DELPHINE (proudly). Me!
POLICEMAN. So here’s to absent friends—
GLADYS (with another inspiration). Absent boxes!
POLICEMAN. Absent boxes! And there’s a party we know about who would like uncommon to have the charge of the lot of them—(looking at Cinderella). And I couples the toast with the name of the said party.
CINDERELLA (giving a pennyworth for nothing). Kind friends, it would be pretending of me not to let on that I know I am the party referred to by the last speaker—in far too flattersome words. When I look about me and see just four boxes I am a kind of shamed, but it wasn’t very convenient to me to have more. I will now conclude by saying I wish I was the old woman that lived in a shoe, and it doesn’t matter how many I had I would have known fine what to do. The end.
(After further diversion.) It’s a fine party. I hope your potato is mealy?
POLICEMAN. I never had a better tatie.
CINDERELLA. Don’t spare the skins.
POLICEMAN. But you’re eating nothing yourself.