celebration be put off till to-morrow? Put-off things are never quite so
nice!
THE QUEEN.
It is only the dance that is postponed. You shall have your cake as
usual! See; here comes the cook with it now!
[_ENTER the COOK bearing triumphantly aloft a huge cake decorated with
candles, unlighted. He is followed respectfully by a KITCHEN-BOY carrying
a lighted taper._]
THE COOK.
With the compliments of the Cook to Her Royal Highness Princess
Moss-Rose! [_He sets the cake down on the table._] Now, Boy, do your
duty, but don’t drop wax all over the place!
MOSS-ROSE.
Thank-you, dear Cooky! Oh, what a beauty it is!
[_ENTER the LORD CHANCELLOR followed by the GARDENER who bears a
watering-pot. He is followed by a BOY who carries a small ladder._]
THE CHANCELLOR.
Good-morning to your Majesties, and to your Royal Highness!
KING, QUEEN AND PRINCESS.
Good-morning, my Lord High Chancellor!
THE CHANCELLOR.
My congratulations to Your Majesty [_to the QUEEN_] and to your Royal
Highness!
QUEEN AND PRINCESS.
We thank you, my Lord High Chancellor!
THE GARDENER.
My homage to Your Majesties and to Your Royal Highness!
KING, QUEEN AND PRINCESS.
We thank you kindly, Court Gardener!
[_THE BOY sets the ladder against the christening mug, and mounting this
the GARDENER waters the moss-rose bush in it. Instantly this shoots
up several feet in height, broadening increasingly. ALL exclaim with
admiration._]
THE GARDENER.
Ah, there’s nothing like it in the history of floriculture! And this the
wee slip of a plant I was setting out the day our little Princess was
born!
THE COOK.
[_Calling attention to the cake._] Sixteen, and one for luck!
THE GARDENER.
[_Approaching MOSS-ROSE with a bunch of the flowers that he has
plucked._] Sixteen, and one for luck!
MOSS-ROSE.
How good you all are to me!
[_THE GARDENER and THE COOK followed by their attendants, go._]
THE CHANCELLOR.
Sixteen!... We soon shall be having to find a suitable alliance for our
Princess!
THE KING.
Dear, dear, there you go again! I’ve been all over the map, and there’s
nobody, positively nobody, that will do! They are all so ignorant; they
only speak foreign languages! What do I want with a son-in-law who can
only laugh at my jokes through an interpreter?
THE CHANCELLOR.
None the less, Sire, we cannot have our Princess remain a sp... er ...
unmarried!
MOSS-ROSE.
[_With quick curiosity._] What is the word you were going to say,
beginning with s-p?
THE CHANCELLOR.
Ahem! Pardon, my dear; I was not going to say anything of the sort! There
is no word applicable to the situation beginning with s-p!
MOSS-ROSE.
Oh, but there is; a word that has been blotted out of all the
dictionaries in my school-room!
THE KING.
[_Hastily._] By special Act of Parliament! Royal Prerogative, and all
that, you know!
MOSS-ROSE.
It is the same way with music; some kinds of songs are blotted out for
Princesses, it seems! There was the prettiest song I came upon. It
sounded buzz, buzz, buzz, like the turning of a wheel! But my teacher
said that I must never, never sing it! Now why not, I wonder!
[_THE OTHERS exchange anxious glances._]
THE QUEEN.
Everything shall be explained to you to-morrow! Go to your room now,
dear, and you will find there the linen chest we have been preparing for
your dowry, ready for the time Prince Charming comes to claim your hand!
THE GOVERNESS.
[_Entering with a fine table-cloth in her hand._] Madam, I brought a
table-cloth to show you the marking ... a moss-rose!
THE QUEEN.
[_Approving._] That is right! See, daughter! The finest linen ever sp...
manufactured!
MOSS-ROSE.
How is linen-thread sp-manufactured?
ALL.
[_Hastily._] It isn’t!
MOSS-ROSE.
[_Persisting._] Linen is woven of thread; that I know. And thread is made
of flax, and flax grows in the garden; that I know! But how is flax made
into thread? No one ever will answer me that! And it has been blotted out
of the encyclopedia!
[_There is a slight pause._]
THE KING.
Come, come, child; trust your parents to-day, and to-morrow I’ll sp...
