FATHER CHRISTMAS (to the HUBBARDS). You will dance, won't you?
MRS. HUBBARD. I think not just at first, thank you.
GOLDILOCKS (to CRUSOE). Come along!
CRUSOE. I am a little out of practice—er—but if you don't mind—er—(He comes.)
BLUEBEARD (to RIDING HOOD). May I have the pleasure?
MRS. HUBBARD (to RIDING HOOD). Be careful, dear; he has a very bad reputation.
RIDING HOOD (to BLUEBEARD). You don't eat people, do you?
BLUEBEARD (pained by this injustice). Never!
RIDING HOOD. Oh then, I don't mind. But I do hate being eaten.
Now we can't possibly describe the whole dance to you, for in every corner of the big ballroom couples were revolving and sliding, and making small talk with each other. So we will just take two specimen conversations.