JILL. I'm afraid you'll find the afternoon rather tiring without your book. What will you do?
OLIVER. I suppose I shall have to think.
JILL. What shall you think about?
OLIVER. I shall think I'm on my desert island.
JILL. Which desert island?
OLIVER. The one I always pretend I'm on when I'm thinking.
JILL. Isn't there any one else on it ever?
OLIVER. Oo, lots of pirates and Dyaks and cannibals and—other people.
JILL. What sort of other people?
OLIVER. I shan't tell you. This is a special think I thought last night. As soon as I thought of it, I decided to keep it for (impressively) a moment of great emergency.
JILL (silenced). Oh! . . . Oliver?
OLIVER Yes?
JILL. Let me be on your desert island this time. Because I did try to help you.
OLIVER. Well—well—— (Generously) Well, you can if you like.
JILL. Oh, thank you, Oliver. Won't you tell me what it's about, and then we can both think it together this afternoon.
OLIVER. I expect you'll think all sorts of silly things that never happen on a desert island.
JILL. I'll try not to, Oliver, if you tell me.
OLIVER. All right.
JILL (coming close to him). Go on.
OLIVER. Well, you see, I've been wrecked, you see, and the ship has foundered with all hands, you see, and I've been cast ashore on a desert island, you see.
JILL. Haven't I been cast ashore too?
OLIVER. Well, you will be this afternoon, of course. Well, you see, we land on the island, you see, and it's a perfectly ripping island, you see, and—and we land on it, you see, and . . .
But we are getting on too fast. When the good ship crashed upon the rock and split in twain, it seemed like that all aboard must perish. Fortunately OLIVER was made of stern mettle. Hastily constructing a raft and placing the now unconscious JILL upon it, he launched it into the seething maelstrom of waters and pushed off. Tossed like a cockle-shell upon the mountainous waves, the tiny craft with its precious freight was in imminent danger of foundering. But OLIVER was made of stern mettle. With dauntless courage he rigged a jury-mast, and placed a telescope to his eye. "Pull for the lagoon, JILL," cried the dauntless OLIVER, and in another moment. . . .
As the raft glides into the still waters beyond the reef, we can see it more clearly. Can it be JILL'S bed, with OLIVER in his pyjamas perched on the rail, and holding up his bath-towel? Does he shorten sail for a moment to thump his chest and say, "But OLIVER was made of stern mettle"? Or is it——
But the sun is sinking behind the swamp where the rattlesnakes bask. For a moment longer the sail gleams like copper in its rays, and then—-fizz-z—we have lost it. See! Is that speck on the inky black waters the dauntless Oliver? It is. Let us follow to the island and see what adventures befall him.
SCENE II.—It is the island which we have dreamed about all our lives. But at present we cannot see it properly, for it is dark. In one of those tropical darknesses which can be felt rather than seen OLIVER hands JILL out of the boat.
OLIVER. Tread carefully, Jill, there are lots of deadly rattlesnakes about.
JILL (stepping hastily back into the boat). Oli-ver!
OLIVER. You hear the noise of their rattles sometimes when the sun is sinking behind the swamp. (The deadly rattle of the rattlesnake is heard) There!
JILL. Oh, Oliver, are they very deadly? Because if they are, I don't think I shall like your island.
OLIVER. Those aren't. I always have their teeth taken out when ladies are coming. Besides, it's daylight now.
(With a rapidity common in the tropics—although it may just be OLIVER'S gallantry—the sun climbs out of the sea, and floods the island, JILL, no longer frightened, steps out of the boat, and they walk up to the clearing in the middle.)
JILL (looking about her). Oh, what a lovely island! I think it's lovely, Oliver.
OLIVER (modestly). It's pretty decent, isn't it? Won't you lie down? I generally lie down here and watch the turtles coming out of the sea to deposit their eggs on the sand.
JILL (lying down). How many do they de-deposit usually, Oliver?
OLIVER. Oh, three—or a hundred. Just depends how hungry I am. Have a bull's-eye, won't you?
JILL (excitedly). Oh, did you bring some?
OLIVER (annoyed). Bring some? (Brightening up) Oh, you mean from the wreck?
JILL (hastily). Yes, from the wreck. I mean besides the axe and the bag of nails and the gunpowder.
OLIVER. Couldn't. The ship sank with all hands before I could get them. But it doesn't matter, because (going up to one of the trees) I recognise this as the bull's-eye tree. (He picks a couple of bull's-eyes and gives one to her.)
JILL. Oh, Oliver, how lovely! Thank you. (She puts it in her mouth.)
OLIVER (sucking hard). There was nothing but breadfruit trees here the first time I was marooned on it. Rotten things to have on a decent island. So I planted a bull's-eye tree, and a barley-sugar-cane grove, and one or two other things, and made a jolly ripping place of it.
JILL (pointing). What's that tree over there?
OLIVER. That one? Rice-pudding tree.
JILL (getting up indignantly). Oliver! Take me back to the boat at once.
OLIVER. I say, shut up, Jill. You didn't think I meant it for you, did you?
JILL. But there's only you and me on the island.
OLIVER. What about the domestic animals? I suppose they've got to eat.
JILL. Oh, how lovely! Have we got a goat and a parrot, and a—a—
OLIVER. Much better than that. Look in that cage there.
JILL. Oh, is that a cage? I never noticed it. What do I do?
OLIVER (going to it). Here, I'll show you (He draws the blind, and the DOCTOR is exposed sitting on a stump of wood and blinking at the sudden light) What do you think of that?
JILL. Oliver!
OLIVER (proudly). I thought of that in bed one night. Spiffing idea, isn't it? I've got some other ones in the plantation over there. Awfully good specimens. I feed 'em on rice-pudding.
JILL. Can this one talk?
OLIVER. I'm teaching it. (Stirring it up with a stick) Come up there.
DOCTOR (mumbling). Ninety-nine, ninety-nine . . .
OLIVER. That's all it can say at present. I'm going to give it a swim in the lagoon to-morrow. I want to see if there are any sharks. If there aren't, then we can bathe there afterwards.
(The DOCTOR shudders.)
JILL. Have you given it a name yet? I think I should like to call it Fluffkins.
OLIVER. Righto! Good night, Fluffkins. Time little doctors were in bed. (He pulls down the blind.)
JILL (lying down again). Well, I think it's a lovely island.
OLIVER (lying beside her). If there's anything you want, you know, you've only got to say so. Pirates or anything like that. There's a ginger-beer well if you're thirsty.
JILL (closing her eyes). I'm quite happy, Oliver, thank you.
OLIVER (after a pause, a little awkwardly). Jill, you didn't ever want to marry a pirate, did you?
JILL (still on her back with her eyes shut). I hadn't thought about it much, Oliver dear.