I’ll reel you a long yarn about it!
MOSS-ROSE.
There again! Everyone begins a word with s-p, and then stops short as if
they had bumped their heads or stubbed their toes against it!
[_ENTER THE FROG in a bathrobe under which it is seen that he wears a
bathing-suit._]
THE FROG.
Good-morning, friends! Congratulations to those to whom congratulations
are due, eh, what?
THE KING.
Morning, old man!
THE QUEEN.
[_At the same time._] Thank you, dear Sir Amphibious!
THE CHANCELLOR.
Good-morning, Sir Amphibious!
MOSS-ROSE.
Oh, godfather, where are you going? Not to your pond again?
THE FROG.
Only for a dip, my dear! Truth is I’m feeling rather dry!
THE CHANCELLOR.
Can’t I ring for a glass of water for you?
THE FROG.
My dear fellow! Do give me credit for some command of proper language!
Even reptiles know that dry refers to the outside, while for the inner
man one says thirsty!
MOSS-ROSE.
Oh, stay and play with me!
THE FROG.
When I’ve had my dip! Till I’ve had my dip I’m poor company; my head
positively sp— [_He stops short, then lamely finishes_] aches! Turns
round and round, you know!
MOSS-ROSE.
Isn’t there a word that means all that; turns round and round, you know!
Something beginning with s-p?
THE FROG.
Not in Court circles! [_There is a slight pause._] Let me go now, there’s
a love, and I’ll bring you something pretty from the bottom of the pond!
THE GOVERNESS.
Come, dear, and see your linen chest!
MOSS-ROSE.
[_Going with the GOVERNESS._] Even my godfather, my pet Froggy, bites
his tongue off sooner than finish the mysterious word beginning with
s-p! [_She goes with the GOVERNESS. Those who remain look at one another
meaningly._]
THE KING.
I wonder if we hadn’t better have told the child all along!
THE FROG.
That was my advice, as you know!
THE QUEEN.
Perhaps it would have been wiser, but how can one inform a beloved child
of a threatened danger?
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Turning over the volumes._] Most perplexing! A situation absolutely
without precedent!
THE KING.
Well, after all, it is only getting through this day, and then we can all
breathe freely forever after! Suppose we summon the Court and arrange
what measures must be taken for the safety of the Princess! Eh, my Lord?
THE CHANCELLOR.
That seems quite lucid, Sire; in fact, almost sensible!... I mean, er....
[_He rings and the BUTLER appears immediately._] Summon the ladies and
gentlemen of the Court! [_THE BUTLER disappears. There is a bugle-call
outside._]
THE QUEEN.
It’s too ridiculous, but ever since I wakened this morning I have seemed
to hear a buzz-buzz-buzz, whir-r-r, humm-m-m, just as if there were a
sp—one of the things concealed in the room!
THE OTHERS.
So have I! [_The faint, very faint sound of a spinning-wheel is heard and
a soft voice crooning the SPIN-WHEEL SONG. ALL start._] There it is now!
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Recovering himself._] Imagination! Why, there isn’t one in existence in
the kingdom!
[_THE LORDS and LADIES enter, and take ceremonial positions, bowing and
curtseying to their MAJESTIES. The KING and QUEEN sit, motioning all to
do likewise. ALL obey. THE KING then begins._]
THE KING.
My Lords and Ladies.... This, as you know, is the sixteenth anniversary
of the birth of our beloved daughter, the Princess Moss-Rose. For the
benefit of such of you as were not here when Heaven sent her to us we
will rehearse an incident that then took place. To her christening feast
as godmothers were bidden all the Good Fairies and Wise Women in our
kingdom—
THE FROG.
—to co-operate with me as godfather! I held the child at the font!
THE KING.
There were twelve of these ladies.
THE CHANCELLOR.
Thirteen, Sire!
THE KING.
True, but thirteen is an unlucky number! That is why I suppressed one!
THE QUEEN.
And the thirteenth wasn’t a nice person at all! Not at all! Besides we
had only a dozen extra spoons and forks!
THE KING.
But all the same, this Dame Envy-Hatred-Malice-and-All-Uncharitableness
got wind of the affair and came uninvited!
THE CHANCELLOR.
Oh, if you had only let me manage it!
THE KING.
Well—she came!
