ACT I.
Scene.
—The Meadow. Music. A birthday party in honor of Little Miss Muffet, who at the rise of the curtain is discovered on her tuffet, centre. Left, a number of baskets. Dance of the Six Little Dairymaids.
Muffet (when the dance is done). That was a beautiful dance, dear friends. Thank you ever so much. I notice that the four-o’clocks at my feet are opening, so that it is time for our guests to arrive.
First Dairymaid. How fortunate that there are no ugly black clouds in the sky!
Muffet. Please, please do not use the word “black” any oftener than you cannot help. It reminds me of that horrible, crawly, eight-legged creature who lives in a—ugh!—in a web!
Second Dairymaid. Pardon me, Miss Muffet, but is it true that the Sp—— I mean that this creature dropped down from a tree the other day and asked you to be his Queen, and live in his—den?
Muffet. Yes, yes, of course, it’s true; but change the subject, I beg of you. (Enter, left, Fly; right, Cricket. They advance toward Muffet, glowering angrily at each other. Each kisses a hand of Muffet at the same moment.) I am so glad you could come, both of you.
Fly (pointing at Cricket). What is he here for, I’d like to know?
Cricket (pointing at Fly). And what is he here for, pray?
Muffet. O, I do hope you won’t quarrel—to-day, especially. I think a great deal of you both; don’t I, Dairymaids?
Dairymaids. Of course you do!
Fly. That’s the worst news I could possibly hear, Miss Muffet. Do you mean to say that you like that plain black fellow better than you do me? Why, just look at my wings! I really think you might choose me as your King of the Meadow!
Cricket. How can you listen to such talk, Miss Muffet? That Fly is nothing but a vain popinjay, strutting and buzzing around! He can’t sing. I’m the right kind of King for you, every time!
Fly (angrily). Bzzzzzzzzzz!
Cricket. There! Did you ever hear a more disagreeable racket?
Muffet (covering her face with her hands). O, what shall I do? My birthday party is being spoiled!
Dairymaids (covering their faces with their hands). Yes, her party is being spoiled!
(Cricket and Fly disdainfully fold their arms, and turn their backs on each other. Music. Enter, right, in a dignified manner, Wise Mole and Three Field-Mice. They bow low before Miss Muffet.)
Muffet. How glad I am to see you, Wise Mole, and you dear counsellors, the Field-Mice! What should I do without you all to guide me when I get into trouble?
Mole. You have evidently been weeping, my dear Queen—and on your birthday, too! What dreadful thing can have happened? (Looking about uneasily.) Surely you have not seen the black Spider again?
Muffet and Dairymaids. O, no, no, no!
Mole. Tell me about it, whatever it may be.
Muffet. Why, I cannot make up my mind which I would prefer for a husband—the Cricket, or the Fly. One has a beautiful song; the other, beautiful wings. They are both angry, and insist on knowing which one shall sit upon the tuffet with me.
(Mole and Field-Mice put their heads together.)
Mole. It is our opinion that the tuffet is not big enough for more than one person, so that neither the Fly nor the Cricket can claim your hand. Come, be friends! (Putting the hands of the rivals together. They shake hands not very cordially, while the Dairymaids applaud.)
Muffet. O goody—goody! Now we can go on in peace! (Music. Enter, left, Rabbits; right, Fairies. Muffet stands up on her tuffet, and kisses her hands to the newcomers. Cricket, right; Fly, left; Mole and Field-Mice right of stage.) Welcome to my meadow and my party!
Dairymaids. Welcome! Welcome!
(Music. Dance of the Fairies and the Rabbits. The Dairymaids stand in a row at rear, clapping time.)
Muffet (seating herself when the dance is over). Sit down, my dear guests, and have some of the curds and whey which the dear Dairymaids have provided.
(Music. The Dairymaids take out from their baskets, left, spoons, bowls, and jars of curds and whey. They serve Muffet first. Rumbling, thundering music. Spider lets himself down directly over Muffet by means of his “thread” (rope), and lands at side of Queen, whom he tries to embrace. Muffet and all her guests jump up, screaming. Stampede, left. Spider, quite deserted, seats himself on the tuffet. Low music.)
Spider (untying the “thread” from his body. The thread is drawn upward, out of sight). I’ll have her yet! She’s a pretty little thing. I’m bound that she shall sit in my parlor and spin for me all day long! My web shall be the largest and silkiest in the wide world. I have no time for spinning. I would much rather be eating nice fat flies. I’m hungry for one at this moment. Ah, but I saw a dainty specimen standing at Miss Muffet’s side. Burrrrrooooo! I’m furious to think that the Queen and her guests have escaped me! (Fairies peep out, laughing.) Who dares to laugh at Me, the King of the Web? (The Fairies dart out on stage, right.)
First Elf. You’re it for tag, Spider, old boy!
(Exeunt Fairies, right. Spider gives chase. Enter cautiously, left, Muffet carrying her bowl of curds and whey, and Fly. Muffet seats herself on her tuffet, looking about fearfully.)
Muffet. Has the horrid thing really gone away?
Fly (protectingly, but stammering with fright). Of c-c-course, Miss Muffet, I-I will pro-protect you. (He tries to sit on the tuffet.)
Muffet. No, my dear Fly, there is room for only one on the tuffet, you know.
Fly. How can I show my great love for you, my Queen of the Meadow?
Muffet. By slaying the wicked black Spider, who has devoured so many of your relatives, to say nothing of dragon-flies, caterpillars, and—crickets.
Fly (drawing his dagger). I’ll give battle to the monster at once! I’ll slay him single-handed, and wrap him up like a mummy in his own web! Farewell! (Music. Fly kisses the hand of Muffet. Exit Fly, right. Muffet goes on eating her curds and whey.)
CURTAIN.