OLIVER. Because I can get you an awfully decent pirate, if you like, and if I was his brother-in-law it would be ripping. I've often been marooned with him, of course, but never as his brother-in-law.
JILL. Why don't you marry his daughter and be his son-in-law?
OLIVER. He hasn't got a daughter.
JILL. Well, you could think him one.
OLIVER. I don't want to. If ever I'm such a silly ass as to marry, which I'm jolly well not going to be, I shall marry a—a dusky maiden. Jill, be sporty. All girls have to get married some time. It's different with men.
JILL. Very well, Oliver. I don't want to spoil your afternoon.
OLIVER. Good biz. (He stands up, shuts his eyes and waves his hands about.)
Enter the PIRATE CHIEF.
PIRATE CHIEF (with a flourish). Gentles, your servant. Commodore Crookshank, at your service. Better known on the Spanish Main as One-eared Eric.
OLIVER. Glad to meet you, Commodore. I'm—er— Two-toed Thomas, the Terror of the Dyaks. But you may call me Oliver, if you like. This is my sister Jill—the Pride of the Pampas.
PIRATE CHIEF (with another bow). Charmed!
JILL (politely). Don't mention it, Commodore.
OLIVER. My sister wants to marry you. Er—carry on. (He moves a little away from them and lies down.)
JILL (sitting down and indicating a place beside her). Won't you sit down, Commodore?
PIRATE CHIEF. Thank you, madam. The other side if I may. I shall hear better if you condescend to accept me. (He sits down on the other side of her.)
JILL. Oh, I'm so sorry! I was forgetting about your ear.
PIRATE CHIEF. Don't mention it. A little discussion in the La Plata river with a Spanish gentleman. At the end of it I was an ear short and he was a head short. It was considered in the family that I had won.
(There is an awkward pause.)
JILL (shyly). Well, Commodore?
PIRATE CHIEF. Won't you call me Eric?
JILL. I am waiting, Eric.
PIRATE CHIEF. Madam, I am not a marrying man, not to any extent, but if you would care to be Mrs. Crookshank, I'd undertake on my part to have the deck swabbed every morning, and to put a polish on the four-pounder that you could see your pretty face in.
JILL. Eric, how sweet of you. But I think you must speak to my brother in the library first. Oli-ver!
OLIVER (coming up). Hallo! Settled it?
JILL. It's all settled, Oliver, between Eric and myself, but you will want to ask him about his prospects, won't you?
OLIVER. Yes, yes, of course.
PIRATE. I shall be very glad to tell you anything I can, sir. I think I may say that I am doing fairly well in my profession.
OLIVER. What's your ship? A sloop or a frigate?
PIRATE. A brigantine.
JILL (excited). Oh, that's what Oliver puts on his hair when he goes to a party.
OLIVER (annoyed). Shut up, Jill! A brigantine? Ah yes, a rakish craft, eh, Commodore?
PIRATE (earnestly). Extremely rakish.
OLIVER. And how many pieces of eight have you?
PIRATE. Nine thousand.
OLIVER. Ah! (To JILL) What's nine times eight?
JILL (to herself). Nine times eight.
OLIVER (to himself). Nine times eight.
PIRATE (to himself). Nine times eight.
JILL. Seventy-two.
PIRATE. I made it seventy-one, but I expect you're right.
OLIVER. Then you've seventy-two thousand pieces altogether?
PIRATE. Yes, sir, about that.
OLIVER. Any doubloons?
PIRATE. Hundreds of 'em.
OLIVER. Ingots of gold?
PIRATE. Lashings of 'em.
JILL. And he's going to polish up the four-pounder until I can see my face in it.
OLIVER. I was just going to ask you about your guns. You've got 'em fore and aft of course?
PIRATE. Yes, sir. A four-pounder fore and a half-pounder haft.
OLIVER (a little embarrassed). And do you ever have brothers-in-law in your ship?
PIRATE. Well, I never have had yet, but I have always been looking about for one.
JILL. Oh, Oliver, isn't Eric a nice man?
OLIVER (casually). I suppose the captain's brother-in-law is generally the first man to board the Spaniard with his cutlass between his teeth?
PIRATE. You might almost say always. Many a ship on the Spanish Main I've had to leave unboarded through want of a brother-in-law. They're touchy about it somehow. Unless the captain's brother-in-law comes first they get complaining.
OLIVER (bashfully). And there's just one other thing. If the brigantine happened to put in at an island for water, and the captain's brother-in-law happened—just happened—to be a silly ass and go and marry a dusky maiden, whom he met on the beach——
PIRATE. Bless you, it's always happening to a captain's brother-in-law.
OLIVER (in a magnificent manner). Then, Captain Crookshank, you may take my sister!
JILL. Thank you, Oliver.
(It is not every day that one-eared ERIC, that famous chieftain, marries into the family of the TERROR OF THE DYAKS. Naturally the occasion is celebrated by the whole pirate crew with a rousing chorus, followed by a dance in which the dusky maidens of the Island join. At the end of it, JILL finds herself alone with TUA-HEETA, the Dusky Princess.)
JILL (fashionably). I'm so pleased to meet my brother's future wife. It's so nice of you to come to see me. You will have some tea, won't you? (She puts out her hand and presses an imaginary bell) I wanted to see you, because I can tell you so many little things about my brother, which I think you ought to know. You see, Eric—my husband—
TUA-HEETA. Ereec?
JILL. Yes. I wish you could see him. He's so nice-looking. But I'm afraid he won't be home to tea. That's the worst of marrying a sailor. They are away so much. Well, I was telling you about Oliver. I think it would be better if you knew at once that—he doesn't like rice-pudding.
TUA-HEETA. Rice-poodeeng?
JILL. Yes, he hates it. It is very important that you should remember that. Then there's another thing—(An untidy looking servant comes in. Can it be—can it possibly be AUNT JANE? Horrors!) He dislikes—— Oh, there you are, Jane. You've been a very long time answering the bell.
AUNT JANE. I'm so sorry ma'am, I was just dressing.
JILL. Excuses, Jane, always excuses. Leave me. Take a week's notice. (To TUA-HEETA) YOU must excuse my maid. She's very stupid. Tea at once, Jane. (AUNT JANE sniffs and goes off) What was I saying? Oh yes, about Oliver. He doesn't care for cod-liver oil in the way that some men do. You would be wise not to force it on him just at first. . . . Have you any idea where you are going to live?
TUA-HEETA. Live? (These dusky maidens are no conversationalists.)
JILL. I expect Oliver will wish to reside at Hammersmith, so convenient for the City. You'll like Hammersmith. You'll go to St. Paul's Church, I expect. The Vicar will be sure to call. (Enter AUNT JANE with small tea-table.) Ah, here's tea. (To JANE) You're very slow, Jane.
AUNT JANE. I'm sorry, ma'am.
