ACT II.
SCENE 1.
—A room in Giant Greatbig’s Castle. Rear, left, window; fireplace, with lighted candle on the mantel, centre; door, right, rear. Bare wooden floor. Left, a big cradle, containing the Giant’s baby. A rocking-chair next the cradle. Right, a rude table, on it a drinking-mug as large as a bucket. Smoke-stained walls. At the rise, a ring-around dance is going on to lively music. Those dancing are the Giant, the Bear, the Dear Dragon, the Obliging Ogre, and the four lost children. The Motherly Giantess stands at right, beating time with a potato-masher on a chopping-bowl. The door bursts open. Enter the Three Happy Little Giants in great excitement.
First H. L. G. O papa! papa!
(Dance and music cease.)
Giant. What is it, my child?
First H. L. G. Why, we peeped over the edge of the bean-stalk cliff, and Jack chopped the stalk down, and it fell on his leg, and he lies there groaning!
Giantess. The poor fellow! Hub, what are you going to do about it?
Giant. We must help the lad. Boys, get the rope ladder. (They do so.)
Obliging Ogre. Here, give it to me. What is an ogre for if not to be obliging? Come on, everybody! [Exeunt all but Giantess.
Enter through window, left, the Friendly Witch and her broomstick.
Witch. Good-evening, Mrs. Greatbig.
Giantess. Goo—good-evening! How you startled me! What have you been doing to-day?
Witch. O, sweeping cobwebs off the sky, so that it will be bright and pleasant for picnics to-morrow. I cleaned soot out of chimneys to save work for the poor little sweep-boys, and I gave old men and women diamond spectacles with gold rims so that they can read without hurting their eyes.
Giantess. You are a good soul indeed.
Witch. O, no, I’m not. I’m just reporting progress. And I dropped chocolates, and caps with lavender ribbons, through the open windows of Old Ladies’ Homes.
Giantess. Lovely! lovely!
Witch. But the best fun of all was giving a breath of air to fifty poor women who work in city factories. I rode them on my broomstick three or four hundred miles or so. One dear thing cracked her funny-bone on the north star. I didn’t mean to brush by so closely. (Enter the Ogre and the Giant, supporting Jack, whose leg is neatly bandaged. The other people follow. Jack is placed in the rocking-chair, by the fire.) I can make his leg well, quick as a wink! (She touches Jack’s leg with her broomstick. He pulls off the bandage, and capers about delightedly.)
Jack. Thank you, dear Witch. Giant Greatbig, I am more sorry than I can say that I have hounded you all this time. I never suspected that you were a good giant. You know the kind of man your uncle used to be.
Giant (shaking hands with Jack). Well, now we are good friends, aren’t we, hey?
Jack. You know I’m an orphan. I wonder if you would care to adopt me.
Giant. A very good plan. I know you will set a good example to my boys, and make yourself useful generally.
Giantess (hugging Jack). You dear child, you! To think that an hour ago I dreaded to hear your very name spoken! My! How muscular you are!
Jack. Dear Mr. and Mrs. Greatbig, I would like to change my name. Hereafter I wish to be known as Jack the Giant-Lover.
(All cheer and clap their hands. The Dear Dragon, after embracing Jack, goes to centre and recites):
O, once I was a Nawful Thing—a dread to man and child.
I snorted and cavorted till the villagers went wild.
I ate a church and steeple and three hundred pews of people,
And then I waved my crinkly tail, and bellowed, bowed, and smiled.
Of course I was a favorite when July Fourth came round,
For my firework and my smoke-murk were the finest to be found.
Why, people paid a dollar just to hear my mighty holler,
And when I breathed out ten-foot flames they fell flat on the ground.
To shorten my biography, I’ll whisper what befell.
A fire-brigade it was that made me anything but well.
They played the hose, and soaked me, and with their wall-hooks poked me,
Until I crawled away more wet and sore than I can tell.
I took a cold, and nearly died. When I grew strong again,
I could no more breathe flames, and roar from my grim mountain den.
I had no great desire, sir, to scorch the fields with fire, sir,
Or to make my meals of churches filled with chubby village men.
(Loud rapping heard.)
Giant. Come in!
Enter the Honest Robber.
Robber. Hollo, everybody. Having a tea-party, Mrs. Giantess?
Giantess. O, no. Hub picked up some nice lost children in the wood, and here they are. Children, this is Rob Highway, the Honest Robber.
(The Honest Robber shakes hands with all the children.)
Giant (drinking from his mug). Well, Rob, my boy, how have you been making yourself useful to-day?
Robber. This morning I went to the dog-pound with a furniture-van, and filled it cram-full of lost puppies—cram-full, children. You never heard such a growling and yowling in your life. I drove slowly, and whenever I heard a child crying: “I want my dog! He’s lost!” I’d say, “Describe him,” and it wasn’t long, generally, before the dog and his little master were in each other’s arms.
Kit. Hurrah for you, old man!
Joscelin. What else did you do?
Robber. This evening I have chased seventeen burglars and taken away their stolen goods from them.
Maysie. Did you keep the things yourself?
Robber. Fie, fie, no! I’m an Honest Robber. I restored the property, and made a hundred dollars reward.
(A distant clock strikes twelve, and the Giant’s alarm-clock goes off in his pocket. He takes it out hurriedly.)
Giant. Yes, I am correct. Gracious, children, it’s very late for you to be up! My dear, shouldn’t they go to sleep at once?
Giantess. Yes, by all means, hub. I’ve been so excited I forgot all about such a thing as bedtime. [Exit, left.
Giant. I’ll telephone for the Sand Man. (Goes to the telephone at the right of the fireplace.) 128 Seashore, please. Hollo, Sandy. Take the first gust of wind for Castle Greatbig. He’ll be here in a moment, children.
(Enter Giantess, left, with green boughs.)
Giantess (strewing boughs on the floor). Sit right down, chickabiddies. (The Lorings and Staceys and the children of the Giant sit down together.)
Giant. Good-night, children. My helpers and I have an important piece of work to do between now and sunrise. We are going to carry a dozen or two tenement-houses from the city into the country, and set them down gently in green fields.
Gillian. Won’t the children be surprised and happy when they wake up!
Bear. And in place of the houses we shall lay out a beautiful playground for the poor children who are left in the neighborhood. Good night, all!
Children. Good night!
Jack. Good night!
Ogre. Good night!
Children. Good night!
Dragon. Happy dreams!
Children. Good night!
Robber. Good night!
Children. Good night!
Witch. Good night! [Exit by the window.
Giant. I’ll be back in the morning to see that you get home safely. Good night!
Children and Giantess. Good night!
Enter Sand Man, softly, by door, right, without rapping. Giantess nods to him, then blows out all but one candle. The Sand Man waves his hand. The children sink back on the boughs. He then casts a little imaginary sand from his bag into each eye, and goes out as softly as he came. Giantess takes up her baby from the cradle, left. It squalls. She hushes it, seats herself in a rocking-chair, centre, and sings this lullaby:
B-a, ba, b-o, bo,
B-i, bi, baby bye.
Mamma’s little Giant is tired of all his play,
Tired of all the mischief he has done to-day;
Tired of pulling pine-trees clear up by the roots.
Go to sleep, my Giant, my six-foot Tootsy-Woots!
(Children snore.)
CURTAIN.