(Children scramble for them and pick them up. Some of them pretend to taste, and make wry faces.)
Simon. They be n’t good a bit! I don’t like ’em!
Several Others. Nor I!
Dingty. The old man said that they made good pie. They are not good raw. It’s well it’s so, Or we wouldn’t get any pie, I know.
Mother Goose (to audience). I hope they’ve amused you, each lassie and lad. Though they’re not very good, still, they’re not very bad! Jest a troublesome flock, like your own, I dare say, Up to some mischief the most of the day; Yet you wouldn’t spare one, and neither would I. Now I must go make them that gombobble pie. Come again, folks, to see us. Come often, now do! Good-bye. Hey? Good wishes? The same, friends, to you!
All. Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye, Mother’s going to make us gombobble pie! When the pie is baked, we will all begin to sing. Maybe we a piece or two to you, good folks, will bring.
(As curtain goes down, they shout.)
Hi, hi, hi! Gombobble pie! We’re a jolly flock of geese! Hi, hi, hi!
CURTAIN