Rastus (aside).—That’s us, Abner, cultured an’ intelligent!
Inventor.—My invention is the result of years of study, experimentation and research and is destined to fill a long felt want.
Tom (aside).—That’s what they say about every new rat-trap, egg-beater, dictionary, or patent hairpin.
Inventor.—One of the secrets of the psychological unrest which characterizes the human race is that each person desires, in short, to be someone else. The poor man wishes he were rich, the rich man would like to be a boy again, the young would like to be old, and the old young. Now by means of my remarkable invention, these wishes may be gratified either permanently or temporarily.
Edith.—You really mean that any one can be transformed into somebody else by stepping into the wishing box?
Inventor.—Precisely, my dear young lady, and I desire to offer as a Christmas gift to this pleasant little assembly the transformation which each one desires.
Abner.—Well, I wish (clapping his hand to his mouth) I nearly put my foot into it that time!
Tom.—Your mouth?
Edith.—Aunt Susan, you make the first wish.
Rastus.—Wish for a watermelon, or a possum, or fried chicken.