JILL. It's no good being sorry. Take another week's notice. (To TUA-HEETA) You must forgive my talking to my maid. She wants such a lot of looking after. (JANE puts down the table) That will do, Jane, (JANE bumps against the table) Dear, dear, how clumsy you are. What wages am I giving you now?
AUNT JANE. A shilling a month, ma'am.
JILL. Well, we'd better make it ninepence. (JANE goes out in tears.) Servants are a great nuisance, aren't they? Jane is a peculiarly stupid person. She used to be aunt to my brother, and I have only taken her on out of charity. (She pours out from an imaginary tea-pot) Milk? Sugar? (She puts them in and hands the imaginary cup to TUA-HEETA.)
TUA-HEETA. Thank you. (Drinks.)
JILL (pouring herself a cup). I hope you like China. (She drinks, and then rings an imaginary bell) Well, as I was saying——(Enter AUNT JANE.) You can clear away, Jane.
AUNT JANE. Yes, ma'am.
(She clears away the tea and TUA-HEETA and— very quickly—herself, as OLIVER comes back. OLIVER has been discussing boarding-tactics with his brother-in-law. CAPTAIN CROOKSHANK belongs to the now old-fashioned Marlinspike School; OLIVER is for well-primed pistols.)
JILL. Oh, Oliver, I love your island. I've been thinking things all by myself. You're married to Tua-heeta. You don't mind, do you?
OLIVER. Not at all, Jill. Make yourself at home. I've just been trying the doctor in the lagoon. There were sharks there, after all, so we'll have to find another place for bathing. Oh, and I shot an elephant. What would you like to do now?
JILL. Just let's lie here and see what happens. (What happens is that a cassowary comes along.) Oh, what a lovely bird! Is it an ostrich?
(The cassowary sniffs the air, puts its beak to the ground and goes off again.)
OLIVER. Silly! It's a cassowary, of course.
JILL. What's a cassowary?
OLIVER. Jill! Don't you remember the rhyme?
JILL. Is that all they're for?
OLIVER. Well, what else would you want them for?
(A MISSIONARY, pith-helmet, gloves, hymn-book, umbrella, all complete—creeps cautiously up. He bears a strong likeness to the curate, the REVEREND SMILAX.)
MISSIONARY. I am sorry to intrude upon your privacy, dear friends, but have you observed a cassowary on this island, apparently looking for something?
OLIVER. Yes, we saw one just now.
MISSIONARY (shuddering). Dear, dear, dear. You didn't happen to ask him what was the object of his researches?
JILL. He went so quickly.
MISSIONARY (coming out of the undergrowth to them). I wonder if you have ever heard of a little rhyme which apparently attributes to the bird in question, when residing in the level pastures of Timbuctoo, an unholy lust for the body and appurtenances thereto of an unnamed clerical gentleman?
OLIVER and JILL (shouting together). Yes! Rather!
MISSIONARY. Dear, dear! Fortunately—I say fortunately—this is not Timbuctoo! (OLIVER slips away and comes back with a notice-board "Timbuctoo," which he places at the edge of the trees, unseen by the MISSIONARY, who goes on talking to JILL) I take it that a cassowary residing in other latitudes is of a more temperate habit. His appetite, I venture to suggest, dear lady, would be under better restraint. That being so, I may perhaps safely—— (He begins to move off, and comes suddenly up to the notice-board) Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear! This is terrible! You said, I think, that the—ah—bird in question was moving in this direction?
OLIVER. That's right.
MISSIONARY. Then I shall move, hastily yet with all due precaution, in that direction. (He walks off on tiptoe, looking over his shoulder in case the cassowary should reappear. Consequently, he does not observe the enormous CANNIBAL who has appeared from the trees on the right, until he bumps into him) I beg your—— (He looks up) Dear, dear, dear, dear, dear!
CANNIBAL. Boria, boria, boo!
MISSIONARY. Yes, my dear sir, it is as you say, a beautiful morning.
CANNIBAL. Boria, boria, boo!
MISSIONARY. But I was just going a little walk—in this direction—if you will permit me.
CANNIBAL (threateningly). Boria, boria, boo!
MISSIONARY. I have noticed it, my dear sir, I have often made that very observation to my parishioners.
CANNIBAL (very threateningly). Boria, boria, boo!
MISSIONARY. Oh, what's he saying?
OLIVER. He says it's his birthday to-morrow.
CANNIBAL. Wurra, wurra wug!
OLIVER. And will you come to the party?
MISSIONARY (to CANNIBAL). My dear sir, it is most kind of you to invite me, but a prior engagement in a different part of the country—a totally unexpected call upon me in another locality—will unfortunately——
(While he is talking, the cassowary comes back, sidles up to him, and taps with his beak on the MISSIONARY'S pith-helmet.)
MISSIONARY (absently, without looking round). Come in! . . . As I was saying, my dear sir—— (The bird taps again. The MISSIONARY turns round annoyed) Can't you see I'm engaged——Oh dear, dear, dear, dear, dear!
(He clasps the CANNIBAL in his anguish, recoils from the CANNIBAL and clasps the cassowary. The three of them go off together, OLIVER and JILL following eagerly behind to see who gets most.)
(The PIRATES come back, each carrying a small wooden ammunition-box, and sit round in a semicircle, the PIRATE CHIEF in the middle.)
PIRATE. Steward! Steward!
STEWARD (hurrying in). Yes, sir, coming, sir.
CHIEF. Now then, tumble up, my lad. I would carouse. Circulate the dry ginger.
STEWARD (hurrying out). Yes, sir, going, sir.
CHIEF. Look lively, my lad, look lively.
STEWARD (hurrying in). Yes, sir, coming, sir. (He hands round mugs to them all.)
CHIEF (rising). Gentlemen! (They all stand up) The crew of the Cocktail will carouse—— (They all take one step to the right, one back, and one left—which brings them behind their boxes—and then place their right feet on the boxes together) One! (They raise their mugs) Two! (They drink) Three! (They bang down their mugs) Four! (They wipe their mouths with the backs of their hands) So! . . . Steward!
STEWARD. Yes, sir, here, sir.
CHIEF. The carouse is over.
STEWARD. Yes, sir. (He collects the mugs and goes out.) (The PIRATES sit down again.)
CHIEF (addressing the men). Having passed an hour thus in feasting and song——
(Hark! is it the voice of our dear MISS PINNIGER? It is.)
GOVERNESS (off). Oliver! Oliver! Jill! You may get up now and come down to tea.
CHIEF. Having, as I say, slept off our carouse——
GOVERNESS (off). Oliver! Jill! (She comes in) Oh, I beg your pardon, I—er——
(All the PIRATES rise and draw their weapons)
CHIEF. Pray do not mention it. (Polishing his pistol lovingly) You were asking——
GOVERNESS. I—I was l-looking for a small boy—Oliver—
CHIEF. Oliver? (To 1ST PIRATE) Have we any Olivers on board?