THE QUEEN.
She wasn’t at all nice! And I didn’t like the way she was dressed one
bit! Not one bit!
THE KING.
Our valued Sir Amphibious presented the mug—[_Indicates the mug._]
Sterling silver and richly chased!
THE FROG.
Aye, indeed! I chased it round and round the pond when it was first
dropped in, for at least three centuries!
THE KING.
The twelve godmothers bestowed good wishes on our child—
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Referring to a volume._] Entered over their own signatures in the
guest-book. The kindest wishes, though expressed in verse of an impromptu
and inferior cast!
THE KING.
But the uninvited and unwelcome one revenged herself by putting on our
child a curse! [_ALL echo, “A curse!”_] Read it, my Lord Chancellor!
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Referring to volume._] That on the sixteenth anniversary of her birth
the Princess Moss-Rose should prick her finger with the spindle of a
spinning-wheel, and die of the wound. [_ALL, even those who are familiar
with the story, exclaim with horror._]
THE KING.
No wonder you shudder! No wonder tongue and pen alike recoil from
chronicling the incident! However, our dear Sir Amphibious exercised his
prerogative, in also making for our child a wish.
THE QUEEN.
So sweet of him when he had already given the mug!
THE FROG.
Oh, don’t mention it! What godfather under like circumstances would not
do the same? I could not unwish the old hag’s wish, but at least it was
within my humble powers to modify it!
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Referring to the volume._] Sir Amphibious fortunately was able to cross
out the unpleasant word _die_ and substitute for it, _sleep for a term
not exceeding one hundred years_!
THE FROG.
That’s it! A mere bagatelle, one hundred years, when measured up with
eternity, eh, what!
THE KING.
But, even so, do we want the light of our eyes and sunshine of our lives
suspended for a century!
ALL.
[_With emphasis._] No!
THE QUEEN.
Even suppose that the King and I were to survive it, it would be most
awkward to introduce to society a débutante Princess of a hundred and
sixteen years of age!
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Shaking his head mournfully._] The only suitable alliance would be
found in a Home for Aged Princes! It is true that some of the abdicated
ones are in an excellent state of preservation, but it isn’t the same
thing!
ALL.
Not at all the same thing!
THE KING.
To prevent these little contre-tempses, as the French call them, I
forthwith issued a proclamation—
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Referring to volume._] All spinning-wheels to be banished from the
kingdom—
THE QUEEN.
It has made the price of household linen dreadfully high, but what else
could we do?
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Continuing, from volume._] The word _spin_ with all its variants to be
blotted from dictionaries, dropped from conversation. To compose or sing
a spinning-wheel song a capital offence. All spinsters to choose between
death or matrimony!
THE QUEEN.
And all of the self-sacrificing dears chose matrimony! So loyal of them!
THE KING.
Now while we flatter ourselves that our Anti-spindle campaign has been an
unqualified success, yet there is this day with its fatal possibilities
to be safely passed through! The question before us is, how best to guard
the Princess from the one chance in a million-billion that a spindle yet
exists!
THE FROG.
Let her spend it with me at the bottom of the pond! [_ALL murmur
appreciatively._]
THE QUEEN.
How dear of you! But she isn’t used to the damp!
THE KING.
Besides, someone might have thrown a spinning-wheel, or just the spindle,
into it, you know!
ALL.
[_Considering._] That’s true!
THE CHANCELLOR.
So long as there’s no precedent to go by, suppose we ourselves adopt an
original measure. Suppose we take the Princess into our confidence so
that she can herself be on her guard! [_This gives rise to murmurs, some
approving, others dissenting._]
THE KING.
It’s rather radical, not to say subversive, to teach young people
anything that isn’t perfectly pleasant, but—isn’t it best to let them
find out for themselves that roses have thorns?
THE CHANCELLOR.
Hardly, Sire, considering the price of the prick!
THE FROG.
That’s what I have always said!
THE QUEEN.
Yes, but then you two haven’t the feelings of a mother! If you think
there are no pricks, why, then there are none!... Ouch! What was that?
THE KING.
Oh, nothing, my love! I only stuck a pin into your arm to test your
theory!
THE QUEEN.
But it isn’t a fair test unless you tell that you are going to do it, so
that I can make up my mind not to feel it!
THE KING.
