I was able to escape. Other white men helped me find my way back here." He smiled. "That's how I know not all white men are bad, though most think of us as savages."
Mike, Peter and Davy hung their heads. "We're sorry, Squanto. My name is Mike and this is Peter, Davy and Micky."
"I am pleased to meet you. I see you have been hunting." The Indian said.
"Yeah, we've had some luck." Davy replied.
"Let me help you hunt." "I know a few things about the woods." Squanto said dryly.
"That would be nice, Squanto." Micky told him, "Then you can come back to the village with us."
But Squanto shook his head. "I am afraid your people may not like me."
"We'll tell them you're ok, Squanto." Davy replied, "That you're not a savage."
"I will think about it, my friends." Squanto replied, "Right now let us find some food for your village."

With a little help and practice from Squanto, The Monkees learned to become better hunters. By the day's end, they caught a total of 17 turkeys, 14 ducks, 5 deer, 4 geese, and 5 quails.
"You have done well," said Squanto, sounding proud of his new friends.
"We couldn’t have done it with out you Squanto," said Peter.
"Yes, thank you for all you've done," said Mike.
"Wait till we get back to town, they won't believe what we’ve done, since we never hunted before." said Micky.
"And maybe you can teach some of other villagers your methods," said Davy.
Squanto shook his head and said, "I'm afraid I can not come back with you."
"Why's that?" asked Peter.
"I do not want to get you in trouble with the town, and if I bring you back to my village, you will be in bigger trouble."
They thanked Squanto once again, and they went their separate ways.
As they got back to the village, Mike spoke to the other Monkees.
"Now remember, we can't say anything about Squanto, or we'll be in trouble," he said.
"But he helped us," said Peter.
"Yes, he does deserve the credit," said Davy.
"I agree, but you heard what they told us earlier today, if we cause any problems, it's the stocks for us," said Micky.
The town's people were impressed with the guys captures. The Monkees were giving a ration of their items, which were two quails, they had one that night, and saved the other one for the next day.

The next day, The Monkees went back to town to see what their jobs were for the day.
"Your job for today will be to catch fish," said the official.
"Sounds fine with us, just hand us our poles and we'll be off." said Mike.
"You will use spears."
The official then handed each of the Monkees a spear, and off the guys went.
Sometime later, the guys were standing in one of the near by lakes, trying to catch fish.
"This is ridiculous, said Micky, We'll never catch anything this way."
"At least you can stand in the lake. The water's going up to my knees." said Davy.
"Perhaps I can be of some help," said a voice.
It was Squanto.
"Hello, Squanto!" The Monkees said happily. "Nice to see you again!"
"And you as well." Squanto replied. "So today you are fishermen."
"Yeah, but we have to use these spears." Micky said, "I wish we had fishing poles."
"Or a net." Peter added.
"Come with me." Squanto said, "I will help you catch fish. Where you are now standing is too shallow for the fish to come close."
The Monkees followed Squanto to a small stream that was being fed by the lake. The water was deeper where they were. The Indian motioned for them to squat down at stream's edge.
"You must not let the fish see you." Squanto told them, then showed them how to hold their spears.
"Now what?" Mike asked.
"Now we wait." Squanto replied softly. "Fishing, like hunting, requires patience."
The Monkees and Squanto waited by the edge of the stream, spears at the ready. After what seemed like a very long time, a few fish came down the stream.
"There's one!" Davy exclaimed and threw his spear. The other Monkees threw their spears at the other fish as well. But when they pulled the spears up, none of them had speared a single fish. They looked over at Squanto. He had a nice sized haddock squirming on the tip of his spear. Squanto smiled at his friends.
"Throwing all those spears at once scared the fish away." He told them. "You must thrust your spear at the fish, not throw it." Squanto tossed his fish off to the side and stood up. "I think it will be better if two of you try another way of fishing, while the other two use the spears."
"I'll try another way." Micky replied.
"Me too." Mike said.
"Very well." Squanto said, "You two use the spears, while I show them a different way to fish."
Squanto led Mike and Micky a short ways down the stream, to a place where the stream became narrower. Once there, Squanto and the two Monkees made a small net of grass and sticks and placed it in the narrow part of the stream. Water easily passed through the net, but soon enough a small fish was trapped! Mike hauled it to shore and placed the net back into the stream. Not long after, another fish was caught and Micky brought it back to shore. The two smiled happily at their friend.
"This is great, Squanto!" Micky told him, "Thanks a lot."
"I must check on your two friends." Squanto replied, patting Micky's back. "And see if they have caught anything."
Squanto walked back up to where he had left Peter and Davy. They smiled when he approached and showed him the fish on the spears they had just caught.
"I think we're getting the hang of it, Squanto!" Peter said happily.
"Your two friends are using a net placed in the moving water to catch fish as well." Squanto replied, "You four are fast learners and will help your village survive."
"We couldn't have done it without you." Davy said.
The Monkees and Squanto were so busy fishing that they didn't notice the day was getting late. Finally Squanto looked up at the sun and realized the time.
"You four must go back now." He told them. They had caught over thirty fish of all sizes, enough to feed several of the townspeople. "You will be missed."
"We really wish you could come back with us." Mike said sadly.
"Your people do not trust my kind." Squanto replied shaking his head. "And many of my people do not trust your kind."
"But we trust each other, Squanto." Peter said, "That's a start in the right direction."
"That is true..." Squanto broke off when he heard a noise coming from the direction of the village.
It was several men coming towards them. Squanto quickly ducked into the trees and disappeared. Mike glanced over at his friends.
"Remember, we can't tell them we know Squanto."
The other three nodded their heads. The men coming towards them were the town official and his men.
"Spread out!" The official shouted to his men as they came closer. See if you can find that savage!"
His men went off in several directions while the official walked over to the Monkees.
"What were you doing talking to that savage?!" He demanded.
"He had just come over and tried talking to us." Mike told him. "We don't know what he wanted."
"Why didn't you kill him? It was four against one."
"He didn't attack us, sir." Peter replied.
"Bah! He's still a savage!" The official replied. "They take men's scalps, burn people's houses and kidnap women."
"He didn't seem like a savage to us, sir." Micky replied.
The official sniffed. "Well, just be thankful we had arrived when we did, to see what had happened to you, otherwise your scalps would be gone." He turned to the men who were returning. "Any luck?"
"No sir." One man said. "No trace of the savage."
"Let this be a lesson to you four." The official replied, "Those savages living in the woods beyond our walls cannot be trusted. He would've taken your scalps and all the fish you had caught."
"No he wou…" Davy started to say, but was elbowed hard in the stomach by Mike.
"Let's go back." The official said, "It is getting dark. You four have done well once again."
"Thank you sir." Micky replied through clenched teeth.
The Monkees picked up the fish and followed the other men back to Plymouth.
Once back, the fish were divided up among the townspeople. The official took a large fish as his share and handed it to a young woman, who looked to be his daughter. The Monkees received two large fish as their share. They went back to their house and decided to keep them for another time and ate the Quail they had caught yesterday. The guys were angry at how Squanto and his people were maligned by the official but could do nothing about it.
"No wonder there isn't much food to eat." Mike told the others. "The townspeople won't work with the Indians to get food."
"The Indians could teach them so much about using the land, but they keep thinking the Indians are savages." Micky replied.
"And the food situation is only going to get worse." Davy replied. "It's autumn. Crops can't grow, and Squanto says the animals often travel far away to get food for themselves, making it harder to find them."
Nothing more was said as the Quail was ready to eat and the hungry Monkees dug in.

Meanwhile, Sir John Babbit was having dinner at the official's house and the official was telling Babbit about the Monkees' encounter with the 'savage' and how he had driven the 'savage' away.
"And you say these four were not the least bit afraid of being around that awful savage?" Babbit asked, taking a bite of his fish.
"No, my Lord." The official, whose name was Lester Juste, replied shaking his head. "One of them, the one with the curly hair, even said the savage didn't seem like a savage to him!"
Babbit looked over at Juste. "Why would he say that? He must know what those savages can do to people?"
"I do not know, my Lord." Juste replied as his daughter Samantha walked into the room with a tray of tea. "I cannot explain it either."
Babbit sat back and thought for a moment. "Have those men watched. They may secretly be giving that savage information about our village."
"It will be done, my Lord." Juste replied.
Babbit smiled and continued to eat his fish.

The next morning, The Monkees woke up and headed to the center of town, just like they had done for the past two days.
"Today, I want you gentlemen to handle the harvest." said Official Juste.
The Monkees were handed yard work equipment and headed for the fields.
Lord Babbit called Official Juste over.
"Follow them and take some people with you, just in case you need help," he said.
Juste and the men followed the Monkees to the harvest fields and hid in some bushes were the guys won't find them.

