BENGT.
[Making eyes at MARGIT.] Yes, I have mine, that is sure enough.
Ha, ha, ha!
MARGIT.
[To herself, quivering.] To have to suffer all this shame and scorn! No, no; now to essay the last remedy.
BENGT.
What ails you? Meseems you look so pale.
MARGIT.
'Twill soon pass over. [Turns to the GUESTS.] Did I say e'en now that I had forgotten all my tales? I bethink me now that I remember one.
BENGT.
Good, good, my wife! Come, let us hear it.