I see! Well, but to come back to the question, who is to tell our child
of the peril in which she stands?
THE QUEEN.
Why, you, of course! You are head of the family!
THE KING.
Only when there’s something unpleasant to be done! When it’s a matter of
buying new head-gear, Paris hats, and all that, who is head of the family
then, I’d like to know!—However, I suppose I had better take the child
into the library, and say: “My child, I do not wish to alarm you, but—”
[_ALL murmur, protesting against this._] Oh, very well, then! Someone
else will have to do it!
THE CHANCELLOR.
Couldn’t it be led up to diplomatically, Sire? Use tact! As thus: “How
pretty you look to-day, my little daughter! Which reminds me; speaking
of the uncertainty of life—” [_Again ALL protest._] Oh, as you please! I
only threw out the suggestion!
THE FROG.
Why not be playful? Introduce death jocosely into the conversation! Begin
with dead letters and go on to the dead languages! Ask her how long a
dead-weight is! And if a dead-lock grows on a dead-head! [_Again ALL
protest strongly._] Oh, very well! Do it your own way!
THE KING.
Why can’t the child’s governess teach her all about it? It seems to me it
is a matter of education, entirely!
THE GOVERNESS.
Pardon, Sire. Questions concerning life and death were strictly barred
from the curriculum on which my diploma was obtained!
THE KING.
Well, something has to be done; that’s clear!
ALL.
Yes, that’s clear!
THE KING.
But what? And how? That’s the question!
ALL.
Yes, that’s the question!
THE QUEEN.
I have an idea! Let us all tell her, together, in concert! [_ALL
assent._] Let us all begin, “My dear little Moss-Rose—Our dear little
Moss-Rose—”
ALL.
[_Clap hands._] Oh, excellent!
THE KING.
Yes! Well, and then—?
THE QUEEN.
Yes; what then?
ALL.
Yes; what then?
THE NURSE.
Madam, if I may make so bold—
THE QUEEN.
Well, nurse? What have you to suggest?
THE NURSE.
The Princess has always been keen about fairy-stories! Why not tell it to
her, each contributing a bit, as if it were a fairy-story? Begin, Once
upon a time!
[_ALL exclaim, interested._]
THE QUEEN.
But, my dear soul; this is true! How can we pretend about it?
[_ALL agree to this view of the matter._]
THE NURSE.
Madam, it’s by pretending that truth is a fairy-story we make children
know it’s true!
THE QUEEN.
Nurse, you’re a darling, but so old-fashioned! Fairy-stories don’t happen
nowadays, do they, Sir Amphibious?
THE FROG.
My old grandmother, Mother Goose, believes in them! But then, she’s a
Mother Goose!
THE GARDENER.
Fairy-stories happen in the greenhouse, and miracles in the garden all
the time! I help ’em along! Why, look at that bonny moss-rose bush!
Sixteen years from to-day it was but a wee slip, as tiny in its way as
the Princess in hers!
THE KING.
But, my dear fellow, that’s only nature, and we are talking about life
and death, which are social functions, eh, my Lord High Chancellor?
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Corroborating this._] Social functions, Sire! Greatly copied by the
lower classes!
[_There is a pause._]
THE KING.
Well, what are we to do? [_MOSS-ROSE is heard, singing, approaching._]
Here comes the child now! Why didn’t we prepare for this long ago?
THE GARDENER.
Sixteen years ago, when I planted that wee slip!
THE KING.
Something has to be done! Nurse’s suggestion—it’s the simplest! We’ll
tell her her own story as if it were a fairy-story! Remember, all must
help! All must begin, Once upon a time! [_MOSS-ROSE enters, laden with
presents._] Ah, my dear child! Come here! We’re going to tell you
something—a fairy-story, eh, my Lords and Ladies?
ALL.
Yes, indeed! Once upon a time—
MOSS-ROSE.
Oh, you darlings! But, wait! Wait till I have thanked you all for the
lovely presents you have given me! [_She lays them heaped on the
table._] They’re all of them just exactly what I wanted! Just as if they
came out of a fairy-book! So, now, then, for your story! [_She seats
herself on a step of the throne._]
THE KING AND QUEEN.
My dear little Moss-Rose—
ALL.
Our dear little Moss-Rose—
MOSS-ROSE.