When the Monkees got to the harvest grounds, they began to work. However, they didn't seem do be having a bit of trouble with the job.
"You know, I didn't think yard work seemed like a hard job.“ Said Davy, trying to lift up a pumpkin.
"That's because we don't have a garden at the pad," said Mike, attempting to shuck some corn.
"Yeah, this is nothing like the yard work we did for Babbit," said Micky, throwing apples from a tree, while Peter tried to catch them in a basket.
Mike was using all his strength to pull a corn off a stock, when he heard a voice from behind him.
"May I show you an easy to do that?"
Once again, Squanto showed up.
"Hello, Squanto!" Mike said happily, then warily looked around. "You better be careful after what happened yesterday."
"Yes, your fellow white men may not trust you much now, since you were seen talking to me." Squanto said sadly, as he showed Mike how to pull the corn off the stalk.
"Don't worry, we didn't tell them anything." Peter replied.
"Thank you, my friends." Squanto told him.
Meanwhile, Juste and his men tried to hide in the bushes to spy on the Monkees but found themselves in thorn bushes instead! Lord Babbit had decided to come along too, and not used to being out of 'civilization' began to yell when his robe became caught.
"Get my robe off these thorns!" He shouted angrily.
Juste realized he had made a mistake letting the Governor come out here. He made too much noise! Sure enough, the Monkees and Squanto heard Babbit shouting and the Indian promptly took off. The Monkees laughed amongst themselves and continued to try to harvest the meager crops that were growing.
Micky walked along, looking up at the trees to find apples, when he suddenly bumped into someone and knocked that person down. With a shock, he realized it was a woman. Not just any woman either, it was the same woman he had seen Juste give the fish to yesterday: his daughter Samantha.
"Oh, I am so sorry, miss." Micky said, helping her get up.
"It's ok." Samantha replied, "I wasn't watching where I was walking. I was looking down picking berries from the bushes."
"And I was looking up at the trees." Micky smiled at her. Samantha had reddish-brown hair down to her shoulders, with a white cap on her head and had large green eyes. The Monkee instantly fell in love with her.
"May I ask your name?" Micky asked her.
"I am Samantha, Samantha Juste." She replied. "What is yours?"
"I am Micky Dolenz." Micky replied. "Pleased to meet you." He pulled his hat off his head and bowed. Samantha started to giggle.
"What's so funny?" He asked.
"I loved how all your curly hair just...popped out when you took your hat off!" She laughed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't laugh at you."
"It's ok." Micky smiled. "I like my curly hair." He picked up her basket.
"Thank you. You are kind." Samantha said. "May I ask you something?"
"Ask away." Micky said.
"I overheard my father and Lord Babbit talking about you and your friends last night at dinner." She said quietly. "How you four were talking to a savage yesterday."
Micky just shrugged, not wanting to give anything away. Samantha continued.
"My father said you said the savage didn't seem like a savage to you. Is that true?"
"Yes it is." Micky replied. "Despite the clothes and paint on his face, he looked and acted as human as you and I."
Samantha nodded. "I believe that as well. The savages as we call them are just different, that's all."
"I'm glad my friends and I are not the only ones who think so." Micky replied.
Samantha stepped closer to him. "Please be careful. Lord Babbit told my father to spy on you and your friends."
"So that's why we heard Babbit out here." Micky chuckled.
"Yes, and he and my father thinks you might be giving the savage information about our village."
"No, Squanto's been..." Micky stopped, realizing he had said too much. He looked at Samantha. "I mean, he hasn't..."
"It's ok, I didn't hear anything." She smiled. "I must get back now. I'm going to help the other women turn these berries into jam."
"Goodbye, Samantha. Thanks for the warning."
"Goodbye, Micky. Take care." She waved and walked back to the village.
Micky turned back to see Squanto and the other Monkees come out from the nearby trees. They had several bushels full of apples with them.
"Well, Micky." Mike said, "Get any apples?"
"No, I think he got something else." Davy smiled. "What's her name, Micky?"
"Samantha Juste, the official's daughter." Micky told him. "She warned me that Babbit's got people spying on us."
"They seem to have left for now." Squanto replied. "I want to teach you four something else before I leave."
Squanto led them over to some of the corn stalks. They didn't look like they were growing very well. The Indian dug a small hole next to a stalk, opened his sack and pulled out a fish head. The Monkees recoiled a bit on seeing that, then wondered why Squanto put the fish head in the ground next to the stalk.
"You white men throw away the head of the fish, thinking it is no good. But it is. The flesh of the fish head decays and gives food to the corn stalk so it will grow better."
The Monkees were impressed by this primitive fertilizer. They took the fish heads out of Squanto's sack and did the same to the other stalks.
Unfortunately, Juste and his men came running towards them. They had left the noisy Babbit behind this time and saw what the five men were doing. He thought they were trying to damage the crops!
"Stop right there!" He shouted. "Or we'll fire!"
"Run!" Peter shouted at Squanto.
Squanto cursed himself. He had gotten his friends in trouble. He didn't want to leave his friends, but realized he would be killed if he stayed. "I will return." He said, then ran off.
"FIRE!" Juste shouted at his men.
Shots rang out, but the primitive guns were very inaccurate at a distance so none of the bullets came near Squanto. Juste's men surrounded the Monkees, guns at the ready.
"So, I was right!" Juste shouted at them. "You ARE helping that savage aren’t' you? Telling him our defenses and damaging our crops!" He looked with disgust at the fish head lying unburied at his foot.
"No, it's not true, sir!" Mike said, "He's been trying to help us! He showed us how to catch all those deer and turkeys and fish!"
"He wants to help us!" Peter exclaimed.
"Help us die, you mean!" Juste snarled, then looked at his men. "Take them back to the village and put them in the stocks until Lord Babbit decides what to do with them!"
The Monkees were prodded at gunpoint back to Plymouth. People stopped doing their chores to see what was going on. Samantha looked up from mashing berries to see Micky and the others brought in. She got up and ran over to her father.
"Father, what's going on?"
"They've been caught associating with a savage." Juste replied, "I caught them trying to damage our crops."
"No, I can't believe that!" She exclaimed, "And I don't think they are savages!"
"That's enough, daughter!" Juste said angrily. "Go back to your duties and let me do mine."
The Monkees were forced onto the wooden platform in the town square and made to stand in front of the stocks. A man opened the stocks and the Monkees were forced to place their necks and wrists in the bottom groove. Then the top part of the stocks were brought down and latched in place.

"Good town folks! Official Juste called to everyone, “These traitors were helping our enemy!"
He indicated the Monkees, who were locked in the stocks.
The town's people continued to boo, hiss and even throw stuff at the guys.
Micky noticed that the only person in the crowd who didn't treat them bad was Samantha, who instead showed a face of concern for the guys. Juste walked away to tell Babbit the news, while the townspeople jeered the Monkees for what they had done.
Soon Lord Babbit came out of his house and marched over to the town square where the Monkees were. He looked at them in anger.
"So! You four would help our enemies, eh?" He sneered.
"No, my Lord!" Mike replied. "He's not an enemy! He's trying to show us how to hunt, fish and gather food!"
"Oh ho! So now we need savages to teach US?!" He mocked. Several townspeople laughed at that.
"My Lord!" Samantha exclaimed, walking over to Babbit and curtsying. "These four have brought us much food over the past two days. More than the other men have brought. Perhaps the savage is helping them!"
"What better way to trick us then by pretending to help." Her father put in.
"You mean the savage is tricking us by feeding us, father?" Samantha asked.
"Watch your tongue daughter or you will join them up there!" Juste shouted at her. "Now be silent!" He looked at Babbit. "My apologies, my Lord."
"It's alright, Juste." Babbit replied, "Though she does have a point." He looked back at the Monkees then at the official. "I am loath to execute someone right out of hand. The Almighty knows we need all the men we can get. Keep them in the stocks until tomorrow, then we will have a trial. I will hear what they have to say about this so-called helpful savage. If they are found to be lying....they will be hanged."
Juste bowed. "It will be as you say, my Lord Babbit."
Babbit strode back to his house. Juste looked over at the crowd. "I think all of you have duties to attend to?" He asked.
The crowd slowly dissipated, with just a few stragglers pausing to throw dirt at the Monkees. Juste glared at his daughter. "Do not embarrass me again, Samantha." He said to her.
"I am sorry, father, but I am interested in justice as much as you are." Samantha replied, hanging her head.
Juste's face softened a little. "You have so much of your late mother's spirit in you. Go back to your work."
"Yes father." Samantha replied. She paused by the Monkees, gave them a little smile and went back to her house.

Time passed slowly for the Monkees while they were locked in the stocks. They were uncomfortable standing up and bent over and their backs hurt. Davy was hurting the most. The stocks were built for people taller than him and he found that he had to stand on tiptoe most of the time, otherwise it was hard to breath. Plus, nobody gave them anything to eat or drink, so they were very hungry, thirsty and cold. To make matters worse, as it grew dark, it got colder and it began to snow.
"We...we may not make it to the trial, fellas." Mike shivered.
"I didn't think they really did this to people." Peter said.
"What about cruel and unusual punishment?" Micky replied.
"No bill of rights for another 150 years, Micky." Mike said. "They did what they wanted to people back then."
"You mean now." Davy said quietly.
"Yeah, are you ok?" Mike asked.
"So cold, so cold." Davy whispered.
"Hang on, Davy, please." Mike replied.
"This is my fault." Micky replied. "If I hadn't eaten so much at my mom's house, I wouldn't be having this dream, er, nightmare."
"We all ate a lot, Micky." Peter replied, "This could be all my fault."
Just then, a figure came out of the darkness, wearing a dark cloak. The figure mounted the steps of the platform and approached the Monkees. When the figure took off its hood, the Monkees could see it was Samantha.
"Samantha! Are we glad to see you!" Micky said.
"Shh! My father doesn't know I'm here." She said. Samantha opened her cloak and brought out a flask and a sack. She opened the flask and brought it to Micky's lips.
"Drink this. It is hot tea."
Micky drank the tea. When he had drank, Samantha went down the line and gave the tea to Peter, Mike and Davy. Next, she brought some bread out of her sack and gave them each a piece to eat. They quickly ate the bread down.
"Thank you, Samantha." Micky said quietly.
"I am so sorry this happened." Samantha told the four.
"At least we'll get our say at the trial." Mike said.
But Samantha shook her head. "My father is with Lord Babbit now, trying to convince him you four are trying to bring the downfall of this village. By tomorrow, I doubt Lord Babbit will be inclined to listen to you."
"Then they will not be at this trial." Another voice said behind her.
Samantha spun around to see Squanto standing there. He grabbed her and quickly put his hand across her mouth to stop her from screaming.
"Squanto don't hurt her." Micky said quickly. "She's a friend of ours."
"I know. I saw her giving you four some food." He looked at Samantha. "I will not hurt you. Do you promise not to scream or try to run away?"
Samantha nodded yes and Squanto let her go. She stepped back from him. "So you are the one who was helping them find food?" She asked.
"Yes." Squanto told her. "I was once a slave of white men, but I know not all white men are evil."
"I do not believe all your kind are savages either." Samantha replied, "And you have proven that to me."
"So what happens now?" Peter asked.
Squanto walked over to the stocks and released the latches, setting them free. Samantha helped the men stand up straight for the first time in hours. Davy was particularly glad to be free.
"I am taking you four to my village." Squanto replied. "I told the chief and elders what has happened and they will let you stay there."
"What about Samantha?" Micky asked.
"I will not tell what has happened here." She replied. "It is better for you to be in exile than face hanging."
"Come." Squanto told the Monkees, "I dug a hole under the fence so we can escape."
Micky walked over to Samantha, took her hand and gave her a kiss. "Thanks for all you've done."
"Take care, Micky." She smiled, then looked at Squanto. "And thank you for you've done for them...and for our village, Squanto."
"You are welcome, young lady." Squanto replied with a smile, then led the Monkees away. Mike, Peter and Davy also thanked Samantha then quickly followed Squanto and Micky.
Samantha watched them disappear into the darkness and marveled how Squanto was able to get inside without any of the guards seeing him. She smiled a little, knowing a few of those guards would be in these stocks tomorrow for not being alert. Then, she walked back to her house, thoughts of Micky on her mind.

Squanto led the Monkees into the deep, dark woods.
"I wish it wasn't so dark," said Peter, who was feeling a little scared, though he didn’t want to admit it.
"Cuz we can’t see where were going?" asked Mike.
"Yeah, that too."
"Not to worry gentlemen, I know these woods every well," said Squanto.
Just then, they noticed a light in front of them.
"What's that?" Micky asked pointing to the light.
"That's my village, we are getting closer," said Squanto.
"I wonder what that glow is?" Said Davy, still shivering from the cold.
The five approached the glow, which was really a fire, burning brightly in the center of a small area of homes.
But these homes weren't like the ones in the town square. These homes were made of grass and mud.
"Gentlemen, welcome to my village," said Squanto.
The Monkees looked around the village. It looked so much different then the town square indeed. Everyone was helping one another, children were running around and playing.
However, all was quiet when an elderly type man appeared. It was the chief of the village.
"Squanto, you have returned," said the chief approaching Squanto.
"Yes my chief," said Squanto.
"And you brought us your friends."
The chief approached the Monkees with a smile.
"Squanto told me about what happened to you. But don't worry, you're safe."
That made the Monkees smiled too, despite shivering from the cold. The chief called some of his daughters to fetch some homemade blankets for the guys to keep warm.

