July.
(Behind the scenes.)
Blue flags, yellow flags, all freckled,
Which will you take? Yellow, blue, speckled!
Take which you will, speckled, blue, yellow,
Each in its way has not a fellow.
(Enter July, a basket of many-colored irises swung upon his shoulders, a bunch of ripe grass in one hand, and a plate piled full of peaches balanced upon the other. He steals up to June, and tickles her with the grass. She wakes.)
June.
What, here already?
July.