"FAMILIAR QUOTATIONS."
Paint the letters in gold and some bright color. Attach a bit of twine inside the cover, midway, on the hinge side, to enable the person who engineers the book to close it without being seen.
A large table with lamp and books, and one or two chairs, will suffice for stage furniture.
The book slowly opens, revealing Preface. She steps forward, closely followed by Index, who remains right of and a little behind her.
Preface.
The Preface always is allowed
First to address the expectant crowd;
Whether my task's a pleasant one
I shall know better—when 'tis done.
(She points to the book, Index copying all her movements.)
From out these covers, blithely tripping,
Familiar friends will soon be slipping;
They're tired of hiding in a book,
Where you must go for them to look.
To-night they mean to play before you
Some trifles that we hope won't bore you;
Indeed, we ask for each quotation
Only its meed of approbation.
[She starts to return to the book, but is intercepted by Index, who intimates that he has something to say. Preface takes his hand, and leads him to the footlights.]
Index (first looking admiringly at Preface).
As she is first, so last am I,
The Index that can tell you why
And when and wherefore this was writ,
And who the author is of it;
When a quotation doth appear
I'll do my best to make it clear.
[He bows to the audience, and escorts Preface to the book, opens the cover, and watches it close upon her, kisses his hand after her, and retires dejectedly behind the volume. The piano orchestra strikes up "The Flowers that Bloom in the Spring.">[
Index (popping out his head from back of book). Gilbert and Sullivan.
[Violet, Daffodil, and Lily-of-the-Valley emerge, trip to the front, group themselves harmoniously, and dance, ending with a sweeping courtesy. Exeunt.]
The Audience. Of course that was "The Flowers that bloom in the Spring."
Index. Second quotation. Author, Dryden.
[A lady opens the book and walks with dignity across the stage. Draws a chair to front, seats herself, and slowly waves her fan. Raises a lorgnette to her eyes, rises, and turns gracefully to the left. At this moment a tin mouse on wheels is sent whizzing toward her from behind the curtain. She jumps on the chair, gathering her skirts about her, and screaming. A foppish youth comes from the book in affected excitement, and attacks the mouse with his umbrella. While the conflict goes on, the lady covers her face with her hands, now and then stealing a glance at her champion. The mouse is finally slain. The gentleman presents it, kneeling. She turns away at first, but presently dismounts and accepts the hero's arm. They go off together, he waving the mouse at the audience. The audience, after several mistakes, guesses, "None but the brave deserve the fair."]
Index (who has meanwhile frequently bobbed out from behind the book, now cries gleefully). Third quotation. A proverb! A proverb!
[The First and Second Pitchers enter, each holding a ball. They strike all sorts of baseball attitudes as they advance to footlights, then station themselves on opposite sides of stage. They throw the balls until some one guesses, "Little pitchers have big ears." Exeunt.]