The Chief's daughters came over and put blankets around the Monkees' shoulders. They thanked the women and then the chief led them to a large wood and grass lodge. There were animal furs on the floor and it was lit with several fires. The Monkees smiled at the sudden warmth as they went inside. There were several other Indians gathered in a circle around a large fire. They stood as the Chief, the Monkees and Squanto came over. The Chief sat down and motioned for the Monkees and Squanto to sit next to him. Then the other Indians sat down as well. Most looked curiously at the four white men, but some had distrustful looks on their faces.
The Chief looked at the Monkees. "I am Massasoit, chief of this village and you are my honored guests. We will eat first, then talk."
"Thank you very much chief Massasoit. We are honored to be here." Mike said solemnly.
Massasoit smiled and clapped his hands. Several women came over with trays and bowls of food for everyone. Soon everyone was feasting on deer meat, fish, Quail, Turkey, several kinds of vegetables and corn bread. The food was washed down with berry juice. The Monkees hungrily ate the delicious food. After everyone had eaten, a bowl of water and a towel made of feathers was passed around so everyone could wash their hands. Finally, Massasoit lit a long pipe, took a puff and passed it to Micky, who was sitting at his right. Micky didn't want to puff on the pipe since he didn't smoke (none of the Monkees did), but realized it would be a grave insult if he didn't. So he inhaled just a tiny bit an managed to suppress a cough as he blew out the smoke. Micky passed the pipe to Davy who took a tiny puff and managed not to cough either. Davy quickly passed the pipe to the indian next to him.
"So now." Massasoit said to the Monkees, "Squanto has told me you four have been learning how to hunt, fish and farm from him."
"Yes, Chief, that's true." Peter said, "He is very smart."
Massasoit smiled. "Yes he is. He is one of the village's best hunters." The Chief waited until Peter, then Mike, had their turn at the pipe. Peter coughed a little, but nobody said anything to him. Massasoit took the pipe from Mike and continued.
"You four are different from the other white men we have encountered. They either run away or attack us, never giving us a chance to show we are peaceful."
Davy nodded. "It seems our people are afraid of what they do not understand."
"But we are glad your people have not attacked us in return." Micky told the Chief.
"If the white men do not want our friendship, we will leave them alone." Massasoit said. "Perhaps one day they will see that we have much to offer."
"I hope it is soon." Mike replied, "Our town doesn't have much food."
"Yet they will not even trade with us." Massasoit replied, shaking his head.
"We should not trust the white men, my Chief." An indian said. "Look what happened to Squanto."
"I know that there are evil white men, Howling Wolf," Squanto replied, "But I also have encountered many good white men as well. Otherwise, I would never have escaped slavery and made it back here."
"They are even evil to their own kind, Squanto." Howling Wolf answered, "These men were punished for trying to befriend you."
"True," Massasoit answered, "So we have taken them in. They will live with us, be a part of our tribe, until their village and ours can live together in peace."
The Monkees were touched by this and very grateful. Mike said as much to the Chief. He smiled.
"We will always welcome those who are peaceful." Massasoit said, then stood up. Everyone else did the same. "This day is at an end, and now we must sleep. May the Great Spirit bless your dreams."
"Thank you Chief. And thank you for the food." Davy said.
Massasoit smiled and nodded his head. Squanto led them out of the community lodge and over to his own hut. Once in there, they all laid down on the fur rugs around the fire, covered themselves with their blankets and were soon fast asleep.

The next morning at Plymouth, the town was in a tizzy. The four traitors had escaped! There was little doubt they had been freed by the savage. As Samantha had predicted, the guards who were supposed to be guarding the wall were placed in the stocks until sunset for dereliction of duty. A search was carried out for the Monkees, but of course, no trace of them was found.
Back at Babbit's house, the Governor was beside himself with rage. He angrily paced back and forth while Juste did his best to keep out of his way.
"How could that savage sneak in here and free those men!?" Babbit shouted at Juste.
"Somehow he was able to dig a hole under the wall and under the cover of night he freed them, my Lord." Juste replied.
"Those four are probably telling those savages everything about us right now!" Babbit continued. "All our defenses, number of men, how much food we have! I should have hung them right away yesterday!"
"Yes, my Lord." Juste replied.
Samantha, waiting in the next room for her father, couldn't help but smile at the Governor's consternation. She was glad Micky and the others escaped and hoped they would be alright. Out the window, she could see it was beginning to snow.

Meanwhile, the Monkees and Squanto got up and the indian gave them new clothes to wear. Instead of the breeches and coats, they now put on clothes like him. Pants, shirts and moccasins made of deerskin. The clothing was quite warm in the cold weather and the Monkees thanked Squanto.
After the morning meal, Squanto began to teach them in earnest about the ways of his people. He taught them how to hunt, not with guns, but bows and arrows. The Monkees caught several deer, which they brought back to the village where the women would gut and clean them for the evening meal. The snow that started earlier that day was now coming down harder and harder until it became a storm. Inside his hut, Squanto looked at his friends.
"It is a good thing you brought in food now." He said. "Storms here could last for several days, but we will have enough to eat."
"That's great, Squanto." Micky replied, "But...."
"But what, Micky?" Squanto asked.
"But what about our village? We had to hunt every day just to survive and now this storm will make matters worse for them."
"I truly emphasize with you." Squanto said, "But there is nothing we can do for them."
The Monkees looked at each other and realized he was right. They had enough food, but the people of Plymouth would go hungry.

The storm did last for several days. The Indian village had food stored up, while the colony went hungry. Finally, the storm let up and the Monkees met together in private.
"I know they were mean to us." Mike said, "But I don't like to see anybody starve."
"I'm worried about Samantha." Micky replied. "I feel bad having a full stomach while she's going hungry."
The other Monkees nodded in agreement.
"We gotta do something." Peter said.
"Let's see if we can go hunt something for them." Davy replied.
"With or without Squanto's help." Peter said.
The Monkees went into Squanto's tent. But before they could say a word, he held up his hands. They had bows and arrows in them. "Would you like to go help your village?"
The Monkees were surprised but yet glad that Squanto was going to help them.
"You can't go out there,” said a voice, “Not with out some extra help.”
The Monkees and Squanto turned to see that Howling Wolf, and a few other Indians were standing by with bows and arrows in hands.
"Howling Wolf, what made you changed your mind?" Asked Squanto.
"I heard what your friends were saying about their people, and I imagined it was us in their place," Howling Wolf answered.
He then approached The Monkees.
"I would like to apologize for what I said the other day, and we would like to help you."
Before they went off, Chief Massasoit spoke a few words.
"Be careful out there, and good luck on your quest," he said.
They all thanked the chief and set off.

When they reached the forest, the group separated.
Squanto led the Monkees on the way to hunt, while Howling Wolf led the other group to the lake to fish.
While hunting, Micky heard something coming from some bushes.
"Who's there?" he asked.
Somebody appeared from the bushes. It was Samantha.
"Micky, is that you?" she asked.
"Yes it is Samantha," Micky answered, before giving her a hug.
"Where have you been, the whole town, mainly my father and Babbit, are looking for you, Mike, Davy and Peter."
"Really?"
"It's not what you think, you're all wanted by the town."
Micky began to look worried.
"Speaking of the other guys, where are they?" asked Samantha.
Micky then explained to her that Squanto took them to his village for safety.
"I'm glad you’re all ok, said Samantha, “I was beginning to worry."
"I was worried about you,” said Micky, “I heard you didn't luck out so well during the storm.”
"I'm afraid it's true." Samantha's face then looked somber. "We lost a few people. The children survived, but they as we as many others are very hungry, so I went out to the woods to se if there was any berries."
"I can help you. Squanto taught me which berries were poisonous and which are safe to eat. In fact, that’s why we’re out here, to help the village."
Samantha began to cheer up.
"That's very sweet of you, despite after what happened."
The two leaned over to kiss, when they heard footsteps.
"That must be my father,” said Samantha, “You better leave now, before he finds you."
Micky just stood still.
"No, I want to explain..."
He couldn't finish, for at that moment, there was Official Juste, along with Babbit and several other men.
"You were going to explain to my daughter that you were going to kidnap her to wherever you are?" asked official Juste.
"No sir, I…"
Micky was unable to finish once again, for the men grabbed Micky.
"Take him back to town, Lord Babbit and I are going to look for the others," said Juste.
"Yeah, if he’s here, his friends can't be far behind." Babbit said.
"You better take Samantha back home for safety," Juste continued.
The men did just that.

While Micky and Samantha were taken back to Plymouth, Squanto and the other three Monkees continued their hunt. After awhile, Mike, Peter and Davy met up again with Squanto and showed him their catches. Mike had a deer, Peter had three rabbits and Davy had two quails. Squanto himself had caught two turkeys.
"You three have done well, my friends." Squanto said with pride. "Let us wait to see what Micky has caught."
"He should've been back by now." Mike remarked.
"Let us look for him." The indian said.
The three Monkees followed Squanto and watched as he followed Micky's trail. It wasn't too long before he stopped and said something angrily in his own language.
"What's wrong, Squanto?" Peter asked.
The Indian examined the ground for a few more seconds before answering.
"Micky has been captured by your townsmen." Squanto said solemnly.
"How can you tell?" Davy asked.
Squanto pointed to the flattened grass and broken twigs around them. "The ground has been disturbed by many men wearing the white men's shoes. I can tell by the footprints." He walked over to the bushes and examined the broken branches. "They went through here not long ago."
"We have to rescue Micky!" Mike exclaimed, "They'll hang him for sure!"
Squanto didn't answer, but cupped a hand to his mouth and whistled like a bird. After a few seconds, another bird whistle answered him. The Indian looked at the three Monkees.
"I've called Howling Wolf and his men over here. Together we might be able to save Micky."
Seconds later, Howling Wolf and his men ran over, carrying many sacks of fish.
"Squanto, what is wrong?" Howling Wolf asked.
"Micky has been taken captive by the white men and they are heading back to their village now."
Howling Wolf nodded. "We know the trail they will take. Let us be off."
The three Monkees and the Indians followed Squanto as he led them into the woods. The Monkees hoped they could rescue Micky without any bloodshed.

