Christopher. Soup!
Philip. Ice cream! I want ice cream!
Lizzie. Sh!
Elaine. My mamma don't let my brothers behave so at the table.
Philip. Neither don't we, 'cept our birthdays.
[Moles reënters with a tray and plates.
Christopher. What is it?
Philip. [Screams.] Eeh! Ice cream! It's ice cream!
Lizzie. Sh!
Philip. Go ahead, dish it out!