DAUGHTER (eagerly). Oh, go on!
MOTHER. Yes, go on, Sir.
TALKER. We were lying on our backs thus, Madame, when we heard the nightingale. "Duke," says I, "it is early yet for the nightingale." His Flutiness removes his cap from his face, takes a squint at the sun, and says "Monstrous early, good Master Johannes," and claps his cap back again. "What says you, Fiddler," says I, "in this matter of nightingales? Is it possible," says I; "the sun being where it is, and nightingales being what they are—to wit, nightingales?" "It's not a nightingale," says Fiddler dreamily, "it's a girl." "Then," says I, jumping up, "it is a girl we want. She must put the red feather in her cap, and come her ways with us." (With a bow) Madame, your humble servant.
DAUGHTER. Oh, Mother, you will let me go, won't you? I must, I must! He is quite right. I'm caged here. Oh, you will let me see something of the world before I grow old!
FIDDLER (suddenly). Yes, let her come. If she feels like that, she ought to come.
SINGER (with a very winning smile). We will take great care of her, Madame, as if she were our own sister.
MOTHER (surprisingly to JOHANNES). What do you think of cider as a drink, Master Johannes?
TALKER (who had not expected it, but is always ready). Cider—ah, there's a drink! Oh, I can talk to you about cider, glum body as I am by nature, having been as it were taciturn from birth. Yet of cider I could talk you—
MOTHER. Ours is considered very good cider. (To her daughter) Take them, child, and give them such refreshment as they want. They have deserved it for their entertainment.
DAUGHTER. Why, of course, Mother. Come this way please.