1ST PIRATE. NO, Captain. Only Bath Olivers.
CHIEF (to GOVERNESS). You cannot be referring to my brother-in-law, hight Two-Toed Thomas, the Terror of the Dyaks?
GOVERNESS. Oh no, no—Just a small boy and his sister—Jill.
CHIEF (to 2ND PIRATE). Have we any Jills on board?
2ND PIRATE. No, Captain. Only gills of rum.
CHIEF (to GOVERNESS). You cannot be referring to Mrs. Crookshank, styled the Pride of the Pampas?
GOVERNESS. Oh no, no, I am so sorry. Perhaps I—er—
CHIEF. Wait, woman. (To 6TH PIRATE) Ernest, offer your seat to the lady.
(The 6TH PIRATE stands up.)
GOVERNESS (nervously). Oh please don't trouble, I'm getting out at the next station—I mean I—
6TH PIRATE (thunderously). Sit down!
(She sits down tremblingly and he stands by her with his pistol.)
CHIEF. Thank you. (To 1ST PIRATE) Cecil, have you your pencil and notebook with you?
1ST PIRATE (producing them). Ay, ay, Captain.
CHIEF. Then we will cross-examine the prisoner. (To GOVERNESS) Name?
GOVERNESS. Pinniger.
1ST PIRATE (writing). Pincher.
CHIEF. Christian names, if any?
GOVERNESS. Letitia.
1ST PIRATE (writing). Letisher—how would you spell it, Captain?
CHIEF. Spell it like a sneeze. Age?
GOVERNESS. Twenty-three.
CHIEF (to 1ST PIRATE). Habits—untruthful. Appearance—against her. Got that?
1ST PIRATE. Yes, sir.
CHIEF (to GOVERNESS). And what are you for?
GOVERNESS. I teach. Oliver and Jill, you know.
CHIEF. And what do you teach them?
GOVERNESS. Oh, everything. Arithmetic, French, Geography, History, Dancing——
CHIEF (holding up his hand). A moment! I would take counsel with Percy. (To 2ND PIRATE) Percy, what shall we ask her in Arithmetic? (The 2ND PIRATE whispers to him.) Excellent. (To her) If you really are a teacher as you say, answer me this question. The brigantine Cocktail is in longitude 40° 39' latitude 22° 50', sailing closehauled on the port tack at 8 knots in a 15-knot nor'-nor' westerly breeze—how soon before she sights the Azores?
GOVERNESS. I—I—I'm afraid I——You see—I——
CHIEF (to 1ST PIRATE). Arithmetic rotten.
1ST PIRATE (writing). Arithmetic rotten.
CHIEF (to 3RD PIRATE). Basil, ask her a question in French.
3RD PIRATE. What would the mate of a French frigate say if he wanted to say in French, "Avast there, ye lubbering swab" to a friend like?
GOVERNESS. Oh, but I hardly—I——
CHIEF (to 1ST PIRATE). French futile.
1ST PIRATE (writing). French futile.
CHIEF (to 4TH PIRATE). I don't suppose it's much use, Francis. But try her in Geography.
4TH PIRATE. Well now, lady. If you was wanting a nice creek to lay up cosy in, atween Dago Point and the Tortofitas, where would you run to?
GOVERNESS. It-run to? But that isn't—of course I——
CHIEF (to 1ST PIRATE). Geography ghastly.
1ST PIRATE (writing). Geography ghastly.
CHIEF (to 5TH PIRATE). Give her a last chance, Mervyn. See if she knows any history.
5TH PIRATE. I suppose you couldn't tell me what year it was when old John Cann took the Saucy Codfish over Black Tooth Reef and laid her alongside the Spaniard in the harbour there, and up comes the Don in his nightcap. "Shiver my timbers," he says in Spanish, "but there's only one man in the whole of the Spanish Main," he says, "and that's John Cann," he says, "who could——"
(The GOVERNESS looks dumbly at him.)
CHIEF. She couldn't. History hopeless.
1ST PIRATE. History hopeless.
CHIEF (to GOVERNESS). What else do you teach?
GOVERNESS. Music, dancing—er—but I don't think——
CHIEF. Steward!
STEWARD (coming in). Yes, sir, coming, sir.
CHIEF. Concertina.
STEWARD (going out). Yes, sir, going, sir.
CHIEF (to GOVERNESS). Can you dance a hornpipe?
GOVERNESS. No, I——
CHIEF. Dancing dubious.
1ST PIRATE (writing). Dancing dubious.
STEWARD (coming in). Concertina, sir.
CHIEF. Give it to the woman. (He takes it to her.)
GOVERNESS. I'm afraid I——(She produces one ghastly noise and drops the concertina in alarm.)
1ST PIRATE (writing). What shall I say, sir? Music mouldy or music measly?
CHIEF (standing up). Gentlemen, I think you will agree with me that the woman Pinniger has proved that she is utterly incapable of teaching anybody anything. Twenty-five years, man and boy, I have sailed the Spanish Main, and with the possible exception of a dumb and half-witted negro whom I shipped as cook in '64, I have never met any one so profoundly lacking in intellect. I propose, therefore, that for the space of twenty-four hours the woman Pinniger should be incarcerated in the smuggler's cave, in the company of a black beetle of friendly temperament.
GOVERNESS. Mercy! Mercy!
1ST PIRATE. I should like to second that.
CHIEF. Those in favour—ay! (They all say "Ay.")
Contrary—No! (The GOVERNESS says "No.") The motion is carried.
(One of the Pirates opens the door of the cave. The GOVERNESS rushes to the CHIEF and throws herself at his feet. OLIVER and JILL appear in the nick of time.)
OLIVER. A maiden in distress! I will rescue her. (She looks up and OLIVER recognises her) Oh! Carry on, Commodore.
(The GOVERNESS is lowered into the cave and the door is shut.)
CHIEF (to his men). Go, find that black beetle, and having found it, introduce it circumspectly by the back door.
PIRATES. Ay, ay, sir. [They go out.
OLIVER. All the same, you know, I jolly well should like to rescue somebody.
JILL (excitedly). Oo, rescue me, Oliver.
CHIEF (solemnly). Two-toed Thomas, Terror of the Dyaks, and Pest of the North Pacific, truly thou art a well-plucked one. Wilt fight me for the wench? (He puts an arm round JILL.)
OLIVER. I will.
CHIEF. Swords?
OLIVER. Pistols.
CHIEF. At twenty paces?
OLIVER. Across a handkerchief.
CHIEF. Done! (Feeling in his pockets) Have you got a handkerchief? I think I must have left mine on the dressing-table.
OLIVER (bringing out his and putting it hastily back again). Mine's rather—Jill, haven't you got one?
JILL (feeling). I know I had one, but I——
CHIEF. This is an ill business. Five-and-thirty duels have I fought—and never before been delayed for lack of a handkerchief.
