Spring. On the lawn?
Clown. Yes. Then the rabbits come. They pop down the hole in the crust to eat the lettuce. When the pie is full of rabbits, you run from behind a tree, cover the hole in the crust, and then with the dish in your arms, you dash into the kitchen,—pie in the oven, oven hot, fire bright—and, here we are!
Columbine. Don’t you believe him.
Pantaloon. [To Spring.] Why did you come back?
Spring. The farmers said I made the buds come out too soon. I only stroked the trees and the little sticky buds peeped out to kiss my hand. The gardeners were angry because, where I stepped, the flowers came out too soon, they said, and then—
Columbine. Never mind, dear. We are all glad to see you.
Pantaloon. And then?
Spring. Then East Wind came and Snow and Jack Frost, and they nipped my flowers, and hurt my trees, and made my lambs shiver behind the hedges. The goblins who sing in the fire hobs sang and sang till the people turned their backs on me and crouched up to the fire again and began to tell ghost stories.
Columbine. But you must go back now, and fight Jack Frost and scare Winter away. You have had your breakfast, dear, and now like all the world, you must do your work. Yes, dear, you must keep on working till summer wakes up.