GLADYS (_with another inspiration_). Absent boxes!
POLICEMAN. Absent boxes! And there’s a party we know about who
would like uncommon to have the charge of the lot of them—(_looking
at Cinderella_). And I couples the toast with the name of the said
party.
CINDERELLA (_giving a pennyworth for nothing_). Kind friends, it
would be pretending of me not to let on that I know I am the party
referred to by the last speaker—in far too flattersome words. When
I look about me and see just four boxes I am a kind of shamed, but
it wasn’t very convenient to me to have more. I will now conclude
by saying I wish I was the old woman that lived in a shoe, and it
doesn’t matter how many I had I would have known fine what to do.
The end.
(_After further diversion._) It’s a fine party. I hope your potato
is mealy?
POLICEMAN. I never had a better tatie.
CINDERELLA. Don’t spare the skins.
POLICEMAN. But you’re eating nothing yourself.
CINDERELLA. I’m not hungry. And, of course, I’ll be expected to
take a bite at the ball.
(_This reminder of the ball spoils the_ POLICEMAN’S _enjoyment_.)
POLICEMAN. I wish—you wasn’t so sure of the ball.
GLADYS (_in defence_). Why shouldn’t she not be sure of it?
DELPHINE. Pourquoi, Monsieur?
CINDERELLA (_rather hotly_). Don’t say things like that here.
MARIE. Has Monsieur by chance seen God-mamma coming?
POLICEMAN. God-mamma?
CINDERELLA. That’s my Godmother; she brings my ball dress and a
carriage with four ponies.
GLADYS. Then away she goes to the ball—hooray—hooray!
CINDERELLA. It’s all perfectly simple once Godmother comes.
POLICEMAN (_with unconscious sarcasm_). I can see she’s important.
CINDERELLA (_with the dreadful sinking that comes to her at
times_). You think she’ll come, don’t you?
POLICEMAN. Cinderella, your hand’s burning—and in this cold room.
CINDERELLA. Say you think she’ll come.
POLICEMAN. I—well, I.... I....
GLADYS (_imploringly_). Say it, Mister!
DELPHINE (_begging_). Monsieur! Monsieur!
MARIE. If it is that you love me, Monsieur!
POLICEMAN (_in distress_). I question of there was ever before a
member of the Force in such a position. (_Yielding._) I expect
she’ll come.
(_This settles it in the opinion of the children, but their
eyes are too bright for such a late hour, and they are ordered
to bed. Our_ POLICEMAN _replaces them in their boxes_.)
CINDERELLA. One—two—three . . . couchy!
(_They disappear._)
POLICEMAN (_awkwardly and trying to hedge_). Of course this is an
out-of-the-way little street for a Godmother to find.
CINDERELLA. Yes, I’ve thought of that. I’d best go and hang about
outside; she would know me by my dress.
POLICEMAN (_hastily_). I wouldn’t do that. It’s a cold night. (_He
wanders about the room eyeing her sideways._) Balls is always late
things.
CINDERELLA. I’m none so sure. In war-time, you see, with the
streets so dark and the King so kind, it would be just like him to
begin early and close at ten instead of twelve. I must leave before
twelve. If I don’t, there’s terrible disasters happens.
POLICEMAN (_unable to follow this_). The ball might be put off
owing to the Prince of Wales being in France.
CINDERELLA. He catched the last boat. I’ll go out and watch.
POLICEMAN (_desperate_). Stay where you are, and—and I’ll have a
look for her.
CINDERELLA. You’re too kind.
POLICEMAN. Not at all. I must be stepping at any rate. If I can
lay hands on her I’ll march her here, though I have to put the
handcuffs on her.
GLADYS (_looking up_). I think I heard a knock!
(_The_ POLICEMAN _looks out, shakes his head, and finally
departs after a queer sort of handshake with_ MISS THING.)
CINDERELLA. He’s a nice man.
GLADYS. Have you known him long?
CINDERELLA (_thinking it out_). A longish time. He’s head of the
secret police; him and me used to play together as children down in
Badgery. His folks live in a magnificent castle, with two doors.
(_She becomes a little bewildered._) I’m all mixed up.
(_The children are soon asleep. She wanders aimlessly to
the door. The wall closes on the little room, and we now
see her standing in the street. Our_ POLICEMAN _returns and
flashes his lantern on her_.)
CINDERELLA. It’s you!
POLICEMAN. It’s me. But there’s no Godmother! There’s not a
soul.... No.... Good night, Cinderella. Go inside.
CINDERELLA (_doggedly_). Not me! I don’t feel the cold—not much.
And one has to take risks to get a Prince. The only thing I’m
feared about is my feet. If they was to swell I mightn’t be able
to get the slippers on, and he would have naught to do with me.
POLICEMAN. What slippers? If you won’t go back, I’ll stop here with
you.
CINDERELLA. No, I think there’s more chance of her coming if I’m
alone.
POLICEMAN. I’m very troubled about you.
CINDERELLA (_wistfully_). Do you think I’m just a liar? Maybe I am.
You see I’m all mixed up. I’m sore in need of somebody to help me
out.
POLICEMAN. I would do it if I could.
CINDERELLA. I’m sure. (_Anxiously_.) Are you good at riddles?
(_He shakes his head._)
There’s always a riddle before you can marry into a royal family.
POLICEMAN (_with increased gloom_). The whole thing seems to be
most terrible difficult.
CINDERELLA. Yes.... Good night.
POLICEMAN. You won’t let me stay with you?
CINDERELLA. No.
(_He puts his lantern on the ground beside her._)
What’s that for?
POLICEMAN (_humbly_). It’s just a sort of guard for you. (_He takes
off his muffler and puts it several times round her neck._)
CINDERELLA. Nice!
POLICEMAN. Good luck!
(_She finds it easiest just to nod in reply._)