DOT. [With a glance at ROSE] Can we have this room for the mouldy rehearsal, Mother?
LADY CHESHIRE. Yes, dear, you can air it here.
Holding the door open for ROSE she follows her out. And DOT, with a book of "Caste" in her hand, arranges the room according to a diagram.
DOT. Chair—chair—table—chair—Dash! Table—piano—fire—window! [Producing a pocket comb] Comb for Eccles. Cradle?—Cradle—[She viciously dumps a waste-paper basket down, and drops a footstool into it] Brat! [Then reading from the book gloomily] "Enter Eccles breathless. Esther and Polly rise-Esther puts on lid of bandbox." Bandbox!
Searching for something to represent a bandbox, she opens the workroom door.
DOT. Freda?
FREDA comes in.
DOT. I say, Freda. Anything the matter? You seem awfully down.
[FREDA does not answer.]
DOT. You haven't looked anything of a lollipop lately.
FREDA. I'm quite all right, thank you, Miss Dot.