(_The man sits up._)
MAN. Good evening, Missis.
MARION. Good luck to you to-night, Cinderella.
(_She goes._)
(_The man slips forward and lifts the penny._)
CINDERELLA (_returning to earth sharply_). Put that down.
MAN. I was only looking at the newness of it. I was just admiring
the design.
(_The newness and the design both disappear into the box.
A bearded person wearing the overalls of a sea-faring man
lurches down the street and enters the emporium. Have we
seen him before? Who can this hairy monster be?_)
POLICEMAN (_in an incredibly gruff voice_). I want a pennyworth.
CINDERELLA (_unsuspecting_). Sit down. (_She surveys the coster._)
It’s you that belongs to the shirt, isn’t it?
MAN. Yes; is’t ready?
CINDERELLA. It’s ready.
(_It proves to be not a shirt, but a ‘front’ of linen,
very stiff and starched. The laundress cautiously retains
possession of it._)
The charge is a penny.
MAN. On delivery.
CINDERELLA. Before delivery.
MAN. Surely you can trust me.
CINDERELLA. You’ve tried that on before, my man. Never again! All
in this street knows my rule,—Trust in the Lord—every other person,
cash.
(_A penny and a ‘shirt’ pass between them and he departs._)
(CINDERELLA _turns her attention to the newcomer_.)
What’s your pleasure?
POLICEMAN. Shave, please.
CINDERELLA (_quivering before his beard_). Shave! I shaves in an
ordinary way, but I don’t know as I could tackle that.
POLICEMAN. I thought you was a barber.
CINDERELLA (_stung_). I’ll get the lather.
(_She goes doubtfully into what she calls her bedroom._
_He seizes this opportunity to survey the room. A
remarkable man this, his attention is at once riveted on
the boxes, but before he can step on a chair and take a
peep the barber returns with the implements of her calling.
He reaches his chair in time not to be caught by her. She
brings in a bowl of soap and water and a towel, which she
puts round him in the correct manner._)
CINDERELLA. You’re thin on the top.
POLICEMAN (_in his winding sheet_). I’ve all run to beard.
CINDERELLA (_the ever ready_). I have a ointment for the hair; it
is my own invention. The price is a penny.
POLICEMAN (_gruffly_). Beard, please.
CINDERELLA. I’ve got some voice drops.
POLICEMAN. Beard, please.
CINDERELLA (_as she prepares the lather_). Is the streets quiet?
POLICEMAN (_cunningly_). Hereabouts they are; but there’s great
doings in the fashionable quarters. A ball, I’m told.
CINDERELLA (_gasping_). You didn’t see no peculiar person about in
this street?
POLICEMAN. How peculiar?
CINDERELLA. Like a—a flunkey?
POLICEMAN. Did I now—or did I not?
CINDERELLA (_eagerly_). He would be carrying an invite maybe; it’s
a big card.
POLICEMAN. I can’t say I saw him.
(_Here an astonishing thing happens. The head of a child
rises from one of the boxes. She is unseen by either of the
mortals._)
CINDERELLA (_considering the beard_). How do I start with the like
of this?
POLICEMAN. First you saws....
(_She attempts to saw. The beard comes off in her hand._)
CINDERELLA (_recognising his face_). You!
POLICEMAN (_stepping triumphantly out of his disguise_). Me!
(_As sometimes happens, however, the one who means to
give the surprise gets a greater. At sight of his dreaded
uniform the child screams, whereat two other children in
other boxes bob up and scream also. It is some time before
the policeman can speak._)
So that’s what the boxes was for!
CINDERELLA (_feebly_). Yes.
POLICEMAN (_portentously_). Who and what are these phenomenons?
CINDERELLA (_protectingly_). Don’t be frightened, children. Down!
(_They disappear obediently._)
There’s no wrong in it. They’re just me trying to do my bit. It’s
said all should do their bit in war-time. It was into a hospital
I wanted to go to nurse the wounded soldiers. I offered myself
at every hospital door, but none would have me, so this was all I
could do.
POLICEMAN. You’re taking care of them?
(_She nods._)
Sounds all right. Neighbours’ children?
CINDERELLA. The brown box is. She’s half of an orphan, her father’s
a bluejacket, so, of course, I said I would.
POLICEMAN. You need say no more. I pass little bluejacket.
CINDERELLA. Those other two is allies. She’s French—and her’s a
Belgy—(_calls_). Marie-Therese.
(_The French child sits up._)
Speak your language to the gentleman, Marie-Therese.
MARIE. Bon soir, monsieur—comment portez-vous? Je t’aime. (_She
curtseys charmingly to him from the box._)
POLICEMAN. Well, I’m ——d!
CINDERELLA. Delphine.
(_The Belgian looks up._)
Make votre bow.
Gladys!
(_The English child bobs up._)
A friend, Gladys.
(GLADYS _and the policeman grin to each other_.)
GLADYS. What cheer!