JILL. Ah, here it is. (She produces a very small one and lays it on the ground. They stand one each side of it, pistols ready.)
OLIVER. Jill, you must give the word. JILL. Are you ready?
(The sound of a gong is heard.)
CHIEF. Listen! (The gong is heard again) The Spanish Fleet is engaged!
JILL. I thought it was our tea gong.
CHIEF. Ah, perhaps you're right.
OLIVER. I say, we oughtn't to miss tea. (Holding out his hand to her) Come on, Jill.
CHIEF. But you'll come back? We shall always be waiting here for you whenever you want us.
JILL. Yes, we'll come back, won't we, Oliver?
OLIVER. Oo, rather.
(The whole population of the Island, Animals, Pirates, and Dusky Maidens, come on. They sing as they wave good-bye to the children who are making their way to the boat.)
JILL (from the boat). Good-bye, good-bye.
OLIVER. Good-bye, you chaps.
JILL (politely). And thank you all for a very pleasant afternoon.
[They are all singing as the boat pushes off. Night comes on with tropical suddenness. The singing dies slowly down.
ACT III.—FATHER CHRISTMAS AND THE HUBBARD FAMILY
SCENE I.—The drawing-room of the HUBBARDS before Fame and Prosperity came to them. It is simply furnished with a deal table and two cane chairs.
MR. and MRS. HUBBARD, in faultless evening dress, are at home, MR. HUBBARD reading a magazine, MRS. HUBBARD with her hands in her lap. She sighs.
MR. HUBBARD (impetuously throwing down his magazine). Dearest, you sighed?
MRS. HUBBARD (quickly). No, no, Henry. In a luxurious and well-appointed home such as this, why should I sigh?
MR. HUBBARD. True, dear. Not only is it artistically furnished, as you say, but it is also blessed with that most precious of all things—(he lifts up the magazine)—a library.
MRS. HUBBARD. Yes, yes, Henry, we have much to be thankful for.
MR. HUBBARD. We have indeed. But I am selfish. Would you care to read? (He tears out a page of the magazine and hands it to her.)
MRS. HUBBARD. Thank you, thank you, Henry.
(They both sit in silence for a little. She sighs again.)
MR. HUBBARD. Darling, you did sigh. Tell me what grieves you.
MRS. HUBBARD. Little Isabel. Her cough troubles me.
MR. HUBBARD (thoughtfully). Isabel?
MRS. HUBBARD. Yes, dear, our youngest. Don't you remember, she comes after Harold?
MR. HUBBARD (counting on his fingers). A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I—dear me, have we got nine already?
MRS. HUBBARD (imploringly). Darling, say you don't think it's too many.
MR. HUBBARD. Oh no, no, not at all, my love . . . After all, it isn't as if they were real children.
MRS. HUBBARD (indignantly). Henry! How can you say they are not real?
MR. HUBBARD. Well, I mean they're only the children we thought we'd like to have if Father Christmas gave us any.
MRS. HUBBARD. They are just as real to me as if they were here in the house. Ada, Bertram, Caroline, the high-spirited Dennis, pretty Elsie with the golden ringlets, dear little fair-haired Frank—
MR. HUBBARD (firmly). Darling one, Frank has curly brown hair. It was an understood thing that you should choose the girls, and I should choose the boys. When we decided to take—A, B, C, D, E, F—a sixth child, it was my turn for a boy, and I selected Frank. He has curly brown hair and a fondness for animals.
MRS. HUBBARD. I daresay you're right, dear. Of course it is a little confusing when you never see your children.
MR. HUBBARD. Well, well, perhaps some day Father Christmas will give us some.
MRS. HUBBARD. Why does he neglect us so, Henry? We hang up our stockings every year, but he never seems to notice them. Even a diamond necklace or a few oranges or a five-shilling postal order would be something.
MR. HUBBARD. It is very strange. Possibly the fact that the chimney has not been swept for some years may have something to do with it. Or he may have forgotten our change of address. I cannot help feeling that if he knew how we had been left to starve in this way he would be very much annoyed.
MRS. HUBBARD. And clothes. I have literally nothing but what I am standing up in—I mean sitting down in.
MR. HUBBARD. Nor I, my love. But at least it will be written of us in the papers that the Hubbards perished in faultless evening dress. We are a proud race, and if Father Christmas deliberately cuts us off in this way, let us go down proudly. . . . Shall we go on reading or would you like to walk up and down the room? Fortunately these simple pleasures are left to us.
MRS. HUBBARD. I've finished this page.
MR. HUBBARD (tearing out one). Have another, my love. (They read for a little while, until interrupted by a knock at the door.)
MRS. HUBBARD. Some one at the door! Who could it be?
MR. HUBBARD (getting up). Just make the room look a little more homey, dear, in case it's any one important.
(He goes out, leaving her to alter the position of the chairs slightly.)
MRS. HUBBARD. Well?
MR. HUBBARD (coming in). A letter. (He opens it.)
MRS. HUBBARD. Quick!
MR. HUBBARD (whistling with surprise). Father Christmas! An invitation to Court! (Reading) "Father Christmas at Home, 25th December. Jollifications, 11.59 P.M." My love, he has found us at last! (They embrace each other.)
MRS. HUBBARD. Henry, how gratifying!
MR. HUBBARD. Yes. (Sadly, after a pause) But we can't go.
MRS. HUBBARD (sadly). No, I have no clothes.
MR. HUBBARD. Nor I.
MRS. HUBBARD. How can I possibly go without a diamond necklace? None of the Montmorency-Smythe women has ever been to Court without a diamond necklace.
MR. HUBBARD. The Hubbards are a proud race. No male Hubbard would dream of appearing at Court without a gentleman's gold Albert watch-chain. . . . Besides, there is another thing. There will be many footmen at Father Christmas's Court, who will doubtless require coppers pressed into their palms. My honour would be seriously affected, were I compelled to whisper to them that I had no coppers.
MRS. HUBBARD. It is very unfortunate. Father Christmas may have hundreds of presents waiting for us.
MR. HUBBARD. True. But how would it be to hang up our stockings again this evening—now that we know he knows we are here? I would suggest tied on to the door-knocker, to save him the trouble of coming down the chimney.
MRS. HUBBARD (excitedly). Henry, I wonder! But of course we will.
(They begin to take off—the one a sock, the other a stocking.)
MR. HUBBARD. I almost wish now that my last suit had been a knickerbocker one. However, we must do what we can with a sock.
MRS. HUBBARD (holding up her stocking and looking at it a little anxiously). I hope Father Christmas won't give me a bicycle. A stocking never sets so well after it has had a bicycle in it.
MR. HUBBARD (taking it from her). Now, dear, I will go down and put them in position. Let us hope that fortune will be kind to us.
