ROOS. Yes, and hatters, ’twas a much _felt_ question. At one I had some lunch, and—indigestion. At two I had to meet a deputation— “Was it, or was it not, good for the nation That folks should be allowed beef with their mustard,” It was a serious matter.
ROOS. Oh, not at all, I said—If they could get it. At two ’twas going on.
ROOS. Well, let it! Till eight—three meetings; a foundation stone. Then dressed the King for dinner; had my own. Came here to pop the question—Will you wed? I must get back to put the King to bed. Say yes or no.
COQ. She may be angry. Get beneath the table. Please. To oblige me. (_loud rap._)
ROOS. Well, if I am able. (_Gets under table._) I must confess I feel how ill you treat me.
COQ. To-morrow, by the haunted tree you’ll meet me.
(_Goes to door and open it. Enter G. KING. She curtseys. He chucks her under chin._)
GNOME KING. Well, lass, your pretty face I’ve long been missing. You’ve got a kiss I hope—
COQ. (_Coquettishly._) It’s always kissing. Just like a man! He always _misses_ kisses.
G. KING. It’s very hard a man can’t kiss his _misses_. I’ll have your little head chopped off, Miss! Pray Don’t make me angry! One! two! three! Away!
COQ. Well, if you must, you must then; Take it, There!
(_She turns back of head to him as he is about to kiss her._)
COQ. Oh, not at all, Sir, _I_ don’t go _hay raking_.
(_Runs after her, catches her, and is going to kiss her, when loud rap is heard at door._)
COQ. Dear me! She’s awful with the kitchen poker! You’d better hide, Sir.
COQ. No, no! (_he runs towards barrel._) Not there! (_He runs to table._) I have it! Here! pretend to be a chair.
(_She takes cover off chair and puts it over him with arms extended so that he looks like a chair._)
There! Now you’re safe, you need’nt now be daunted. Meet me to-morrow by the tree that’s haunted.
(_Goes to door, opens it and looks out._)
What! no one here? how strange! who can it be? Perhaps I’d better go outside and see.
(_Goes outside. The “FAIRY OF THE FOREST” steps in and closes door._)
FAIRY. Ah, Coquettina! oh, you naughty child! In spite of all I’ve said, you _will_ be wild. All right, Miss, I have such a rod in pickle! But first these gentlemen in here I’ll tickle.
(_Blows out candle. Stage darkens. She goes to cupboard and raps gently, then to barrel, then to table, then to chair, and steps to back of stage. All four come out and grope in the dark, avoiding each other. They speak in whispers._)