Oh, wait! My candles! [_She runs toward the cake._] Before they burn down
you must all blow them out together! But first each must make me a wish!
Now, wish, in silence, then when I count three, blow! Blow hard, all
together! Ready! One, two, three—Blow! [_ALL blow, and the candle-flames
are extinguished._] Good! Now I am going to have luck till my next
birthday! [_She returns to her place on the throne-step._] Now, then, for
the fairy-story! Once upon a time—
ALL.
Once upon a time—
MOSS-ROSE.
[_Starts up._] Wait! Hush! Oh, listen! Listen! [_ALL show alarm at her
manner._]
THE QUEEN.
Moss-Rose—my child—what is it!
MOSS-ROSE.
[_As if drawn slowly nearer the enchanted mug._] Oh, wonderful! So
soft—but always growing louder, coming nearer—like the turning of a
wheel! [_ALL exclaim, in alarm._] Oh, it sounds like—Oh, it is that
forbidden word beginning with s-p!
[_Again ALL cry out in wildest alarm. MOSS-ROSE, however, begins to
dance, and grow excited. Meanwhile the sound of the WHEEL is heard
whirring, and a faint voice croons the SPIN-WHEEL’S SONG._]
THE KING.
[_Trying to catch MOSS-ROSE._] My precious one, come to your father!
THE QUEEN.
[_Also trying to catch her._] My baby, come hide your head in mother’s
lap where you won’t hear it!
MOSS-ROSE.
[_Eluding capture._] Oh, but I want to hear it! It is beautiful, but
terrible! Terrible, but beautiful! It is drawing me away from you all!
Oh, now I begin to understand! Strange voices are telling me the word you
all bump your heads and stub your poor toes against!—Consider the lilies
of the field, How they grow! That’s what the archbishop preached about.
They toil not, he said, neither do they sp— Then he broke off, just as
everybody does, as if a thread were snapped when anyone said something
beginning with s-p!
THE CHANCELLOR.
Your Royal Highness—my precious Princess—Listen! I’ll explain! Oh, listen
to your old friend!
MOSS-ROSE.
I’d like to please you, my dear Lord, but—buzz, whir—sp-p—
[_Everyone shrieks, preventing her saying the word._]
THE FROG.
[_Seizing her hand._] Come, my darling goddaughter—to the pond—the pond!
MOSS-ROSE.
Oh, but my dear, dear Sir Amphibious, I can’t! Don’t you hear it calling
me? Buzz-whir—telling me it is the appointed day! [_Again ALL cry out._]
THE COOK.
[_Followed by his assistants rushes in, agitated, brandishing a
soup-ladle._] Oh, Sire, Madam—in the kitchen—the strangest noise—There it
is now! Buzz, whir, sp—
[_Again ALL cry out._]
MOSS-ROSE.
[_In an ecstasy._] Spin! That’s what it says! Spin-Spin-Spin!
[_ALL shriek with horror. Confusion prevails._]
THE KING.
[_In wildest alarm._] Hunt it! Kill it! Loose the dogs! Turn the hose
upon it!
ALL.
[_Rushing about wildly._] Hunt it! Kill it! Destroy the spinning-wheel!
Loose the dogs! Turn the hose on it! Banish it! Behead it! Death to the
spinning-wheel!
[_Brandishing whatever comes to hand as weapon ALL rush out in different
directions, seeking the enemy. Meanwhile the buzzing sound seems to
pervade the place, as if myriad spinning-wheels were at work. MOSS-ROSE,
who alone remains, dances in ecstasy. Rising from her christening mug
appear the THREE FATES, known to the ancients as ATROPOS, CLOTHO and
LACHESIS in their traditional attitudes. They are singing as they work._]
THE SPIN-WHEEL SONG
Hear the merry spin-wheel’s song:
Wake! Day’s begun!
Thread comes short and thread comes long,
Spin, spinning, spun!
Baby wakes and crows with glee.
Spin-wheel sings and so sings she:
Mm-m-m! Spin-wheel sings M-m!
See the King ride forth at noon,
Heralds before.
Life and death are in his boon,
Sweet peace and war.
Baby laughs and claps her hands;
She knows what the King commands.
Br-r-r! King commands Br!
God’s own angels from aloft
Down white moon’s beam
Gently slide and whisper soft
In baby’s dream.
