What Shall We Do Now?: Five Hundred Games and Pastimes

In Short

This book functions as an encyclopedic manual for children and their guardians, cataloging over five hundred ways to fill empty time. It spans the spectrum of play, from vigorous outdoor physical challenges and parlor games to intricate indoor crafts like model-making, gardening, and pet care. By providing clear instructions for both solitary and group activities, it removes the burden of invention from the adult and empowers the child. Its enduring appeal lies in its exhaustive variety and its respect for a child's capacity to engage in meaningful, structured work and play.

The Story

The narrative arc of the book begins with a recognition of the universal childhood predicament: the sudden, hollow arrival of free time and the inevitable question, "What shall we do now?" The opening chapters address the immediate need for activity, moving from simple parlor games designed for groups—such as "Hunt the Ring" and "Lady Queen Anne"—to more taxing intellectual pursuits like "Composite Stories" and rhyming games. The reader is guided through the social dynamics of play, learning how to negotiate sides, manage disputes, and maintain the rules of competition.

As the book progresses, the focus shifts from the living room to the wider world. The reader is encouraged to venture outdoors, where the play becomes more physical and exploratory. Here, the "story" becomes one of engagement with the environment. Whether it is a "Potato Race" in the hallway, "Hare and Hounds" across a field, or a quiet search for eggs on a farm, the activities demand a higher level of autonomy. The book teaches the child to observe the flight of a bird or the habits of a dog, shifting the focus from mere entertainment to the cultivation of patience and observation.

The middle section delves into the domestic arts, detailing the construction of miniature worlds. Through "Dolls' Dinner Parties" and the creation of "Dolls' Flats," the child learns to build and inhabit spaces, utilizing simple materials like corks, matchboxes, and scraps of cloth. This section emphasizes the satisfaction of craft—the ability to turn discarded items into objects of play. The progression continues into the garden, where the child learns the rhythms of nature, from sowing seeds to the patient task of saving them for the following year.

The final movement of the book addresses the responsibilities of the young person. It turns to the care of living things, such as feeding wild robins and understanding the temperaments of different terrier breeds. It concludes with a gentle, moralizing reminder about the care of books themselves, treating the object in the reader's hands as a companion that deserves respect. The journey ends not with a final event, but with an open-ended invitation: the inclusion of an appendix of blank leaves. This final act transfers the authorship of the "story" from the creator to the reader, who is encouraged to record their own discoveries and build upon the foundation provided.

How It Unfolds

The problem of idleness The book opens by acknowledging the friction between a child’s need for occupation and an adult’s limited time to provide it. It establishes the reader as someone seeking independence, offering a structured index to help them navigate their own boredom.

Social play and parlor games The middle chapters focus on the complexities of playing with others, utilizing games that require communication, memory, and competitive spirit. These sections demonstrate how to manage group dynamics, from the physical exertion of "Parlor Football" to the linguistic gymnastics of "Composite Stories."

The shift to solitary craft The narrative moves into the quiet, focused realm of the maker, where the child is encouraged to build dolls' furniture from corks or construct intricate paper models. This phase emphasizes the value of patience and the transformation of humble, everyday household objects into treasures.

Engagement with the natural world The final chapters expand the field of play to the garden and the outdoors, detailing the care of poultry, the feeding of wild birds, and the selection of plants. It teaches the child to observe and nurture, framing these tasks as essential, rewarding pastimes that connect the player to the cycles of the seasons.

The People

The central figures of the book are the "resourceful" child and the "busy" adult. The child is portrayed as a capable, curious agent who occasionally needs a nudge to unlock their own latent creativity. They are defined by their desire for agency; they want to know how to build a boat, how to train a dog, and how to win a race. The obstacle they face is not a lack of interest, but a lack of direction. By the end of the book, this child is transformed from a passive seeker of entertainment into an active participant in their own development.

The adult, meanwhile, acts as a facilitator, providing the tools and the wisdom but ultimately stepping back to let the child take the lead. The farmer's wife and the gardener are also present as quiet mentors, figures who allow the child into their sphere of work—the dairy or the garden—provided the child shows enough "care and thoroughness" to be trusted. These figures stand as the gatekeepers of real-world knowledge, and the child's interactions with them serve as a bridge between the play-world of the nursery and the productive world of adults.

In Its Own Voice

"It is so easy for children to ask it, so hard for grown-up persons with many other matters to think about to reply to it satisfactorily."

The author explains the fundamental motivation for writing the collection in the preface, identifying the gap between a child's boredom and an adult's preoccupation.

"If the ball really is with this player, the seeker and she change places, but otherwise the seeker hides her eyes again and the ball changes hands (or not)."

In this example of gameplay, the text provides precise, rhythmic instructions for a classic social game, illustrating the book's commitment to clear, actionable rules.

"Please don't handle me with dirty hands; I should feel ashamed to be seen when the next little boy borrowed me."

A personified library book speaks directly to the reader in the final pages, teaching the child the importance of stewardship and the value of sharing resources.

What It's Really About

At its core, the book is an argument for the dignity of play. It posits that play is not merely a way to kill time, but a essential form of work that builds character, dexterity, and intelligence. The deeper questions it addresses revolve around the transition from dependence to autonomy. By providing a manual for everything from "Walking Spanish" to the cultivation of biennials, the book asserts that children should not be treated as mere recipients of amusement. Instead, it suggests that a well-rounded childhood is one where the child is taught to manage their own time, respect the objects they handle, and care for the living creatures around them.

Why Read It Today

Readers today will find this book to be a fascinating time capsule of a quieter, more analog era. Those who enjoy DIY culture, historical domesticity, or simply finding new, screen-free ways to engage children will find it immensely practical. The prose is warm and encouraging, moving with a brisk efficiency that makes it easy to dip into for a quick idea.

However, the modern reader should be aware of the book’s age. The attitudes reflect a 1907 worldview, occasionally referencing period-specific social structures, such as domestic service, that feel distant today. Some of the activities—like making a "magic lantern" or using specific types of antique paints—require a bit of creative translation to modern materials. Furthermore, the length and density of the list-style entries can be overwhelming if read cover-to-cover. Yet, the persistent charm of the book lies in its fundamental faith that a child, given a few simple tools and a bit of guidance, can create a world of interest out of almost nothing. It is a reminder that boredom is a condition of the mind, and that the cure is almost always to be found in the creative use of one's own hands and imagination.