ERIC. You mustn't step on the sun, Thyra. That's a sin!
THYRA. I didn't mean to step on him. I just wanted to have him. Now see—I have him in my arms, and I can pat him.—Look! Now he's kissing me right on the mouth.
The PLAYMATE enters from behind one of the casks; he wears a white garment reaching below his knees, and a blue scarf around the waist; on his feet are sandals; he is blond, and when he appears the cellar grows lighter.
ERIC. [Goes to meet him and shakes hands with him] Hello, little boy!—Come and shake hands, Thyra!—What's your name, boy? You must tell us to-day.
The PLAYMATE merely looks at him.
THYRA. You shouldn't be so forward, Eric, for it makes him bashful.—But tell me, little boy, who is your papa?
PLAYMATE. Don't be so curious. When you know me better, you'll learn all those things.—But let us play now.
THYRA. Yes, but nothing instructive, for that is so tedious. I want it just to be nice.
PLAYMATE. [Smiling] Shall I tell a story?
THYRA. Yes, but not out of the Bible, for all those we know by heart——