Belinda: An April Folly in Three Acts

by A. A. Milne

Delia (excitedly). Go on!

Belinda. Well— (Looking round the room.) Shall we have the lights down a little?

Delia. Go on, mummy.

Belinda. Well, Mr. Robinson is–(impressively)–is not quite the Robinson he appears to be.

Delia. Yes?

Belinda. In fact, child, he is— Darling, hadn't you better come and hold your mother's hand?

Delia (struggling with some emotion and placing her hand on Belinda's arm, who playfully smacks it). Go on.

Belinda. Well, Mr. Robinson is a–sort of relation of yours; in fact–(playing with her rings and looking down coyly)–he is your–father. (She looks up at Delia to see how the news is being received.) (Delia gives a happy laugh.)

Dear one, this is not a matter for mirth.

Delia. Darling, it is lovely, isn't it? (Sliding down to the seat of the Chesterfield next to Belinda, who moves along to make room for her.) I am laughing because I am so happy.