Meanwhile, Micky and Samantha were being taken back to Plymouth. Micky's hands had been bound behind him, while Samantha tried to tell the men Micky and the others had done no wrong.
"Micky and his friends have done nothing but good things for our town!" She pleaded. "I know some of you men have eaten the food they caught!"
"That may be so, my lady." One of the men replied, "But look at him! He has become a savage like them! He is even wearing the clothes of a savage!"
"That doesn't mean he is one of them!" Samantha retorted.
"We will let Lord Babbit and your father deal with him." Another man answered.
Just then, everyone heard the call of an owl. A few seconds later, another call answered.
"An owl calling in the middle of the day?" A man asked.
Suddenly, several Indians seemed to appear out of nowhere from the woods. Since they were wearing deerskins clothes, they blended in very well with the trees. Behind the Indians were Mike, Peter and Davy. The Indians had bows and arrows in their hands, but didn't have them raised at the white men.
But the sight of the Indians frightened the white men and they raised their guns to fire.
"Savages! FIRE!" A man yelled.
"NO!" Micky and Samantha yelled.
But the men fired anyway. However, the Indians and the three Monkees ducked down and the bullets went over their heads. Now, several Indians raised their bows and arrows to shoot back.
Squanto yelled something to the other Indians in his own language and the Indians didn't return fire. He switched to english.
"We do not wish to fight you!" Squanto yelled. "Let Micky go and we will leave in peace!"
But the only answer given him was the firing of guns. The Indians ducked down and went behind the trees to avoid being hit.
"Leave us alone you savages!" A white man yelled.
Micky realized things were at a stalemate. He didn't want anyone-Indian or white man-to be hurt or killed because of him.
"Squanto, Howling Wolf!" Micky shouted, "Go back! This isn't the way! I'll be alright!"
"No you won't!" Mike shouted back, "You'll be hanged!"
"I won't be responsible for starting a war." Micky replied. "Please...for me...go back to the village."
Squanto and Howling Wolf looked at each other. They hated to admit it, but Micky was right. If either white man or indian were hurt or killed, it could easily escalate into a war nobody would win. Mike, Peter and Davy walked over to Squanto. The pain etched in their faces told him they had reached the same conclusion. They nodded slowly to him and Squanto nodded back. He looked at the white men.
"Very well. We do not want to fight you, but know that Micky is an innocent man."
"So you say." A man sneered.
The Indians and the three Monkees slowly went back into the woods. Within seconds, they were invisible to the white men.
The men pushed Micky towards the town once again, but several of them had thoughtful expressions on their faces. If Micky was on the side of the savages, would he not have encouraged a fight between the races? Instead, he only wanted peace. Without a word, the group hurried back to Plymouth.

The Indians and the Monkees slowly went back to the Indian village with heavy hearts. They knew Micky would be executed by the townspeople and they could do nothing about it. Howling Wolf looked at the three Monkees.
"Your friend is very noble and brave."
"Thank you." Peter whispered, a tear coming down his cheek.
Suddenly, the group heard some noise coming from nearby. Checking it out, they found Lord Babbit and Official Juste arguing. It seems they got lost as they were looking for the other three Monkees.
"I say we should go this way!" Babbit said, pointing. "I know the town is in that direction!
"My Lord, we just came that way. We must go this way!" Juste said pointing in another direction.
"I think you two should go in this direction." Squanto said as and the others came out of the brush. He pointed in a third direction. "That is the way to our village, and I think my chief would like to talk to you two.”

The men who had captured Micky quickly made their way back to Plymouth. There was some cheering, but mostly it was silent as the party made its way back into the town. Looking around, Micky could see what Samantha had told him was true. Most of the townspeople looked thin and somber and their faces had sunken cheeks; they looked on the verge of starvation. The heavy snow had made it nearly impossible to hunt or fish.
Micky was forced up onto the platform in the town square, his hands untied and once again, he was placed in the stocks. The townspeople began to jeer and throw snowballs at him, but Samantha stood in front of Micky and told the townspeople how Micky had stopped a fight between the townsmen and the Indians. Her story started a fierce debate.
"He knows some of the savages by name, and yet he thinks he's one of us!?" A woman yelled.
"But he told the savages to go away." Another woman answered, "Maybe the savages can be reasoned with."
"I remember all the food he and his friends brought to the town." A man said, "They are better hunters than I am."
"Anybody who would talk to a savage should be hung!" Yet another man shouted.
The debate went on and grew more and more louder. Finally, one of the men shouted for quiet.
"This is getting us nowhere!" He yelled. "This is not bringing us food! We will wait until Lord Babbit and Official Juste come back with the other three traitors and let them decide their fate!"
"Have my father and Lord Babbit returned yet?" Samantha asked the man.
"Not yet, my lady." He answered, "But I'm sure it will be soon."

Lord Babbit and Official Juste looked with horror at the Indians coming towards them. Babbit smacked Juste's arm.
"Savages! Shoot them!" He yelled. "That's an order!" Juste was the only one with a gun.
"There are too many my Lord." Juste whispered, "But I will try to hold them off while you escape."
"Excellent plan, Juste." Babbit whispered back.
Juste raised his gun at the Indians. "Stop right there, savages!" He shouted.
The Indian party stopped and Squanto held out his empty hands. "We mean you no harm. You are lost and cold. Let us take you back to our village where we can talk."
"You mean take us to your village and torture us!" Babbit shouted.
"We have nothing to say to each other." Juste snapped at Squanto, then whispered to Babbit, "Run, my Lord."
Babbit didn't need to be told twice. He started to run away, while Juste, keeping himself between Babbit and the Indians, ran backwards keeping his gun on them the whole time.
Squanto saw where the two men were heading and tried to shout a warning.
"Stop! There is a downward hill behind you!"
"HA! Think we're going to believe that trick?" Juste laughed at him.
But an instant later, Juste wasn't laughing as first Babbit, then himself went tumbling down the hill. The indian and the three Monkees ran to the edge and saw the two men roll down the hill. A few of the Indians snickered, but everyone else became concerned.
Babbit, who had seen the hill at the last second, managed to roll himself into a ball and landed largely unscathed at the bottom. Juste wasn't as fortunate. Caught by surprise, he tumbled wildly down the hill and landed in a heap by Babbit, his right ankle turned at an awkward angle. Babbit, for once showing concern for someone other than himself, scrambled over to Juste.
"Lester, are you alright?" Babbit asked, rolling Juste onto his back.
"My ankle." Juste moaned in pain, "Please, my Lord, run away! Save yourself! And please....take care of Samantha."
Babbit looked up the hill to see the Indians and the Monkees climbing quickly down the hill.
"I will...I promise you that." Babbit said sincerely, "And I will also avenge your death."
"Go, go now!" Juste gasped, grabbing Babbit's arm.
Babbit got up and ran off as the first of the Indians arrived at the base of the hill. They made to go after Babbit, but Squanto called them back.
"Let him go. We have to attend to this one." He said, then shouted loudly to Babbit's retreating form. "Keep running in that direction! You will find your village soon!"
Babbit gave no indication that he heard the Indian, but simply kept on running.
"He runs like a woman." One of the Indians chuckled.
Squanto simply smiled and walked over to Juste. The official looked up at him in fear.
"Just...just get it over with." Juste whispered.
But Squanto gently took Juste's ankle and looked it over. He looked up at the other Indians.
"I do not think it is broken. Let's carry him back to our village and let the medicine woman take care of him."
"We'll carry him." Mike volunteered.
Mike, Peter and Davy gently picked Juste up and carried him back up the hill. Juste looked at them in amazement.
"Why are you doing this?" He asked.
"You have an injured ankle, that's why." Peter said with a smile.
The official said nothing else as the party made its way back to the village.

Meanwhile, back at Plymouth, everyone was becoming worried. Neither Lord Babbit or Official Juste had returned from the woods. The people began to give Micky dark looks and Micky realized he was facing a lynching if they didn't return soon. Samantha was worried for her father as well. She looked at one of the men who had been with her father and Babbit.
"Why didn't one of you men stay with my father and Lord Babbit?" She demanded.
"They told us to return you and the traitor to town, my lady." The man answered, "But don't worry, your father has a gun with him."
But Samantha didn't looked pleased at all. They had been gone for far too long.
"They'll be fine, Samantha." Micky told her.
Samantha just nodded her head. Suddenly, a shout went up form the guards at the front gate. Lord Babbit was returning-alone! The townspeople, including Samantha, left the town square and ran over to the front gate. A few seconds later, an exhausted, dirty and frightened Babbit staggered through the gates. He waved off all help and walked over to Samantha. She curtsied as he came over, but Babbit took her by the hand and led her back over to the town square. Once there he looked at her sadly.
"Samantha my dear, I am so sorry, but your father and I were ambushed by those savages," Babbit pointed at Micky still in the stocks, "Including his three friends, and we had to run for our lives! Your father bravely tried to hold them off, but I am afraid he is now either dead...or a prisoner."
Samantha began to cry. Several townspeople began to grumble against Micky. He looked over at Samantha.
"Samantha! Your father will be alright! The Indians won't harm him!"
Babbit stormed up the steps of the platform, marched over to Micky and slapped him hard across the face.
"That is quite enough out of you!" Babbit thundered. "I promised Official Juste I would avenge his death and I'll start by hanging you!"
"Wait Lord Babbit, please!" Samantha cried as she too climbed up the platform. "We don't know if my father is alive or dead! If he is alive, maybe the Indians will offer a trade!"
Babbit considered this. "Perhaps you're right. If we hang this traitor now, they might kill your father in revenge." He took a deep breath. "Very well. I'll give those savages until sunrise tomorrow to contact us about your father. If not...he dies." Babbit gave Micky an evil smile, took Samantha's hand and led her off the platform. Before going to his house to clean up and rest, he gave orders to double the guards around the walls and make extra sure Micky did not escape.

The Indian party quickly made its way back to the village. When they arrived, Squanto and Howling Wolf went off to tell Massasoit what happened while another brave directed Mike, Peter and Davy, who were still carrying Official Juste, to another tent.
An elderly but kind-faced indian lady came out of the tent and motioned for them to bring Juste inside. Once inside, the three Monkees gently placed the town official on the soft fur of the tent. Juste looked around, eyes wide in pain and fear.
"What are going to do to me?" He asked.
"Just relax sir." Davy said, "This lady will look at your ankle."
The medicine woman removed Juste's shoe and sock and gently looked over the now-swollen ankle. She shook her head and said something in the indian language to her assistant and the assistant began putting leaves and herbs into a wooden bowl. The medicine woman ground up everything in the bowl and added a little water. Then, she added the paste to Juste's ankle and wrapped it all up with leaves. Finally, she tied the leaves in place with a leather string and using a wooden log, elevated the ankle.
The official was amazed at how much better his ankle felt; in fact, it seemed like the swelling was already coming down!
"Thank you." Juste said quietly to the medicine woman.
The woman smiled back. "You be better soon." She said proudly. "Now you rest. Sleep."
Then she gently escorted the three Monkees out of her tent. They went over to the community lodge where Squanto, Howling Wolf and other Indians were still talking to Massasoit. When the chief saw them, he motioned for them to come closer. He looked solemnly at the three men.
"I am very sorry for what has happened to your friend." Massasoit said, "We will do what we can to get him back."
"If Micky dies, we should kill the white man!" An indian exclaimed.
"Perhaps we can trade the white man for Micky." Howling Wolf said to the chief.
Massasoit nodded. "That would be the most peaceful way." He said, "But I still would like to talk to the injured white man. How is he?"
"The medicine woman put a poultice on his ankle and he's resting now." Peter replied.
"Good. When he has rested I will talk to him and perhaps we can find peace between our villages."

Lord Babbit went back to his house to wash, change clothes and rest. Never had he been so frightened in his life! He had come from a long line of noblemen who had distinguished themselves in various exploits. Babbit thought by running a colony in the wilderness of the New World would distinguish himself from his ancestors; but he never guessed it would be so rough! After a short nap, he heard the reports of what happened when the traitor and Samantha had been taken back to the village. The Governor was surprised; he thought sure the traitor would try to get away at any cost, but didn't want to risk any lives. Then there was all the food the traitor and his friends had brought back. Was it all a trick to gain the village's confidence, or did they sincerely try to keep them from starving? Trying to ignore the grumbling of his stomach, Babbit sat in his chair and tried to sort out what to do next.