MRS. HUBBARD. Let us hope so, darling. And quickly. For (picking up her page of the magazine) it is a trifle cold. [He goes out and she is left reading.
SCENE II.—Outside the house the snow lies deep. The stocking and sock are tied on to the door-knocker. There is a light in the window.
A party of carol-singers, with lanterns, come by and halt in the snow outside the house.
PETER ABLEWAYS. Friends, are we all assembled?
JONAS HUMPHREY. Ay, ay, Peter Ableways, assembled and met together in a congregation, for the purpose of lifting up our voices in joyous thanksgiving, videlicet the singing of a carol or other wintry melody.
JENNIFER LING. Keep your breath for your song, Master Humphrey. That last "Alleluia" of yours was a poor windy thing, lacking grievously in substance.
JONAS (sadly). It is so. I never made much of an Alleluia. It is not in my nature somehow. 'Tis a vain boastful thing an Alleluia.
MARTHA PORRITT. Are we to begin soon, Master Ableways? My feet are cold.
JONAS. What matter the feet, Martha Porritt, if the heart be warm with loving-kindness and seasonable emotions?
MARTHA. Well, nothing of me will be warm soon.
JENNIFER. Ay, let's begin, Peter Ableways, while we carry the tune in our heads. It is ill searching for the notes in the middle of the carol, as some singers do.
PETER. Well spoken, Mistress Jennifer. Now listen all, while I unfold the nature of the entertainment. Item—A carol or birth song to draw the attention of all folk to the company here assembled and the occasion celebrated. Item—Applause and the clapping of hands. Item—A carol or song of thanksgiving. Item—A collection.
JONAS. An entertainment well devised, Master Ableways, sobeit the words of the second song remain with me after I am delivered of the first.
MARTHA. Are we to begin soon, Master Ableways? My feet are cold.
PETER. Are we all ready, friends? I will say one—two—three—and at "three" I pray you all to give it off in a hearty manner from the chest. One—two—
JONAS. Hold, hold, Master Ableways! Does it begin—No, that's the other one. (JENNIFER whispers the first line to him) Ay, ay—I have it now—and bursting to get out of me. Proceed, Peter Ableways.
PETER. One—two—three—(They carol.)
PETER. Well sung, all.
HUMPHREY. The applause followed, good Master Peter, as ordained. Moreover, I have the tune of the second song ready within me. Likewise a la-la-la or two to replace such words as I have forgotten.
MARTHA. Don't forget the collection, Master Ableways.
PETER. Ay, the collection. (He takes off his hat and places it on the ground.)
HUMPHREY. Nay, not so fast, Master Peter. It would be ill if the good folk thought that our success this night were to be estimated by an empty hat. Place some of our money in it, Master Ableways. Where money is, money will come.
JENNIFER. Ay, it makes a pleasing clink.
PETER. True, Mistress Jennifer. Master Humphrey speaks true. (He pours some coppers from his pockets into his hat.)
MARTHA. Are we to go on, Master Ableways? My feet are cold.
PETER (shaking the hat). So, a warming noise.
HUMPHREY. To it again, gentles.
PETER. Are all ready? One—two—three! (They carol.)
PETER. Well sung, all.
HUMPHREY. Have you the hat, Master Peter?
PETER (picking it up). Ay, friend, all is ready.
(The door opens and MR. HUBBARD appears at the entrance.)
MR. HUBBARD. Good evening, friends.
PETER. Good evening, sir. (He holds out the hat.)
MR. HUBBARD (looking at it). What is this? (PETER shakes it) Aha! Money!
PETER. Remember the carol singers, sir.
MR. HUBBARD (helping himself). My dear friends, I will always remember you. This is most generous. I shall never forget your kindness. This is most unexpected. But not the less welcome, not the less—I think there's a ha'penny down there that I missed—thank you. As I was saying, unexpected but welcome. I thank you heartily. Good evening, friends.
[He goes in and shuts the door.
PETER (who has been too surprised to do anything but keep his mouth open). Well! . . . Well! . . . Well, friends, let us to the next house. We have got all that we can get here.
[They trail off silently.
MARTHA (as they go off). Master Ableways!
PETER. Ay, lass!
MARTHA. My feet aren't so cold now.
(But this is to be an exciting night. As soon as they are gone, a Burglar and a Burglaress steal into view)
BILL. Wotcher get, Liz? (She holds up a gold watch and chain. He nods and holds up a diamond necklace) 'Ow's that?
LIZ (starting suddenly). H'st!
BILL (in a whisper). What is it?
LIZ. Copper!
BILL (desperately). 'Ere, quick, get rid of these. 'Ide 'em in the snow, or——
LIZ. Bill! (He turns round) Look! (She points to the stocking and sock hanging up) We can come back for 'em as soon as 'e's gone.
(BILL looks at them, and back at her, and grins. He drops the necklace into one and the watch into the other. As the POLICEMAN approaches they strike up, "While shepherds watched their flock by night," with an air of great enthusiasm.)
POLICEMAN. Now then, move along there.
(They move along. The POLICEMAN flashes his light on the door to see that all is well. The stocking and sock are revealed. He beams sentimentally at them.)
SCENE III.—We are inside the house again. MRS. HUBBARD is still reading a page of the magazine. In dashes MR. HUBBARD with the sock and stocking.
MR. HUBBARD. My darling, what do you think? Father Christmas has sent you a little present. (He hands her the stocking.)
MRS. HUBBARD. Henry! Has he sent you one too?
MR. HUBBARD (holding up his sock). Observe!
MRS. HUBBARD. How sweet of him! I wonder what mine is. What is yours, darling?
MR. HUBBARD. I haven't looked yet, my love. Perhaps just a few nuts or something of that sort, with a card attached saying, "To wish you the old, old wish." We must try not to be disappointed, whatever it is, darling.
MRS. HUBBARD. Of course, Henry. After all, it is the kindly thought which really matters.
MR. HUBBARD. Certainly. All the same, I hope—Will you look in yours, dear, first, or shall I?
MRS. HUBBARD. I think I should like to, darling. (Feeling it) It feels so exciting. (She brings out a diamond necklace) Henry!
MR. HUBBARD. My love! (They embrace) Now you will be able to go to Court. You must say that your husband is unfortunately in bed with a bad cold. You can tell me all about it when you come home. I shall be able to amuse myself with—(He is feeling in his sock while talking, and now brings out the watch and chain.)
MRS. HUBBARD. Henry! My love!
MR. HUBBARD. A gentleman's gold hunter and Albert watch-chain. My darling!
(They put down their presents on the table and embrace each other again.)
MRS. HUBBARD. Let's put them on at once, Henry, and see how they suit us.
MR. HUBBARD. Allow me, my love. (He fastens her necklace.)
MRS. HUBBARD (happily). Now I feel really dressed again! Oh, I wish we had a looking-glass.
