“Do you have your dress for the Christmas Masquerade Ball?” Margaret’s father asked, as he drank his breakfast coffee. Sitting under a large chandelier in the dining room, he finished his eggs on gold-plated dinnerware. A sleek chrome Toastmaster, the latest electric pop-up toaster, gleamed on the counter.
Mr. Bayard, a former United States Senator, had put marrying his daughter to an upstanding man on the top of his Christmas wish list. It was definitely on the list above a new, hand-knit stocking or box of candy canes.
“Father, I still need to find a proper gown,” Margaret said, as she sipped her tea. “I’m thinking about Dior’s New Look.” She already knew who she wanted to marry, James Miller, even if her father disapproved of him.
“I just want to make sure that you look your best when meeting new people,” her father said, as he opened The New York Times across the table. Every morning, Margaret watched him read the newspaper for the latest on Eisenhower, Truman, and the United Nations.
“Must you really present me to high society, especially at Christmas?” the 21-year-old asked. “If I have to attend, at least I can wear a mask.”
“We need to find you someone who is good enough for you,” her father said. “No one is good enough for my beautiful daughter.”
“Not good enough? He’s a swell guy,” Margaret said. “Don’t give me the third degree! I’m simply wild about him. James has been my best friend my entire life.”
“He’s not the son of a former President of the United States, or a diplomat, or nobility or any ambassador or governor,” her father said, as he folded the morning newspaper into a stack on the table. “Your mother would want better for you.”
“Mother would want me to marry James,” Margaret said. “She always loved him and said he reminded her of you.”
“She’s been gone now almost a year. I can hardly believe it,” Margaret’s father said. He looked out the window. “James has exemplary military service, but I want the best for you.”
Hiding her disappointment in her mother’s death, Margaret changed the subject. She always tried to be strong for her father. He seemed so lonely since her mother passed away.
“Besides, James is in law school,” she said. “He was a Marine. I’m sure he could be a Senator one day. Just because his father wasn’t a Senator means nothing.”
Margaret picked up the golden invitation to the Christmas Masquerade Ball that sat on the table. She put it in her purse. Then, she flipped through Life Magazine and The Saturday Evening Post to see if she could find any dress ideas.
Not only would the event be held in the Grand Ballroom at the Waldorf Astoria on Fifth Avenue, but there would also be a week of parties leading to the Christmas Eve Ball. She would be escorted by one military cadet and one civilian, but neither of her choice.
“Fine, I will go!” Margaret said. “And I’m not telling James a thing about it . . .”
“By the end of the evening, you’ll practically be engaged to someone else,” her father said. “You’ll have a suitor by morning.”
As Margaret finished her breakfast, she remembered that she must meet James in Central Park by noon. She grabbed her white cashmere sweater and forest green wool princess coat and headed to the door.
“I promised James that I would go on a carriage ride with him through Central Park today,” Margaret said to her father. “He loves me.”
“Don’t be late!” her father chided. “You might lose your glass slipper or something.”
When Margaret arrived in Central Park in a yellow Checker Cab, she found James as it started to snow. She fluffed the flared skirt of her coat and adjusted the high black velvet collar and fur cuffs.
“You look lovely,” he said, as he kissed her cheek.
The couple climbed in the carriage and bundled themselves in a red blanket as the driver started the ride. Jingle bells jostled as the stately brown horse pulled the carriage through the winding trails of Central Park.
“Marry me, darling!” James said to her. He pulled a small red box from his pocket. He opened it to a heart-shaped diamond that glistened in the winter sunshine. “I’ll love you my entire life. Please let me have the honor of being your husband,” he said.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Margaret said. She threw her arms around him and kissed him deeply. “But we mustn’t tell father until after Christmas . . .”
Margaret slipped the ring on her left hand, put the ring box in her purse, and enjoyed the rest of the journey. As the horses stopped at the end of the ride, Margaret stepped from the carriage. She held James’ hand tightly.
Then, a large gust of wind lifted the invitation to the Christmas Masquerade Ball, and it flew from her purse onto the sidewalk. James picked it up and shoved it in his pocket.
Of course, Margaret didn’t notice the missing invitation. She was so enamored with her ring that she could hardly speak. Later that evening when she returned home, she hid the engagement ring in its box in the bottom of her purse.
“Where did that invitation go?” she said to herself. “Oh, Father probably has an extra one. I hope James didn’t see it.”
As she entered the brass-gated elevator up to her father’s penthouse apartment, she considered where to get a Christmas ball gown. The operator pressed the top floor.
When she stepped from the elevator, her father’s Victrola played Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas.” She also loved Judy Garland’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” from the film Meet Me in St. Louis and Nat King Cole’s “The Christmas Song.”
When Christmas music wasn’t playing, Margaret liked to listen to the Andrews Sisters. James once gave her their “Winter Wonderland” record and sheet music for her collection. He was always doing kind things like slipping ribbon candy into her pocket.
She ran into the kitchen to grab some homemade fudge with a Coca-Cola. Christmas stockings from Woolworth’s hung over the fireplace. Their Christmas tree glowed with bubble lights, silver tinsel, and ornaments.
Her father had started to collect toys for the younger cousins, like a Lionel electric train set, Slinkys, Tinkertoys, a porcelain doll, and a Shirley Temple doll.
“I will tell James that I have to go to this horrid ball to please my father, and I’m not interested in anyone else,” she said to herself. “James will understand somehow. Then, I will announce my engagement to James on New Year’s Day. That seems the best idea . . .”
For the next week, Margaret searched for the perfect gown and outfits for the week of parties leading up to the Ball.