In the town square, Micky was still be subjected to abuse by the townspeople. They threw rocks and snow at him and a few even came over and hit him. Finally, the guards chased the people away and told them to go to their jobs. Samantha walked over to Micky, her face still red from crying.
"Samantha, don't worry." Micky told her, "If the Indians have your father, they won't hurt him."
"But this is different, Micky!" She exclaimed, "The Indians were nice to us because we were nice to them. What will they do to someone who has always been hostile to them?"
Micky shook his head. "They might decide to exchange him for me. Perhaps your father and the Indian chief will talk and come to an understanding."
"I hope you're right, Micky." She said, wiping a tear away. "I lost my mother last year during what we called 'the starving time'. I don't want to lose my father now!" She began to cry again.
Micky wished he could hold her in his arms and comfort her, but he was still locked in the stocks. He looked at her.
"Please dear, go inside. It's cold out. I tears me up to see you like this."
"I'll go talk to Lord Babbit." Samantha replied. "See what I can do for you."
"Thank you, Samantha." Micky smiled.
Samantha nodded and went over to Babbit's house.

Back at the Indian village, Juste was carried over to the community lodge and given a warm bowl of turkey vegetable soup and some cornbread, which he quickly ate. His fears about the Indians were quickly going away. Everyone so far had treated him kindly, something he did not expect. Now Massasoit came into the lodge and sat down across from Juste. Mike, Peter, Davy, Squanto and Howling Wolf sat on either side of the chief and formed a circle joining the two men.
Massasoit nodded to Juste and Juste nodded back. The Indian chief lit a pipe, took a puff and passed it to Squanto. He looked at Juste for a moment then spoke.
"My name is Massasoit. I am the chief of this village, and you are an honored guest."
"My name is Lester Juste. I am an official in the town of Plymouth. I am grateful for your hospitality."
Juste was now handed the pipe. He looked over at the three Monkees. Davy motioned that Juste should take a puff. Juste did so and let out a loud cough. He quickly gave the pipe to Peter.
"We are friendly to all who come in peace, to all who need help." Massasoit replied. "I wish it was the same in your village."
Juste slowly nodded his head. "That is true, chief. I too was fearful of your people, but now I see that you are peaceful."
"There is so much we could teach you about the land." Massasoit replied, "We could teach you how to better hunt, plant crops and fish, if you would only let us."
"Then your people would not go hungry." Squanto added.
"We could trade many things with your people." Juste replied thoughtfully, "Like beads and iron tools so you can work better."
The others nodded in agreement. Massasoit and Juste continued to talk for a long time, and Juste promised to talk to Babbit and tell him about how he had been treated.
"But what about Micky?" Mike asked later on. "Lord Babbit is going to hang him, if he hasn't already."
Juste looked over at Massasoit. "Please let me go back. I might be able to help Micky."
Massasoit looked outside. "The sun is going down. It is dangerous to travel in the woods unless it is necessary, and you need to heal. Before dawn tomorrow, we will take you back and hope it is not too late."

Samantha went over to Babbit's house and to her surprise, she was granted an audience right away. Stepping inside his office, Samantha curtsied to Babbit.
"Hello, Samantha. Please sit down." Babbit said.
Samantha sat down on the chair in front of Babbit's desk. He looked sadly at her.
"I am so sorry at what has happened to your father." He said, "He and I go back a long way."
"Thank you, my Lord." Samantha replied.
"My men have told me what happened on the way back from where we captured the traitor." Babbit continued, "From what they tell me, the traitor avoided bloodshed."
"That is true, my Lord. Micky doesn't want war between our villages."
Babbit said nothing for a moment, then looked Samantha in the eye. "Before I was forced to leave your father behind, he told me to take care of you, so if your father is dead..." Babbit paused, "I going to send you back to England."
"Back to England?" Samantha echoed.
"Yes. This is no place for a young lady of culture and sophistication like yourself. You are a beautiful young woman and with your father's dowry, I'm sure your father's family will have no trouble arranging a marriage for you."
"But it is so beautiful here." Samantha whispered.
"But too dangerous. I'm also going to write to his Majesty to send us more troops to take care of the savage problem once and for all."
"They are not savages, my Lord!" Samantha exclaimed.
"How can you say that when your father is possibly their prisoner, being tortured for information about us as we speak?!" Babbit demanded.
"I just know they're not, my Lord." Samantha said more quietly, afraid to admit she had met Squanto.
Babbit just huffed in response. Samantha looked up at Babbit.
"My Lord, may I ask a favor of you?"
"Yes, child, you may." Babbit answered.
"Put Micky in the gaol instead of making stay in the stocks all night, please?"
"Why?" Babbit asked, "Those savages are probably doing worse to your father right now."
"To show we are better than they are." Samantha said. In reality, she simply couldn't stand seeing Micky suffer any more. "As the bible says, "Do unto others...."
Babbit shook his head. "Very well. But only for your father's sake. It will be easier to guard him in any case.” Babbit looked at the door. “Johnson!" Babbit yelled.
A young man ran into the room.
"Yes, my Lord?"
"Tell the guards to free the traitor from the stocks and place him in the gaol. And tell the Bailiff to make sure the traitor is secured."
"Yes, my Lord." Johnson hurried off.
"Thank you, my Lord." Samantha told him.
"It doesn't really matter. If we do not hear from your father by sunrise, the traitor still hangs. Now, please, go to your home and get some rest. It has been a trying day for you."
"Yes, my Lord." Samantha replied. She curtsied and left the room.
But instead of going straight home, she watched as Micky was taken from the stocks and marched over to the village gaol. Once inside, Micky was taken downstairs into the deepest part of the cellblock where a blacksmith locked iron chains around his wrists and ankles. Then Micky was put inside a cell, to await his fate.

The three Monkees, Squanto and Official Juste spent a long sleepless night in Squanto's tent. Juste's ankle kept him awake, despite the excellent treatment, and the others because they were very worried about Micky.
Mike, Peter and Davy even pinched themselves, hoping one of them would wake up from this terrible dream. Sadly, however, they stayed right where they were. It dawned on them that maybe they really were back in time....and if Micky died, he really would be dead.
Finally, Squanto arose and gently roused the others. Mike, Peter and Davy changed back into their 'white men' clothing, then carried Juste outside into the darkness. Already, the village was showing signs of life, with the women starting their cooking fires for the morning meal. But there would be no time for eating for the party gathering outside Squanto's tent; Micky's life was at stake.
Two braves brought over a hammock with a thick branch running through it. Juste was placed in the hammock, and Mike and Peter picked up the branch. Other Indians carried the animals they had caught the day before. Just before the party left, Massasoit came over to them. He had on a bearskin robe and had a walking stick in his hand.
"I am glad I made it here before you left, Squanto." Massasoit said. "I have decided to come with you."
Squanto, along with everyone else, was shocked at the news.
"Come with us, my chief?" Squanto asked, "With all due respect, it is much too dangerous for you to come near the white men's village."
Massasoit nodded. "I know, Squanto, but I feel the only way to achieve peace between the white men and us is to meet their leader face to face."
"As you wish, my chief." Squanto replied, but didn't look a bit happy about it.
"I will tell Lord Babbit to hear you out, Chief Massasoit." Juste said.
"Thank you." Massasoit replied. "That is all I ask."
As the very first rays of the sun began to shine over the horizon, the party set out towards Plymouth.

Micky too spent a sleepless night in his cell. He was glad to be out of the stocks, but still far from comfortable in his dark underground cell. Several times during the night, he pinched himself, hoping he would wake up from this bad dream, but he still found himself cold, hungry and shackled. Maybe he and the others really were back in time. Did they somehow fall into a hole in the time-space continuum like in that Star Trek show he liked to watch every week? It wasn't going to matter in any case if he was dead. Micky squeezed his eyes shut to hold back the tears.
Suddenly, Micky heard footsteps and then the door of his cell was thrown open. Standing in the door were three men, none of whom looked happy at all.
"Time to meet your maker, traitor." One man snarled.
"Oh no, please..." Micky begged.
But the men came into Micky's cell, pulled him to his feet and dragged him out. Micky struggled, but two of the men held his arms while another grabbed his wrist chains and pulled him along. Outside the gaol, there already was a crowd gathering to see what would happen. They shouted abuse at him as he was taken over to the town square. Lord Babbit and Samantha were already there, waiting for him, along with what looked to be the rest of the village. The sun was now about halfway up over the horizon, bathing everything in a red light.
"Bring him over here!" Babbit commanded the men.
The three men dragged Micky to a pole with a horizontal beam at the top that was next to the platform. A rope with a noose was dangling from that beam from a pulley. The free end was being held by two other men. Another man brought the noose down lower to the ground.
"Lord Babbit!" Micky shouted, "The Indians are friendly! They want to live in peace with us!"
"Please, my Lord!" Samantha added, "Give the Indians more time! Show mercy to Micky!"
"Why do you show such compassion to a traitor?!" Babbit demanded. "I've noticed you are always defending him and the savages!"
Samantha looked straight at Babbit and raised her chin. "Because I have met and talked to a savage, my Lord! I have talked to the one who has been helping the men you call traitors."
"What?!" Babbit shouted.
"His name is Squanto and I helped him free the four men when they were in the stocks!"
"Samantha, NO! You'll just end up like me!" Micky exclaimed.
"I can't believe you would do that!" Babbit shouted.
"Squanto speaks English and could have easily killed or kidnapped me that night, but he didn't!" Samantha said loudly, looking at all the townspeople, then back at Babbit. The people looked at each other in confusion.
Babbit was beside himself with rage. How could the girl do such a thing? He looked over at the men holding Micky.
"Put the noose on him!"
The men draped the noose around Micky's neck and pulled it tight, while other men prepared to pull the loose end of the rope and haul Micky off the ground.
"Please Lord Babbit..." Samantha began.
"I will deal with you later." Babbit said in a low angry voice, "Now you will be silent." He looked at Micky.
"Anything to say, traitor?" He demanded.
"I love you, Samantha." Micky said to her.
Lord Babbit smirked. "Pull..."
"SOUND THE ALARM!" A guard from the wall shouted, "The savages are coming!"
"They have Official Juste with them!" Another guard shouted, "And one savage is holding up a white flag!"
"Hold your fire!" Babbit shouted, "Let them inside!"
The gates of the village were opened, and the Indian party, with Juste supported on either side by Squanto and Massasoit, walked inside. Official Juste had insisted on walking in to show that he was ok. Mike, Peter and Davy, along with the other Indians carried in the food. They stopped in front of the town square. Samantha ran to her father.
"Oh, father! Thank heavens you are safe!" She cried, hugging him.
"Yes, Samantha, thanks to these kind Indians." Juste replied. He looked at Babbit. "It seems we are just in time, my Lord."
"Yes, it would seem so." Babbit said, "I am glad to see you alive, Lester."
"Thank you, my Lord." Juste replied, "And I ask that you give these men a chance to speak."
"Very well." Babbit sighed and looked at the Indians, "I suppose you are offering me my friend back in exchange for him." He said, pointing a thumb at Micky.
Massasoit stepped forward. "If you wish to see it that way, you may do so." He said gently, "But we are here to ask you not to kill our friend and to bring back your friend who was injured. I have spoken with your friend and told him of our ways, and he has told me of yours."
"My Lord, I was treated with the utmost kindness." Juste said, "Not once was I threatened or mistreated. I spent long hours talking to chief Massasoit and he and his tribe only want peace."
"The Indians have offered to teach all of us, men and women, better ways to hunt and gather food." Mike said, "If we all learn, we can save up food for the winter."
"We have all come here, unarmed, as a sign of trust." Massasoit said, stepping forward, "I am the chief, old and unarmed. Am I a threat to you?"
"No, no you're not." Babbit said quietly. This man was far from the savage he had been led to believe by others.
Massasoit held out his hand. After a long pause. Babbit took Massasoit's hand and shook it. Great cheering erupted from the townspeople. Babbit looked over at the men around Micky and motioned for them to let him go. The men let go of Micky and took the noose off his neck. Mike, Peter and Davy ran over to him and gave him a group hug. The blacksmith was called over and Micky's chains were finally knocked off his wrists and ankles. Once free, Micky walked over to Samantha and gave her a hug and kiss.
Juste was carried over to his house to be attended to by his servants, while Massasoit walked with Babbit to his house; there was much to discuss.

