CINDERELLA (winking). That’s telling! (Importantly.) Nurse, did you ever have a love-letter?
PROBATIONER (gaily). Not I! Don’t want to; horrid little explosives! But have you—has he—?
CINDERELLA (becoming larger). In my poor opinion, if it’s not a love-letter, it’s a very near thing.
PROBATIONER. If I could see the darling little detestable?
CINDERELLA. Oh no, oh no, no, no, no! But I’ll tell you one thing as is in it. This—‘There are thirty-four policemen sitting in this room, but I would rather have you, my dear.’ What do you think? That’s a fine bit at the end.
PROBATIONER (sparkling). Lovely! Go on, Cinderella, fling reticence to the winds.
CINDERELLA (doing so). Unless I am—very far out—in my judgment of men—that man is infatuate about me!
PROBATIONER (clapping her hands). The delicious scoundrel! Cinderella, be merciless to him! Knife him, you dear! Give him beans!
CINDERELLA (gurgling). I ill-treats him most terrible!
PROBATIONER. That’s the way! down with lovers, slit them to ribbons, stamp on them.