GOODY. Is she coming?
WICKED UNCLE (looking). Yes, she is just within the gate. She rides in an old cart drawn by an old horse—quite good enough for a witch.
[Enter the KING with servants and GUARDS. Behind them is the cart. In the cart sits ELIZA. She is spinning and weaving, never once looking up.]
GOODY. How pale she is! Bless me! She is spinning and weaving.
WICKED UNCLE. It is the eleventh coat and it will be the last.
GOODY. How she hurries to finish it!
[The cart stops.]
KING (to Eliza). Once again I ask you,—Are you a witch?
(Eliza shakes her head.)
Then give up the coats. They are of no use to any one.