[The curtains falls to denote the passage of a few months. When it rises two people are discovered at supper—a Woman (the same one) and a Man (a different one).
She. You eat heartily, my pomegranate.
He. Who would not eat heartily on the day of his espousal to such a maid as thee.
She. That reminds me. I knew there was something I wanted to tell you, but the wedding put it quite out of my head.
He. Truly, what shouldst thou think of at thy espousal but thy spouse?
She. Do you minding saying “you”? None of the others have said “thou.”
He. As you will, beloved. But of what “others” speakest thou?
She. Well, that’s really the point. The fact is, my tangerine, you are not my first spouse—at least, not quite.
He. How so? What delicious salad!
She. Have some more. No, you are—let me see—one, two, three, four—yes, you are the first but six. It’s rather a curious story; I wonder if it will bore you?