She found an ideal half-mask—covering her eyes, cheeks, and nose with red accents, gold leaf, and music note paper. It reminded her of the time she danced with James to Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong’s song “Cheek to Cheek.”
As the week of festivities approached, Margaret used the rotary telephone on the hallway table to call James and tell him that she was fulfilling her father’s last wish before they got married. She would attend the Christmas Masquerade Ball without him.
“I understand,” James said. “I wish I could go with you, but it’s okay.”
“It’s my last big hurrah with father before we marry. New Year’s Day we’ll announce our engagement,” she said. “I only have eyes for you. I love you.”
“What did you do with the ring?” James asked, as she looked at it on her slim finger.
“Oh, I’m hiding it from father for now,” she said. “I’ll show him after Christmas.”
Margaret hung up the phone, took the box with her engagement ring from her purse, and hid it underneath the mattress in her bedroom.
“Father will never find the ring now,” she said, as she made sure it was tucked between the mattress and the box spring.
In the days leading up to the Ball, she sipped wine at the parties and tried to be interested in the superficial conversation. She really wanted to be at “Miracle on 34th Street” at the cinema with James. She loved to spend the afternoon dancing with him to her Philco radio.
“Most of this is gossip and very uninteresting,” Margaret said to herself, as she eavesdropped on the couple next to her.
“Oh, they are definitely dating,” the one socialite woman said to another.
On the night of the Ball, she slipped into her Christian Dior red and black lace Christmas gown and pulled her hair up in curls. The dress had a cinched-waist and a full skirt. She clipped on pearl earrings and grabbed her satin clutch.
Then, she slipped on her bell-shaped black velvet opera coat. Its satin lining hung at her ankles. Her long satin gloves perfected the outfit.
“I’m ready for the Ball, Father,” Margaret said. She kissed her father on the cheek. “You will see. I’m about to prove you wrong. James is my true love. There is no one else for me. You can introduce me to all the men in the world.”
“What a doll face! You’ll knock their socks off in that dress,” her father said, as he adjusted his black tuxedo with pocket squares. “I’m ready, too! I’m just not so sure that there might be a better match for you than James.”
As Margaret arrived in a limousine with her father at the Waldorf Astoria, the men turned their heads at her astonishing beauty.
She put on her half-mask, and her identity was disguised by music note paper and gold leaf. Her red lips stunned with her Max Factor lipstick. She smelled like roses with Elizabeth Arden perfume.
“Maybe I should have worn an ugly dress,” she mumbled, as she noticed the bar on the corner with a jazz piano. “Everyone will want to dance with me now . . .”
When she entered the Grand Ballroom, she was escorted by two masked gentlemen: one military cadet and one civilian.
After all the guests arrived, a moderator called the debutantes by name with their escorts to the front of the Ballroom: “Please welcome Margaret Bayard, daughter of former United States Senator George Bayard and his deceased wife, Jill.”
Walking forward, Margaret gained her composure and breathed deep. The cadet held onto her arm tighter than the civilian.
After the introduction, the cadet in his white formal uniform said in a deep voice: “You’re so beautiful. May I have this dance?”
“Oh, well, yes,” Margaret sighed. “How kind of you to ask!”
Now, the white and gold mask of the cadet covered his entire face, only allowing Margaret to see his eyes and lips. There was something familiar about how he held her.
During the dance, Margaret felt awkward and thought about James the entire time. She imagined he would be so uncomfortable if she saw the cadet dancing with her.
They waltzed, and he dipped her at all the proper moments. Near the end of the Ball, the cadet bowed to Margaret before leaving and never revealed his true identity.
“Wait!” Margaret called, as she handed him her mask and hoped he would do the same. Part of her wondered if her father might be right, and she should at least properly introduce herself to the cadet, just in case things did not work out with James.
However, she could not imagine marrying someone other than her childhood friend.
“Where’s he going?” Margaret’s father said, as he stepped from the shadows. “You must have been having a wonderful time. The cadet will find you because he knows who you are now. You took off your mask. Don’t worry about James.”
“Father, leave me alone,” Margaret said, as she started to cry. She ran out of the Waldorf Astoria for a taxi and rushed home.
“Who was that man?” Margaret whispered to herself. “What will I say to James?”
As Margaret rushed into the elevator of her father’s home, she ascended to the penthouse and stumbled for her keys.
In the hallway, she found James, as he sat on the bench at the front door. He wore a cadet white formal uniform and held her music note mask from the Ball. He also held the white and gold mask of the mysterious cadet that she had danced with during the evening.
“Where did you get those masks?” Margaret said. “Why are you all dressed up? Wait a minute . . . Oh my gosh!”
“It was me all along, Margaret!” James said, as he threw his arms around her. “I couldn’t let you dance with anyone else.”
“I told my father that I was going to prove him wrong,” Margaret said, as she rested her head on James’ shoulder. “My father sent me to the Christmas Masquerade Ball, and he sent me right back to you,” she said, and then she kissed him.
As Margaret and James kissed in the hallway, her father exited the elevator.
“So, it was you after all,” her father said, as he threw up his hands. “What was I thinking? I tried to break the two of you up, and you just ended up together anyhow.”
“I forgive you father,” Margaret said. “I tried to do what you wanted, but it was not my destiny.”
“Can I please have your blessing for your daughter’s hand in marriage?” James asked.
“If you insist,” her father said. “I would have a lot to teach you as your father-in-law.”
“James might also have a lot to teach you, Daddy,” Margaret said, as she ran to hug him.
By Christmas next year, Margaret and James were married, and the first dance at their wedding was to Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong’s “Cheek to Cheek.” For the rest of their lives, they danced to Ella’s “At Last” in every spare moment.
Copyright 2016, 2025 Jennifer Waters
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