Mrs. B. Look out for your fingers!
Dorothy. (cheerfully). O I’m a fine amateur carpenter! This lid was nailed on to stay, though! (Removes lid from box.)
Dorothy. (surprised). Well, I never! Mother, mother, put down that old mending and look here! (Takes mending from her mother.) Did you ever see such a lovely box!
Mrs. B. (also surprised). What a beautiful box! Is it really meant for us?
Dorothy. Here’s the label all right. Mrs. David Brown, and that’s you! Just see the holly! Isn’t it Christmas-y? (Places sprig of holly in her hair.)
Mrs. B. (hesitating). Hadn’t we better wait till your father and Rob come?
Dorothy. (reproachfully). Wait? O mother what outrageous cruelty! Why my fingers just itch to open those packages. There don’t seem to be any labels, but we can guess at them. You take the first.
Mrs. B. (takes parcel, unwraps and displays white embroidered waist). Isn’t that exquisite?
Dorothy. (enthusiastically). Why, mother, you’ll look as pretty as a picture in it. Stand up and let’s see how it looks on you. (Holds up waist upon her mother.)
Dorothy. Mother, you just look sweet. And now for my turn. (Takes parcels, unwraps, and holds up dress with flowered sash.)