Several days went by and slowly the townspeople and Indians learned to trust each other. The Indians began to show everyone the same things Squanto had taught the Monkees and quickly there was soon enough food for everyone. A new crop was introduced by the Indians; they called it Maize, and showed the Settlers how to prepare it several ways. The other crops produced more food and soon there was plenty stored in the storehouses. Official Juste's ankle healed quickly. Micky and Samantha spent as much time as they could together, though usually under the eye of her father. Though Juste said nothing, he secretly approved of Micky, as he was one of the men who helped bring peace and understanding to the two villages.
Then one day, as everyone was gathered in the town square as usual for their daily assignments, Lord Babbit, along with Official Juste, Chief Massasoit and Squanto mounted the platform.
"Citizens of Plymouth!" Babbit said loudly, "Because of our friendship with chief Massasoit and his tribe, we now have enough food to last us through the winter!"
Everyone cheered at that. Babbit raised his hands for quiet.
"In honor of that, I have decided to declare next Thursday in this month of November in the year of our Lord 1621, to be a day of Thanksgiving to give thanks for all that has happened. We will celebrate with a large feast to be shared by white men and Indian alike!"
Once again, great cheering erupted. The Monkees smiled at each other. It was going to be the first Thanksgiving! The people of Plymouth and the Indians worked extra hard that week to make the feast a reality. Soon, the day came and over 90 Indians came into the town for the feast. Tables and benches were set up in the town square and everyone had their fill of delicious food. Micky had arranged it so he could sit next to Samantha. The other Monkees could see that the two were in love and were very happy for the couple.
It was late when the celebrations were over and everybody slowly went back to their homes. Micky escorted Samantha back to her house. On the way, he stopped and pulled her towards him.
"I love you, Samantha." Micky whispered as he kissed her.
"I love you as well, Micky." She replied, returning the kiss.
"Enough to be my wife?" Micky asked hopefully.
Samantha looked at him, her mouth open in shock. She kissed Micky again then gave him a sad smile.
"I would love nothing better, Micky." She said, "But it is not my decision to make. You would have to ask my father's permission first."
"Then I'll do that first thing tomorrow morning." Micky replied, "He should still be in a good mood from the feast tonight."
"I think so too." Samantha replied. "Goodnight, Micky."
"Goodnight, my love."
The two kissed, and Samantha went inside her house. Micky was so happy his feet didn't touch the ground as he walked home. When he got there, he found the other three waiting for him.
"Hmmm...You have quite a big smile on your face there, Micky." Mike said.
"I wonder from what?" Davy teased.
"I'll tell you three tomorrow." Micky said as he happily went into his bedroom.
The others looked at each other with smiles on their faces. They had a pretty good idea of what Micky was smiling about. But, they decided to wait until the morning to find out for sure.

Micky woke up feeling fresh and relaxed and just a bit nervous. Today he was going to ask Samantha's father for her hand in marriage! He pulled the covers off his head and all those feelings came crashing down on him.
Micky was back in his bedroom at the pad.
He jumped out of bed and looked around. Once again, he was surrounded by the crazy wallpaper and posters plastered on the walls. His long nightshirt was replaced by his usual striped pj's. Micky looked over and saw Mike quietly snoring in his bed. The drummer didn't need to go to the window to know he'd see the ocean instead of forest. He plopped down on his bed, totally shocked.
"No, oh no." He moaned. "Why now? Why did I wake up now?"
Micky got up and gently shook Mike awake. Mike opened his eyes, took one look at Micky's pj's and bolted upright in bed.
"Micky...?" Mike began.
"Mike, I had the most awesome dream last night." Micky said, "We had gone back in time to the first Thanksgiving and we met Squanto and..."
"And brought peace between the white settlers and Indians." Mike finished for him.
Micky looked at Mike in shock. "You...you had the same dream too?"
"Yeah, I did." Mike said, putting his feet on the floor and looking around. "And Babbit was the Governor."
"I wonder if Peter and Davy..." Micky began.
His question was answered when he and Mike heard footsteps on the hurricane steps and banging on their bedroom door.
"Mike! Micky! Davy shouted.
"Come on in!" Mike shouted back.
Davy and Peter, once again dressed in their twentieth-century pj's, ran into the room.
"You blokes won't believe this!" Davy exclaimed, "Peter and I both dreamed..."
"That we were all pilgrims!" Peter finished.
"And Squanto taught us how to hunt, fish and gather crops." Micky said.
"And Babbit was the Lord Governor." Mike said.
"You too?" Davy asked, amazed.
"Yep." Mike said, nodding his head, "Micky even fell in love with a girl."
"Yeah, Samantha." Micky said softly, hanging his head. He sat down on his bed and put his head in his hands.
The other three walked over to him. Peter patted him on the back.
"We're sorry, Micky. Samantha was beautiful." He said.
Micky looked up at his three friends. "Remember last night, when I came home, smiling?" He asked sadly.
Mike, Peter and Davy nodded.
"Well, I had asked Samantha to marry me."
"What did she say?" Davy asked.
"She said 'yes' but said I had to ask her father's permission first." Micky replied, sighing. "I was going to ask him this morning, but...but..."
"You woke up from your dream, or one of us did." Mike finished.
Micky nodded and looked at the floor. "Why did I have to wake up now? Why didn't I wake up when I was in that cell waiting to be hanged?" He asked, anger creeping into his voice.
Nobody knew what to say to Micky. They were all very sorry this happened to him, and were a little angry themselves that Micky lost his love. Finally, Peter spoke up.
"I know this won't help, Micky, but try to remember it was all just a dream, a very real dream."
Micky just kept looking at the floor. Mike sighed and looked at Peter and Davy.
"Let's all change clothes and go for a walk on the beach." He said, "It might cheer us up."
The others agreed and went off to change clothes. Once they were changed, they had some coffee and listened to the radio. According to the announcers, it was the day after Thanksgiving, so though the Monkees had spent weeks in Plymouth, only a night had passed in their time. Just as they were about to head out to the beach, there was a banging on their door. Mike went over and opened it. To his complete surprise, their landlord Mr. Babbit stood there, a scowl on his face as usual.
"Lord Babbit!" Micky, Peter and Davy yelled as they ran over to the door.
"Flattery will get you four long-haired weirdoes nowhere!" Babbit snapped, "The rent is still due on the first of the month! But the reason I'm here is to introduce you to your new neighbors."
Babbit stepped aside to reveal two people standing behind him. "This is Lester Juste and his daughter Samantha, they just immigrated from England..."
Babbit got no further because the Monkees let out a cheer and pulled Lester and Samantha inside, slamming the door in Babbit's face. The landlord scowled and marched away.
"Crazy kids." He muttered.
Inside, the Monkees were beside themselves with joy, because Lester and Samantha looked exactly like they were in their dream last night! The Monkees gave them both big hugs.
"I say!" Lester exclaimed. "You yanks are a friendly bunch!"
"Well, I'm Davy and I'm English as well, Mr. Juste." Davy replied, "And I think you and your daughter will like it here."
Micky walked over to Samantha. "My name's Micky." He said, taking Samantha's hand and looking into her green eyes. "And welcome to America."
"Thank you." Samantha replied, squeezing Micky's hand a little. "I like it here already."
The other three Monkees smiled at the pair. Micky smiled back at them. Dreams sometimes really do come true.


THE END

By: Mickys411 and Larrysgirl  Rated G

Twas the month of Christmas and all through the pad, usually there was not a creature stirring, though on occasion a mouse or two would appear.
However, today was different, for it was the first day of December, and The Monkees were preparing for the jolly holiday.
Mike was making a list, and checking it twice, Davy was figuring out the family members and girls to send cards to, while Peter and Micky were getting decorations from the upstairs closet.
"You think we got all the ornaments?" asked Peter, checking the closet to see if they had everything they needed.
"Just about," answered Micky, balancing some boxes in his hands.
As they headed downstairs, Davy called to them.
"Careful there fellas, we gotta make those last cuz we can't afford new ones you know," he said.
"Yeah, and we gotta put this stuff up before the Fourth of July," said Mike.
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
"I'll get it," said Peter.
He placed the boxes down and went to answer the door.
When he opened it, there stood Mr. Babbit, standing in a scrooge like position, and a grinchy look on his face.
"Season's Greeting sir," said Peter, sounding cheery.
"What's so good about it?" asked Babbit.
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean is you're late with the rent!"
The other Monkees came over to see what was happening.
"What's going on?" asked Davy.
"Babbit says we're late with the rent," said Peter.
"I thought we paid it yesterday," said Micky.
"That's when you were three months late,” said Babbit, “And if you don't bring me the rest of the late payment by midnight on Christmas Eve, out you go!"
Babbit then left in a huff, leaving the four Monkees in a sigh.
"So, what are we going to do?" asked Peter.
"Well, we still got it, maybe we can get some extra gigs this season," said Davy.
"At the clubs, but most people go away for the holidays," said Mike.
"In the meantime, maybe we should do something, to take our minds off the problem," said Micky.
The guys decided to decorate the pad.
While decorating, Peter dropped an ornament from where he was standing at the top of the staircase, it landed on the floor and rolled over by the couch.
"Sorry," Peter called from the top.
"It's ok, I'll get it," said Micky.
He went to the couch to pick up the ornament, but saw an article in the paper that caught his eye.
"Hey check this out."
He began to read the article, "Wanted Help for the Holidays Great Pay and Benefits No Experience Needed."
"Say we need great pay and benefits," said Davy.
"And we don't have experience," said Peter.
"I don't know you guys," said Mike.
"Come on, Mike, you said we weren’t going to get that many gigs,” said Davy, “I know it's not performing, but we can use the extra cash."
"I think it’s a good idea," said Micky.
"Me too," said Peter.
Mike thought for a minute, then thought that getting the job will help pay the rent. So the guys headed down to the shopping mall to apply for the job.

