Pete. Hi! Debbel's in de pail! Whar's breakfass?
Enter Solon and Dido with coffee-pot, dishes, &c., R. U. E.
Dido. Bless'ee, Missey Zoe, here it be. Dere's a dish of pen-pans—jess taste, Mas'r George—and here's fried bananas; smell 'em, do, sa glosh.
Pete. Hole yer tongue, Dido. Whar's de coffee? [Pours out.] If it don't stain de cup, your wicked ole life's in danger, sure! dat right! black as nigger; clar as ice. You may drink dat, Mas'r George. [Looks off.] Yah! here's Mas'r Sunnyside, and Missey Dora, jist drov up. Some of you niggers run and hole de hosses; and take dis, Dido. [Gives her coffee-pot to hold, and hobbles off, followed by Solon and Dido, R. U. E.]
Enter Sunnyside and Dora, R. U. E.
Sunny. Good day, ma'am. [Shakes hands with George.] I see we are just in time for breakfast. [Sits, R.]
Dora. O, none for me; I never eat. [Sits, R. C.]
George. [Aside.] They do not notice Zoe.—[Aloud.] You don't see Zoe, Mr. Sunnyside.
Sunny. Ah! Zoe, girl; are you there?
Dora. Take my shawl, Zoe. [Zoe helps her.] What a good creature she is.