MR. HUBBARD (opening his gold watch). Try in here, my darling.
MRS. HUBBARD (surveying herself). How perfectly sweet! . . . Now let me put your watch-chain on for you, dear. (She arranges it for him—HENRY very proud.)
MR. HUBBARD. Does it suit me, darling?
MRS. HUBBARD. You look fascinating, Henry!
(They strut about the room with an air.)
MR. HUBBARD (taking out his watch and-looking at it ostentatiously). Well, well, we ought to be starting. My watch makes it 11.58. (He holds it to her ear) Hasn't it got a sweet tick?
MRS. HUBBARD. Sweet! But starting where, Henry? Do you mean we can really—But you haven't any money.
MR. HUBBARD. Money? (Taking out a handful) Heaps of it.
MRS. HUBBARD. Father Christmas?
MR. HUBBARD. Undoubtedly, my love. Brought round to the front door just now by some of his messengers. By the way, dear—(indicating the sock and stocking)—hadn't we better put these on before we start?
MRS. HUBBARD. Of course. How silly of me!
(They sit down and put them on.)
MR. HUBBARD. Really this is a very handsome watch-chain.
MRS. HUBBARD. It becomes you admirably, Henry.
MR. HUBBARD. Thank you, dear. There's just one little point. Father Christmas is sometimes rather shy about acknowledging the presents he gives. He hates being thanked. If, therefore, he makes any comment on your magnificent necklace or my handsome watch-chain, we must say that they have been in the family for some years.
MRS. HUBBARD. Of course, dear. (They get up.)
MR. HUBBARD. Well, now we're ready.
MRS. HUBBARD. Darling one, don't you think we might bring the children?
MR. HUBBARD. Of course, dear! How forgetful of me! . . . Children—'shun! (Listen! Their heels click as they come to attention) Number! (Their voices—alternate boy and girl, one to nine—are heard) Right turn!
MRS. HUBBARD. Darling one, I almost seem to hear them!
MR. HUBBARD. Are you ready, my love?
MRS. HUBBARD. Yes, Henry.
MR. HUBBARD. Quick march!
(The children are heard tramping off. Very proudly MR. and MRS. HUBBARD bring up the rear.)
SCENE IV.—The Court of FATHER CHRISTMAS. Shall we describe it? No. But there is everything there which any reasonable person could want, from ices to catapults. And the decorations, done in candy so that you can break off a piece whenever you are hungry, are superb.
1ST USHER (from the back). Father Christmas!
SEVERAL USHERS (from the front). Father Christmas! (He comes in.)
FATHER CHRISTMAS (genially). Good evening, everybody.
I ought to have said that there are already some hundreds of people there, though how some of them got invitations—but, after all, that is not our business. Wishing to put them quite at their ease, FATHER CHRISTMAS, who has a very creditable baritone, gives them a song. After the applause which follows it, he retires to the throne at the back, and awaits his more important guests. The USHERS take up their places, one at the entrance, one close to the throne.
1ST USHER. Mr. and Mrs. Henry Hubbard! (They come in.)
MR. HUBBARD (pressing twopence into his palm). Thank you, my man, thank you.
2ND USHER. Mr. and Mrs. Henry Hubbard.
MR. HUBBARD (handing out another twopence). Not at all, my man, not at all.
(MRS. HUBBARD curtsies and MR. HUBBARD bows to FATHER CHRISTMAS.)
FATHER CHRISTMAS. I am delighted to welcome you to my Court. How are you both?
MR. HUBBARD. Very well, thank you, sir. My wife has a slight cold in one foot, owing to—
MRS. HUBBARD (hastily). A touch of gout, sir, inherited from my ancestors, the Montmorency-Smythes.
FATHER CHRISTMAS. Dear me, it won't prevent you dancing, I hope?
MRS. HUBBARD. Oh no, sir.
FATHER CHRISTMAS. That's right. We shall have a few more friends coming in soon. You have been giving each other presents already, I see. I congratulate you, madam, on your husband's taste.
MRS. HUBBARD (touching her necklace). Oh no, this is a very old heirloom of the Montmorency-Smythe family.
MR. HUBBARD. An ancestress of Mrs. Hubbard's—a lady-in-waiting at the Tottenham Court—at the Tudor Court—was fortunate enough to catch the eye of—er—
MRS. HUBBARD. Elizabeth.
MR. HUBBARD. Queen Elizabeth, and—er—
FATHER CHRISTMAS. I see. You are lucky, madam, to have such beautiful jewels. (Turning to MR. HUBBARD) And this delightful gold Albert watch-chain—
MR. HUBBARD. Presented to an ancestor of mine, Sir Humphrey de Hubbard, at the battle of—er—
MRS. HUBBARD. Agincourt.
MR. HUBBARD. As you say, dear, Agincourt. By King Richard the—I should say William the—well, by the King.
FATHER CHRISTMAS. How very interesting.
MR. HUBBARD. Yes. My ancestor clove a scurvy knave from the chaps to the chine. I don't quite know how you do that, but I gather that he inflicted some sort of a scratch upon his adversary, and the King rewarded him with this handsome watch-chain.
USHERS (announcing). Mr. Robinson Crusoe! (He comes in.)
FATHER CHRISTMAS. How do you do?
CRUSOE (bowing). I'm a little late, I'm afraid, sir. My raft was delayed by adverse gales.
(FATHER CHRISTMAS introduces him to the HUBBARDS, who inform him that the weather is very seasonable.)
USHERS. Miss Riding Hood! (She comes in.)
FATHER CHRISTMAS. How do you do?
RIDING HOOD (curtseying). I hope I am in time, sir. I had to look in on my grandmother on the way here.
(FATHER CHRISTMAS makes the necessary introductions.)
MRS. HUBBARD (to CRUSOE). Do come and see me, Mr. Crusoe. Any Friday. I should like your advice about my parrot. He's moulting in all the wrong places.
MR. HUBBARD (to RED RIDING HOOD). I don't know if you're interested in wolves at all, Miss Hood. I heard a very good story about one the other day. (He begins to tell it, but she has hurried away before he can remember whether it was Thursday or Friday.)
USHERS. Baron Bluebeard! (He comes in.)
FATHER CHRISTMAS. How do you do?
BLUEBEARD (bowing). I trust you have not been waiting for me, sir. I had a slight argument with my wife before starting, which delayed me somewhat.
(FATHER CHRISTMAS forgives him.)
USHERS. Princess Goldilocks!
FATHER CHRISTMAS. How do you do?
GOLDILOCKS (curtseying). I brought the youngest bear with me—do you mind? (She introduces the youngest bear to FATHER CHRISTMAS and the other guests) Say, how do you do, darling? (To an USHER) Will you give him a little porridge, please, and if you have got a nice bed where he could rest a little afterwards—he gets tired so quickly.
USHER. Certainly, your Royal Highness.
(Music begins.)