When they got to the mall, they went to the manager and asked about the opening.
"So you see sir,” said Mike, “We're musicians, but we could use the extra money for the season."
"Well, you gentlemen sound interested in the position, so I'll give you each a job," said the manager.
"That’s groovy," said Peter.
"Thank you very much sir," said Davy.
"Which department do we start in?" asked Micky.
"Actually, I got all the help I need in the store. What I need is an actor to play Santa and his elves.”
The Monkees then began to have second thoughts whether to take the job or not, but they needed the extra money, so they decided to go for it.
Moments later, Mike was dressed up in a Santa suit, complete with red suit and a white beard.
"This is embarrassing," he said.
"How do you think we look," called Davy from behind.
Mike turned to see that he, as well as Peter and Micky were wearing matching elf costumes, with funny hats and pointy shoes. Micky had trouble though keeping his hat on, because of his curly hair. Just then, the manager came to check on them.
"You gentlemen look great,” said the manager, “However, we do have a problem."
"What's that?" asked Mike.
"The two actors I hired to play reindeer quit on me."
"I wish there was something we can do," said Peter.
"Maybe there is."
Moments later, Mike was still Santa, Davy was still an elf, but now Peter was a reindeer as was Micky, who had a fake red nose on.
"Micky the red-nosed reindeer," Davy started to sing.
"You should talk." Micky replied with a smirk, "You're perfect for that costume."
"Hey!" Davy retorted as Peter chuckled.
"Enough you two." Mike said, pulling his fake beard down, "We don't want to get fired before we start the job."
The manager walked back over to them.
"Ok, boys." He said, looking over their costumes. "Here's what I want you to do. Santa will go over to that big chair sitting in the middle of the store and sit down. His elf will lead the children over to him and help them sit on his lap, if needed." The manager looked at Peter and Micky. "You two will stand on the side and give out candy-canes to the kids once they are done talking to Santa. Got that?"
"Got it sir." Mike replied.
"Good. Now go out there and smile and give them the old Christmas spirit!" The manager exclaimed. He pushed them out of the employee area and pointed to where they were supposed to go.
Mike put his fake beard back in place and then led the way over to the where 'Santa' would be sitting.
"I hope this works out ok." Peter said to the others.
"How hard can it be?" Micky replied, "We'll just stand there and smile and hand out a few candy-canes. We'll have that rent money in no time!"
But Micky's optimism faded at the sight of dozens of kids and their parents impatiently waiting for Santa to come.
"A 'few' candy-canes, Micky?" Davy asked.

"We want Santa! We want Santa!" the children chanted.
There was even some screaming and crying in the calls.
At that Moment, The Monkees appeared dressed in their costumes. The crowd began to cheer.
"See, I told it was not going to be so bad," said Micky.
He and Peter got to the hand-built Santa house, Davy got in front of the line, where the children were standing, and Mike sat in the red chair, placed in the center of the make-believe village.
"Ok, who wants to see Santa?" Davy asked the kids trying to sound cheerful.
"Me! Me! Me!" the kids cried out.

It was a long and tiring day for the guys, they got kicked, punched, screamed in the ears, and a few times almost got bitten. Though despite all the craziness, The Monkees still managed to smile it out. When they got home, the guys iced the bruises they received from a few irate kids.
"Boy what a day we had,” said Mike, “Screaming, yelling, bickering, and some were actually on the good list."
"It was not just the kids we had problem with." said Davy.
"The parents didn't seem that bad," said Peter, putting a bag of ice on his arm, where a bruise was. "It's the way we look. I was trying to get some girls under the mistletoe, a few of them laughed, some of them slapped me, and one even threatened to call the police.”
Micky then began to chuckle.
Davy turned to him and said, “You shouldn't be the one to laugh."
"Why?" Micky asked.
"Take a look in the mirror.”
Micky did just that, and saw that he had a mark on his face where he wore the fake nose.
Now it was Davy's turn to chuckle.
"Very funny," Micky muttered.
"I hope it's not so crazy tomorrow," said Peter.
"Let's hope so, because we have one day down and 24 more to go," sighed Mike.

It did get better in the next few days, the next batches of kids got nicer by the days, and of course Davy still got laughed at by a few girls. However, there were some who said that he looked cute and he did get a few dates.

A week went by and the Monkees slowly got used to their jobs. As Christmas got closer, the kids (and their parents) behaved better and the guys got fewer bruises. In fact, they were beginning to enjoy the job a little, to see the kids' eyes light up when they sat on Santa's lap.
Micky, Mike and Peter were watching TV in the living room, and Mike had an ice pack on his knee. Davy came down the hurricane steps, all dressed up.
"Where you off to?" Micky asked.
"To enjoy one of the perks of our job." Davy replied, "I'm going on a date with a girl who was taking her little brother to see Santa."
"Have fun." Peter said.
"Not too late, Davy," Mike reminded him. "We have to be at work early."
"Yes, Papa Nez." Davy smiled, then left the pad.
Mike took the ice pack off his knee, got up and placed it in the sink. He was limping a bit.
"How's your knee feeling, Mike?" Micky asked.
"Better. All those kids jumping onto it made it real sore."
"Well, look at the bright side." Peter said.
"What's that, Peter?" Mike asked.
"At least nobody wet you today."
Mike just sighed.

The next day, The Monkees got to the mall bright and early to get their costumes on; they thought they look rather silly walking around the streets dressed up. The guys noticed Davy yawning a lot.
"You stayed out late didn't you?" said Mike with a laugh.
"Midnight's not too late," said Davy.
Micky noticed Peter was walking funny.
"Say Pete, what's with the new dance step?" Micky asked.
"I got an itch on my back and I can't reach it," said Peter.
"Why didn't you scratch your back before?"
"It wasn't itchy then."
Peter rubbed his back against a pole.
"My itch is gone," sighed Peter.
He noticed the guys chuckling.
"What's so funny?"
"I think you better turn around Peter," said Mike.
Sure enough, the back of Peter's costume was covered with paint.
"Where did that come from?" asked Davy.
"They must have put a fresh coat on the village," said Micky.
"Well we gotta cover it up, because you know that spot is noticeable."
The guys tried to spread the paint around the scenery but it was just making the mess look worse and they were getting paint all over themselves. Just then, the village began to tip and fall over. Luckily, the guys moved just in time.
"I hope nobody saw what happened," said Mike, whose fake beard was falling off.
At that moment, they heard loud screams. The guys turned to see that there were kids waiting in line to see Santa, but all they saw was a fallen down holiday village and a Santa without a beard.
The manager ran to the scene. He saw that the village was collapsed on the ground and the Monkees covered in paint.
"You're fired!" Screamed the manager.

Awhile later, The Monkee left the mall, with not such jolly looked on their faces.
"Cheer up fellas, at least we did make some money out of it," said Peter.
"I think we would have made more, if we didn't destroy the Santa village," said Mike.
"If we didn't destroy the Santa village, we would have made more money," said Davy.
"Because we wouldn't be in trouble?" asked Peter.
"That too, plus we'd still have jobs," said Micky.
As the guys walked through town, the saw that the local china shop needed some holiday help. So they guys thought work was work, and they went to apply for the job.

The guys walked into the china shop, being VERY careful to stay away from the shelves full of expensive china dishes and cups. They didn't want a repeat of what happened at the Christmas village. A formal looking man wearing a suit walked over to them.
"May I help you?" He said stiffly.
"Uh, yeah." Mike said, "We saw your sign for holiday help and we'd like to apply for the job."
"Have you gentlemen had any experience in dealing with china?"
"No, the President of the United States takes care of that." Peter replied.
"I once drank tea from one of my grandmother's china cups." Micky said. "Then I broke the cup and was grounded for a week."
"No sir." Mike put in quickly, glaring at Micky and Peter. "But we know it is fragile and we'll be careful with it."
"I'm sorry, but we can't have you youngsters...."
Just then the manager came over. "Fred, they're the only applicants we've had all week and we need the help." He looked at the Monkees. "Your jobs will be to keep the shelves clean and stocked with items. Plus you will assist any customers that need help. But anything you boys break, it will be taken out of your salary. Do you understand?"
"We understand sir." Davy replied.
"Good, then you're hired." The manager said. "Come back tomorrow at eight O’clock wearing nicer clothes than what you have on now and Fred will show you what to do."
"Yes sir, Thank you sir!" The Monkees replied, hugging him.
They left the china shop happy, hoping it would last longer than the Santa job so they could pay their rent.

The Monkees arrived at the china shop the next day.
Although the manager was pleased to see the guys, however Fred was still unsure of allowing long haired freaks working at a sophisticated shop.
But to Fred's surprise, as was the manager's, the Monkees did a fantastic job helping the customers, keeping the shop clean, and carefully dusting the shelves with the items on them. The manager was impressed by The Monkees hard work, but Fred was still wasn't fond of them.
Everything seemed to be going the guys’ way, until one day…
Mike was helping a customer, while Micky and Davy were fixing the store, when a delivery man came to the door holding a large box.
Peter decided to take it, however he didn't realize how heavy the box was. In fact it was so heavy, that he couldn't hold it and dropped it.
As Peter picked up the box, he noticed something written on it.
"Hey guys, hey fellas," he said.
"What?" asked Davy.
"I know this stuff is breakable, but what does ‘fragile’ mean?"
The other Monkees didn't know what to do, so they actually dropped other items themselves.
At that moment, the manager and Fred appeared out of the store office.
"What was that crash?" asked the manager.
"Well sir, uh you see," said Mike, who was then interrupted by Fred who shouted, “Look what you did!"
"I guess that means you have to really take it out of our salaries sir," said Davy.
Just as the manager was about to say something, Fred once again broke in, "I think it's cheaper just to fire them.”
The manager agreed and the Monkees were fired from another job.
"Such a shame, they were hard workers too," said the manager.
"I didn't like them," said Fred.
The manager then turned to Fred and said, "If you weren’t my nephew…"

