(Greenies rise and begin to tiptoe about, peering in every nook and corner, and just as intently into the air, or the middle of the floor.)

Alice—Well, I shan’t watch for him. He doesn’t like it.

Greenies—Then you won’t get no presents, nor nothing, not never.

Frank—What grammar.

Alice—It’s Topsy Turvy language, I suppose. But how about the presents?

Ecila—Why—(turns to Marg, who has been sitting demurely, without a word, since entering, as have Dad and Mom.) Marg, you are the biggest. You tell the little girl about the presents.

Marg—Why, old Clanty Sauce always brings a whole lot of them.

Frank—Sure. On his back.

Marg—Why, no. In a big box in his arms. And if you see him, he’ll give you some.

Derf—And if you don’t see him, you won’t det none, not nany tall.