Jack: Put your whole mind to it, then. Now just take this chair. I’m the doctor. And what size do you take?
Betty: Two’s and a half.
Jack: By jove, but you have mighty dainty little feet!
Betty [pleased]: Do you think so?
Jack: I don’t think, I know. It will be no feat to fit them. [Takes a box from table and brings it over.] Here is just the very thing you want. [Takes out slippers.] Aren’t they classy? Let me try one on.
Betty [kicks off pump]: They are rather nice, aren’t they? [Puts foot on footrest. Jack tries to put slipper on, but fails.]
Jack: These are too small, Betty. You’ll need a half size larger. [He starts to go towards table L.]
Betty [indignantly]: They’re not a bit too small. I never take a larger size than that. [Jerks slipper on.] There, you see I can get it on. I think you’re real mean, trying to make out that I have big feet.
Jack: Upon my soul. [Hits sole of boot.] Betty, I’m not doing anything of the kind. You have the dearest little feet I have ever seen, but you can see for yourself that that slipper is too tight. I’d hate to have you get a horrid corn for somebody to trample on and—