POLICEMAN (proposing a toast). The King!
CINDERELLA (rather consciously). And the Prince of Wales.
GLADYS. And father.
POLICEMAN. The King, the Prince of Wales, and father.
(The toast is drunk, dipped and eaten with acclamation. GLADYS, uninvited, recites ‘The Mariners of England.’ MARIE-THERESE follows (without waiting for the end) with the Marseillaise, and GRETCHEN puts out her tongue at both. Our POLICEMAN having intimated that he desires to propose another toast of a more lengthy character, the children are lifted down and placed in their nightgowns at the table.)
POLICEMAN (suddenly becoming nervous). I have now the honour to propose absent friends.
GLADYS (with an inspiration to which MARIE-THERESE bows elegantly). Vive la France!
POLICEMAN. I mean our friends at the Front. And they have their children, too. Your boxes we know about, but I daresay there’s many similar and even queerer places, where the children, the smallest of our allies, are sleeping this night within the sound of shells.
MARIE. La petite Belgique. La pauvre enfant!