GRANDFATHER. My hand shook so—I'm sorry—so sorry!
WIFE. That won't mend the plate!
MAN. Nor buy a new one!
WIFE (to her husband). He should eat from wooden dishes.
MAN (nodding, pointing to a wooden dish). Let him have that one for his meat.
[The Grandfather sighs sadly. The Wife gets a wooden dish and fills it with meat. Little Hans leaves the table and plays with his blocks on the floor.]
WIFE (handing the wooden dish to the Grandfather). Here's one you can't break. Go now and sit in the corner behind the oven. You shall eat there hereafter. I cannot have my tablecloths soiled—that I cannot!
[The Grandfather takes his wooden plate and goes to the seat in the corner behind the oven. His eyes are filled with tears.]
MAN. Come, little Hans, and finish your dinner.
WIFE (turning to Hans). Bless me! What are you making, child?