Once again, The Monkee walked down the street with not such jolly looks on their faces.
"Look on the bright side fellas,” said Micky, “At least this job lasted then our last one."
"Yeah, one and a half days longer," said Davy.
"But we got more checks. We're closer to paying the rent," said Peter.
"Yeah, but with all the damages, we still have a ways to go," said Mike. "We still have ten days to go before Christmas eve. We still have some time."
As they walked Micky noticed a sign.
"Hey, check it out," he said.
It turns out the floral shop was looking for help, so the guys went in the store to apply.
The guys walked up to the front desk where a lady with glasses sat with a hanky to her face.
"May I....ACHOO!!...help you?" She asked.
"We saw your sign looking for help." Mike said, "We'd like to apply."
"Oh, terrific!" She yelled, "ACHOO!"
"Bless you." Peter said.
"Thank you. I need someone to take over for me!" The lady said, blowing her nose, "I'm allergic to flowers...Ah..ACHOO!"
"Are you the manager?" Micky asked.
"Yes, why?" The lady asked, puzzled.
"Nothing." Micky replied, not wanting to know why she would be the manager of a flower shop if she was allergic to flowers.
The lady came around the front of the desk, with four green aprons.
"Put these on...achoo!...and you can follow me."
The Monkees weren't too happy about wearing aprons, but did what the lady said. She led them to a back room, and showed them how to cut flowers and place them in vases. The Monkees took some roses and tried to cut them...
"OW!" Davy yelled, "I pricked my finger!"
"Wear gloves!" The manager said, rolling her eyes. "I'll be right back.”
The guys put on bright yellow gloves and tried again. This time the gloves were too bulky to grab the scissors.
"I know." Mike said, "Davy, you hold the flowers, Peter, you take off your gloves and use the scissors to cut the roses."
"What do I do?" Micky asked.
"Just stand there and learn."
Davy held the roses, and Peter took off his gloves and picked up the scissors. He then started to cut the rose stems. After awhile, the manager, still sneezing, came to check up on them.
"How are you boys doing?" She asked. "ACHOO!"
The Monkees showed her the cut flowers. The manger took one look and let out a scream.
"What have you done to my roses! ACHOO!" She yelled.
"What's wrong?" Peter asked. "We cut the roses like you said."
"You cut them too short! You're supposed to leave some stem on them! Achoo!" She replied angrily.
Sure enough, the guys had cut too much stem off and just the rose was left.
"Maybe you can sell them as boutonnières or corsages?" Micky smiled.
"GET OUT!" She yelled, "You're fired! AH...ACHOO!"
"Gesundiet!" They replied.
"OUT!"
The Monkees ran out of the shop, out of a job once again.

Once again, the Monkees walked down the street, feeling even more depressed then they had been.
"Well fellas, we should congratulate ourselves," said Mike.
"Why, we just got fired." said Davy.
"We got fired from a job in 20 minutes. That's a new record for us."
"What kind of record is that?" asked Peter.
"The shortest time we spent on a job," said Micky.
When the guys returned to the pad, they were wondering what they were going to do about finding work, so they can pay the rent.

"So, what are we going to do now?" asked Davy.
"I don't know, we got fired from every job in town," said Micky.
Mike checked the paper, and something that caught is eye.
"Hey Guys, look at this!" Mike exclaimed.
Micky, Peter and Davy ran over.
"What is it?" Micky asked.
"Mrs. V. Riche needs a band to play at her annual orphans’ Christmas party." Mike read. "Auditions are tomorrow."
"Playing as a band, that's one thing we can do right." Davy said with a smile.
"Let's rehearse and go to bed so we can get there early." Peter told the others.
"Why, Peter?" Mike said, "I'm sure nobody going to want to audition for an orphans’ party.”
"Yeah, Pete," Micky said, "All the other bands around are probably taking a break from doing gigs."

The next morning, the Monkees were one among a dozen other bands waiting in the foyer of Mrs. Riche's mansion. Peter was wide awake because he had gone to bed early, while the other three were still yawning.
"I guess these bands didn't know they were supposed to take a break, huh, Micky?" Davy yawned.
Micky hit Davy over the head with his drumstick.
"Oh, we'll win the audition, guys." Mike said quietly, looking at the other groups. "I mean, would you hire a group with the name 'The Beatles'? Or ‘The Rolling Stones'?"
"Or 'The Who'? Micky added.
"Who?" Peter asked.
"Not who, The Who." Mike said.
"That's what I said, who?" Peter asked again.
"Skip it."
"Man, I hope we get this gig." Micky said, "We don't have nearly enough to pay Babbit."
The door opened and one of the bands walked out, carrying their equipment. As they were leaving, everyone heard a voice calling out:
"Thank you, Herman's Hermits!"
Herman's Hermits sat down on some chairs and began talking amongst themselves about the audition. The door opened, and an immaculately dressed older woman appeared and looked out over the assembled bands.
"Monkees!" She called out, "You are next!"
The Monkees jumped up, picked up their gear, and went inside. Once inside the ballroom, they quickly set up on the bandstand, while the older lady sat down and watched them. With her were two small children, a boy and a girl, both about eight years old. When they were finished setting up, Mike walked over to the microphone.
"Uh, Hello, Mrs. Riche." Mike said, "Thank you for letting us audition for you."
"You're welcome." Mrs. Riche smiled, "Now show us what you can do."
Mike nodded to the others and they launched into 'Last train to Clarksville', followed by 'Steppin' Stone' and 'Words'. Finally, they did 'Silent Night' and 'Jingle Bells'. All throughout the audition, Mrs. Riche and the children whispered to each other. When the Monkees were done, Mrs. Riche walked over to the guys.
"Very good, gentlemen." She said, "Please wait outside. After all the bands are done, Johnny and Susan from the orphanage will help me decide which band I want."
"Ok, Mrs. Riche." The Monkees said, as they tore down their gear and went to wait outside.

Time dragged as the Monkees had to wait for all the other bands to audition. Finally, Mrs. Riche, Johnny and Susan came to see the bands.
"Attention, everyone!" Mrs. Riche announced, "We've made a decision! My little friends and I have decided that The Monkees will play at the orphans’ party Christmas Eve!"
The Monkees cheered at that. The other bands just shook their heads, but a few, like the Beatles, offered congratulations. Soon, the other bands were gone, and it was just the Monkees, Mrs. Riche and the two orphan children standing in the foyer.
"Gee, thanks, Mrs. Riche for hiring us!" Peter exclaimed.
"Well, I like to let the children decide what group to play for them." Mrs. Riche replied.
The guys knelt down in front of the two orphans, big smiles on their faces.
"Thank you kids for choosing us." Micky said, "What put us over the other groups?"
"What song did you like best?" Davy asked.
"Oh, it wasn't just the songs." Susan said.
"What was it then?" Davy asked, "Our personalities?"
"It was his green hat!" Johnny exclaimed, pointing at Mike.
"We thought his hat was funny!" Susan finished with a laugh.
The other Monkees joined in her laughter as Mike closed his eyes. No matter what the reason, at least they had a job to get money for the rent.

As the Monkees drove home from the orphanage, they were worried on what they were going to tell Babbit about not having the rent money.
Just then, Mike stopped the car.
"Hey, why did we stop?" asked Micky.
"Fellas, I was thinking,” said Mike, “There's only one thing to do in our solution."
"What's that?" asked Davy.
The guys looked out the car window, and saw that they were parked in front of the local pawn shop.
"Do you mean what I think you mean?" asked Peter.
"I'm afraid so,” said Mike, “I'm going to pawn my guitar.”
He stepped out of the Monkeemobile, took his black electric guitar out of the back seat, and headed inside the shop.
"You know, I never expected this from Mike," said Davy.
"Me neither," said Micky.
Peter sighed and said, “I think I know what I have to do."
Meanwhile, inside the pawn shop, a shady looking man was inspecting Mike's guitar.
"Mmm, great condition, nice color, good quality," said the pawn shop owner.
"So, you'll take it?" asked Mike.
"I'll give you 100 dollars for it."
Mike handed his guitar over with a sigh, and accepted the cash.
Just then, Peter, Micky and Davy entered the shop.
"Fellas, what are you doing?" Mike asked.
"It wouldn't be fair for us to have instruments and not you," said Davy.
Suddenly, Mike didn't really feel so bad about giving up his guitar. Peter got 50 dollars for his keyboard, and another 55 for his bass, Davy got 10 for his tambourine and maracas, and Micky got the most money, 120 for his drums.
"Pleasure doing business with you gentlemen, and Merry Christmas," said the pawn shop owner.
"Yeah, Merry Christmas," sighed the Monkees leaving the shop.

There was a somber moment in the Monkeemoblie during the ride home.
"Cheer up guys,” said Peter, “When the new year comes, people will ask us to play at parties, then we can buy our instruments."
"We can't perform without our instruments," said Davy.
"Come on fellas, its Christmas,” said Micky.
"What's there to be merry about?"
"At least were not in the same situation as those kids we played for tonight."
The guys remembered the look on those kids’ faces, how they were smiling despite the ragged clothes they were dressed in, and their condition of living.

"Yeah, you're right,” said Mike, "Let's just give Babbit the rent, then we'll figure out what to do about getting our instruments back."
The guys pulled up to the pad, got out of the car and headed next door to Babbit’s.
They knocked on the door, and Mr. Babbit answered it.
"What do you want?" asked Babbit, still in his grinchy tone of voice.
"We have something for you Mr. Babbit," said Mike.
"This better be important, I have to get up early tomorrow, to catch a train to San Diego, so I can spend Christmas with my sister and her family.
"We got the rent sir," said Davy.
They handed Babbit the money. He couldn't believe how much money the Monkees had.
Babbit counted it again and again to see if was all there and if it was real money.
"How did you get all this?" asked Babbit who was surprised.
"We had to pawn our instruments,” sighed Micky.
"We hope that's all the money," said Peter.
"It is,” said Babbit, “You were two months late, plus taxes and repair costs.”
Just then, the town clock tower struck 12 midnight.
"Ahh, music to my ears,” said a very happy Mr. Babbit, “Merry Christmas.”
He then slammed his door shut.
The Monkees let out four large sighs and headed back to the pad.
When the entered their house, they looked to see what a shabby job they did with decorating, and the empty spot where a tree was suppose to be.
"Too bad we didn't get a tree," said Peter.
"Yeah, but we didn't have the time to get one," said Mike.
"Come on fellas, it's late," said Davy.
"Yeah, let's just call it a night," said Micky.
All four Monkees agree to sleep throughout Christmas, even Peter, who loved the holiday season, thought it was a good idea as well.

Early the next morning, the guys were awoken by a loud crash, even Micky who was a sound sleeper got up.
"What was that?!" Exclaimed Micky.
"It sounds like it came from downstairs," said Mike.
"Maybe it's a burglar." Said Peter, sounding scared.
"What do we have worth stealing? said Davy, “We pawned our instruments last night.”
"Quiet guys!” said Mike, “Lets go check this out."
The Monkees went downstairs; there was nobody, but they saw something.
"Hey look." said Peter.
He and the other Monkees saw that there was a Christmas tree in the middle of the pad, which was fully decorated and had presents at the bottom.
The Monkees were not only surprised by the tree, but what was under it.
"It's all our instruments!" said Davy.
The guys checked to be sure, and sure enough, it was their instruments, plus new equipment.
"This actually turned out to be a pretty groovy Christmas," said Micky, twirling his new pair of drumsticks in his fingers.
"It needs one more touch," said Peter.
He placed the angel that Johnny and Susan made on top of the tree.
Peter then noticed a note on one of the branches.
"Looks like we got a card too," said Mike.
"What does it say?" asked Davy.
"Dear Monkees, Merry Christmas, from a friend," said Peter, reading the card.
"Say guys,” said Micky, “Do you suppose…?"
The guys thought for a minute.
"Naw," they answered together.
Indeed the Monkees did have a wonderful Christmas, and the angel on the tree shone extra brightly on that day.

Merry Christmas to all!