William. They do call this sort the Early Snowball. ’Tis a foolish name for a table root.
Laura. ’Tis a beautiful turnip.
William. [Giving her the bunch.] You may as well have them too.
Laura. O you’re very kind, master.
[There is another long silence. William shuffles on his feet—Laura bends admiringly over her gifts.
William. There’s young beans and peas and a spring cabbage too, within the basket. I do grow a little of most everything.
Laura. O shall we sit down and look at the vegetables together?
William. [Visibly relieved.] We might do worse nor that. [They sit down side by side with the basket between them.
Laura. [Lifting the cabbage.] O, this is quite a little picture! See how the leaves do curl backwards—so fresh and green!
William. Ah, and that one has a rare white heart to it, it has.