NILLA. Which the old man has left—
NISSE. For the elf. He's afraid of him!
NILLA. Now I know! We'll eat up the porridge so—
NISSE. The elf will get after him—
NILLA. And he can raise the mischief when he gets angry. [They are over by the dish now, and eating.]
NISSE. Oh, move along and make room for me!
NILLA. Hush! It creaks in the stairs.
NISSE. Now I see the bottom of the dish; there's the lump of butter!
NILLA. Help me with this corner.
NISSE. Ah!—now we'll wipe our mouths and run. [They scurry off left.]