Coq. Of course! It’s all my own.
G. King. Oh, game you’re making!
Coq. Oh, not at all, Sir, I don’t go hay raking.
G. King. A kiss I’ll have!
(Runs after her, catches her, and is going to kiss her, when loud rap is heard at door.)
Coq. Mamma!
G. King. I’d like to choke her.
Coq. Dear me! She’s awful with the kitchen poker!
You’d better hide, Sir.
G. King. Where? (Runs to cupboard.)