POLICEMAN. Now, no sauce.
(He produces his note book. He is about to make a powerful beginning when he finds her eyes regarding the middle of his person.)
Now then, what are you staring at?
CINDERELLA. (hotly). That’s a poor way to polish a belt. If I was a officer I would think shame of having my belt in that condition.
POLICEMAN. (undoubtedly affected by her homeliness though unconscious of it). It’s easy to speak; it’s a miserable polish I admit, but mind you, I’m pretty done when my job’s over; and I have the polishing to do myself.
CINDERELLA. You have no woman person?
POLICEMAN. Not me.
CINDERELLA (with passionate arms). If I had that belt for half an hour!
POLICEMAN. What would you use?
CINDERELLA. Spit.