CINDERELLA. Monsieur is a Britain’s defender.
MARIE. Oh, la, la! Parlez-vous français, monsieur? Non! I blow you
two kisses, monsieur—the one is to you (_kisses hand_) to keep, the
other you will give—(_kisses hand_) to Kitch.
POLICEMAN (_writing_). Sends kiss to Lord Kitchener.
CINDERELLA. She’s the one that does most of the talking.
POLICEMAN (_who is getting friendly_). I suppose that other box is
an empty.
(CINDERELLA’S _mouth closes_.)
Is that box empty?
CINDERELLA. It’s not exactly empty.
POLICEMAN. What’s inside?
CINDERELLA. She’s the littlest.
(_The children exchange glances and she is severe._)
Couchy.
(_They disappear._)
POLICEMAN. An ally?
CINDERELLA. She’s—she’s—Swiss.
POLICEMAN (_lowering_). Now then!
CINDERELLA. She’s not exactly Swiss. You can guess now what she is.
POLICEMAN (_grave_). This puts me in a very difficult position.
CINDERELLA (_beginning to cry_). Nobody would take her. She was
left over. I tried not to take her. I’m a patriot, I am. But there
she was—left over—and her so terrible little—I couldn’t help taking
her.
POLICEMAN. I dunno. (_Quite unfairly._) If her folk had been in
your place and you in hers, they would have shown neither mercy nor
pity for you.
CINDERELLA (_stoutly_). That makes no difference.
POLICEMAN (_Was this the great moment?_). I think there’s something
uncommon about you.
CINDERELLA (_pleased_). About _me_?
POLICEMAN. I suppose she’s sleeping.
CINDERELLA. Not her!
POLICEMAN. What’s she doing?
CINDERELLA. She’s strafing!
POLICEMAN. Who’s she strafing?
CINDERELLA. Very likely you. She misses nobody. You see I’ve put
some barb-wire round her box.
POLICEMAN. I see now.
CINDERELLA. It’s not really barb-wire. It’s worsted. I was feared
the wire would hurt her. But it just makes a difference.
POLICEMAN. How do the others get on with her?
CINDERELLA. I makes them get on with her. Of course there’s tongues
out, and little things like that.
POLICEMAN. Were the foreign children shy of you at first?
CINDERELLA. Not as soon as they heard my name. ‘Oh, are you
Cinderella?’ they said, in their various languages—and ‘when’s the
ball?’ they said.
POLICEMAN. Somebody must have telled them about you.
CINDERELLA (_happy_). Not here. They had heard about me in their
foreign lands. Everybody knows Cinderella, it’s fine. Even
her—(_indicating German_) the moment I mentioned my name—‘Where’s
your ugly sisters?’ says she, looking round.
POLICEMAN. Sisters? It’s new to me, your having sisters. (_He
produces his note book._)
CINDERELLA (_uneasily_). It’s kind of staggering to me, too. I
haven’t been able to manage them yet, but they’ll be at the ball.
POLICEMAN. It’s queer.
CINDERELLA. It _is_ queer.
POLICEMAN. (_sitting down with her_). How do you know this ball’s
to-night?
CINDERELLA. It had to be some night. You see, after I closes my
business I have chats with the children about things, and naturally
it’s mostly about the ball. I put it off as long as I could, but it
had to be some night—and this is the night.
POLICEMAN. You mean it’s make-believe?
CINDERELLA (_almost fiercely_). None of that!
POLICEMAN (_shaking his head_). I don’t like it.
CINDERELLA (_shining_). You wouldn’t say that if you heard the
blasts on the trumpet and loud roars of ‘Make way for the Lady
Cinderella!’
(_Three heads pop up again._)
POLICEMAN. Lady?
CINDERELLA (_in a tremble of exultation_). That’s me. That’s what
you’re called at royal balls. Then loud huzzas is heard outside
from the excited popu-lace, for by this time the fame of my beauty
has spread like wild-fire through the streets, and folks is hanging
out at windows and climbing lamp-posts to catch a sight of me.
(_Delight of the children._)
POLICEMAN. My sakes, you see the whole thing clear!
CINDERELLA. I see it from beginning to end—like as if I could touch
it—the gold walls and the throne, and the lamp-posts and the horses.
POLICEMAN. The horses?
CINDERELLA. ... Well, the competitors. The speeches—everything. If
only I had my invite! That wasn’t a knock at the door, was it?
POLICEMAN (_so carried away that he goes to see_). No.
CINDERELLA (_vindictively_). I daresay that flunkey’s sitting
drinking in some public-house.
(_Here_ MARIE-THERESE _and_ GLADYS, _who have been
communicating across their boxes, politely invite the_
POLICEMAN _to go away_.)
MARIE. Bonne nuit, Monsieur.
GLADYS. Did you say you was going, Mister?
POLICEMAN. They’re wonderful polite.
CINDERELLA. I doubt that’s not politeness. The naughties—they’re
asking you to go away.