GOLDILOCKS (to FATHER CHRISTMAS). Are we going to dance? How lovely!
FATHER CHRISTMAS (to the HUBBARDS). You will dance, won't you?
MRS. HUBBARD. I think not just at first, thank you.
GOLDILOCKS (to CRUSOE). Come along!
CRUSOE. I am a little out of practice—er—but if you don't mind—er—(He comes.)
BLUEBEARD (to RIDING HOOD). May I have the pleasure?
MRS. HUBBARD (to RIDING HOOD). Be careful, dear; he has a very bad reputation.
RIDING HOOD (to BLUEBEARD). You don't eat people, do you?
BLUEBEARD (pained by this injustice). Never!
RIDING HOOD. Oh then, I don't mind. But I do hate being eaten.
Now we can't possibly describe the whole dance to you, for in every corner of the big ballroom couples were revolving and sliding, and making small talk with each other. So we will just take two specimen conversations.
CRUSOE (nervous, poor man). Princess Goldilocks, may I speak to you on a matter of some importance to me?
GOLDILOCKS. I wish you would.
CRUSOE (looking across at BLUEBEARD and RED RIDING HOOD, who are revolving close by). Alone.
GOLDILOCKS (to BLUEBEARD). Do you mind? You can have your turn afterwards.
BLUEBEARD (to RIDING HOOD). Shall we adjourn to the Buffet?
RIDING HOOD. Oh, do let's. [They adjourn.
CRUSOE (bravely). Princess, I am a lonely man.
GOLDILOCKS (encouragingly). Yes, Robinson?
CRUSOE. I am not much of a one for society, and I don't quite know how to put these things, but—er—if you would like to share my island, I—I should so love to have you there.
GOLDILOCKS. Oh, Robbie!
CRUSOE (warming to it). I have a very comfortable house, and a man-servant, and an excellent view from the south windows, and several thousands of acres of good rough-shooting, and—oh, do say you'll come!
GOLDILOCKS. May I bring my bears with me?
CRUSOE. Of course! I ought to have said that. I have a great fondness for animals.
GOLDILOCKS. How sweet of you! But perhaps I ought to warn you that we all like porridge. Have you——
CRUSOE. I have a hundred acres of oats.
GOLDILOCKS. Then, Robinson, I am yours. (They embrace) There! Now tell me—did you make all your clothes yourself?
CRUSOE (proudly). All of them.
GOLDILOCKS (going off with him). How wonderful of you! Really you hardly seem to want a wife.
[They go out. Now it is the other couple's turn.
Enter, then, BLUEBEARD and RIDING HOOD
BLUEBEARD. Perhaps I ought to tell you at once, Miss Riding Hood, that I have been married before.
RIDING HOOD. Yes?
BLUEBEARD. My last wife unfortunately died just before I started out here this evening.
RIDING HOOD (calmly). Did you kill her?
BLUEBEARD (taken aback). I—I—I—
RIDING HOOD. Are you quite a nice man, Bluebeard?
BLUEBEARD. W-what do you mean? I am a very rich man. If you will marry me, you will live in a wonderful castle, full of everything that you want.
RIDING HOOD. That will be rather jolly.
BLUEBEARD (dramatically) But there is one room into which you must never go. (Holding up a key) Here is the key of it. (He offers it to her.)
RIDING HOOD (indifferently) But if I'm never to go into it, I shan't want the key.
BLUEBEARD (upset). You—you must have the key.
RIDING HOOD. Why?
BLUEBEARD. The—the others all had it.
RIDING HOOD (coldly). Bluebeard, you aren't going to talk about your other wives all the time, are you?
BLUEBEARD. N—no.
RIDING HOOD. Then don't be silly. And take this key, and go and tidy up that ridiculous room of yours, and when it's nice and clean, and when you've shaved off that absurd beard, perhaps I'll marry you.
BLUEBEARD (furiously drawing his sword). Madam!
RIDING HOOD. Don't do it here. You'll want some hot water.
BLUEBEARD (trying to put his sword back). This is too much, this is—
RIDING HOOD. You're putting it in the wrong way round.
BLUEBEARD (stiffly). Thank you. (He manages to get it in.)
RIDING HOOD. Well, do you want to marry me?
BLUEBEARD. Yes!
RIDING HOOD. Sure?
BLUEBEARD (admiringly). More than ever. You're the first woman I've met who hasn't been afraid of me.
RIDING HOOD (surprised). Are you very alarming? Wolves frighten me sometimes, but not just silly men. . . . (Giving him her hand) All right then. But you'll do what I said?
BLUEBEARD. Beloved one, I will do anything for you.
(CRUSOE and GOLDILOCKS come back. Probably it will occur to the four of them to sing a song indicative of the happy family life awaiting them. On the other hand they may prefer to dance. . . ..)
But enough of this. Let us get on to the great event of the evening. Ladies and gentlemen, are you all assembled? Then silence, please, for FATHER CHRISTMAS.
FATHER CHRISTMAS. Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to see you here at my Court this evening; and in particular my friends Mr. and Mrs. Hubbard, of whom I have been too long neglectful. However, I hope to make up for it to-night. (To an USHER) Disclose the Christmas Tree!
The Christmas Tree is disclosed, and—what do you think? Children disguised as crackers are hanging from every branch! Well, I never!
FATHER CHRISTMAS (quite calmly). Distribute the presents!
(An USHER takes down the children one by one and places them in a row, reading from the labels on them. "MRS. HUBBARD, MR. HUBBARD" alternately.)
USHER (handing list to MR. HUBBARD). Here is the nominal roll, sir.
MR. HUBBARD (looking at it in amazement). What's this? (MRS. HUBBARD looks over his shoulder) Ada, Bertram, Caroline—My darling one!
MRS. HUBBARD. Henry! Our children at last! Oh, are they all—all there?
MR. HUBBARD. We'll soon see, dear. Ada!
ADA (springing to attention). Father! (She stands at ease.)
MR. HUBBARD. Bertram! . . . (And so on up to ELSIE) . . . Frank!
FRANK. Father!
MR. HUBBARD. There you are, darling, I told you he had curly brown hair. . . . Gwendoline! (And so on.)
MRS. HUBBARD (to FATHER CHRISTMAS). Oh thank you so much. It is sweet of you.
MR. HUBBARD (to FATHER CHRISTMAS). We are slightly overcome. Do you mind if we just dance it off. (FATHER CHRISTMAS nods genially.) Come on, children!
(He holds out his hands, and he and his wife and the children dance round in a ring singing, "Here we go round the Christmas Tree, all on a Christmas evening. . . .")
And then—But at this moment JAMES and ROSEMARY and the HUBBARD children stopped thinking, so of course the play came to an end. And if there were one or two bits in it which the children didn't quite understand, that was JAMES'S fault. He never ought to have been thinking at all, really.