Baby smiles, as well she may,
For she hears the angels say,
Hush! Angels say Hush-sh!
[_During this MOSS-ROSE looks up and seeing the THREE WEIRD SISTERS
dances and claps her hands in an ecstasy of glee, joining in the chorus
of the song. At one point, noticing the spindle, she holds up her hands
for this entreatingly, on which the FATE holding it, lowers it to her
by its thread. MOSS-ROSE delightedly dances about, playing with it, its
thread still retained by the FATE. Suddenly the maiden pricks her finger,
and stops in her dance. She staggers slightly, as if dizzy, looks at her
finger, sucks this, and laughs, as if it were but a trifling matter.
Then she passes her hand over her brow, as if dazed, becomes more and
more sleepy, and finally falls on a couch at the foot of the mug in
enchanted slumber. THE KING, QUEEN and all the COURT return, breathless
with their quest. THE FATES disappear as they came, but the spindle with
its attaching thread remains in the young girl’s hand._]
THE KING.
Strange, it’s nowhere to be found!
THE QUEEN.
Nowhere! We must just have thought there was one!
THE CHANCELLOR.
High and low—nowhere!
THE FROG.
By land or water—nowhere!
ALL.
Nowhere!
THE KING.
It is all right, Moss-Rose! Where are you, child?
THE QUEEN.
She’s hiding, frightened! Moss-Rose! There’s nothing to be afraid of,
darling! Where can the child be?
ALL.
[_Searching._] Moss-Rose! Princess Moss-Rose!
THE KING.
Search the forest! Drag the pond!
THE COURT.
Aye, search the forest, drag the pond!
THE FROG.
You look to the forest; leave the pond to me! [_While about to run out he
sees MOSS-ROSE and utters a wild cry._] Ah-h!
ALL.
What is it? [_They run to the spot, and seeing her, also cry out._]
THE KING.
My child, my little daughter, my Moss-Rose!
THE QUEEN.
Moss-Rose! Oh, my baby!
THE KING.
But however did it happen?
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Lifting the spindle._] See! See! A spindle! [_ALL exclaim._]
THE KING.
But how, where, why.... Where did it come from?
THE CHANCELLOR.
Attached to a thread that reaches ... reaches.... [_Growing sleepy._]
THE FROG.
Clear to the centre of the earth ... and the waters under the earth!
[_Yawning._]
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Dropping the spindle._] No precedent.... I don’t recall any precedent!
[_Yawning, he staggers over to the statute books and tries to turn over
the leaves of these._]
THE KING.
[_Chafing a hand of the sleeping girl._] But, my child—surely she is not
dead? [_ALL echo, “Not dead?”_]
THE QUEEN.
[_Kissing MOSS-ROSE._] No, no! Only sleeping!
ALL.
Ah, only sleeping!
THE CHANCELLOR.
Term not exceeding one hundred years—[_Sleepily._] Kind courtesy of Sir
Amphid—Amphid—phib—phib—phib—ib—ib—
THE FROG.
Just a trifling matter of a century!
THE QUEEN.
So kind of him when already—given—mug! [_Sleepily._] Good-night, my
darling, for one hundred years! [_Again kisses MOSS-ROSE and staggers to
throne, falls on this, in sound slumber._]
THE KING.
[_Following the QUEEN’S example._] Good-night, daughter—good-night,
everybody—one hundred—
ALL.
Good-night—everybody—one hundred—[_Falling asleep._]
THE FROG.
You see, moral is, no escaping Fate! Fate! [_Yawns._] Oh, I am so dry!
Can’t you spray me? [_To the GARDENER._]
THE GARDENER.
[_To his assistants who hold garden hose and watering-pot._] Don’t you
hear? Let spray!
THE FROG.
Aye, let spray! Always spray before going to bed! ’specially one hundred
years!
[_Drops off to sleep._]
THE GARDENER.
[_Catching hold of a branch of the wonderful moss-rose bush._] It’s the
finest moss-rose bush in all the world!—Little slip—this size—sixteen
years—Just think!—One hundred years—whole forest—moss roses!
[_Drops off to sleep._]
THE COOK.
[_Waking slightly._] Left roast on spit—bread in oven—Slightly
overdone—one hundred years!
THE BUTLER.