(A wasp settles on the peaches.)
And I wish one could kill all wicked pests as easily as you.
(She makes a dab with the paper-knife, the wasp escapes.)
Most extraordinary!
(Relinquishing the pursuit of wasps, she resumes her reading.)
(In a little while Mr. John Brown returns, both hands occupied. The chair he deposits by the tent door, and hitches Mop's "lead" to the back of that on which the Queen is sitting. With the small beginnings of a smile she lowers the paper, and looks at him and his accompaniments.)
QUEEN. Well, Brown? Oh, yes; that's quite a nice one…. I'm sure there's a wasps' nest somewhere; there are so many of them about.
J.B. Eh, don't fash yourself! Wasps have a way of being aboot this time of year. It's the fruit they're after.
QUEEN. Yes: like Adam and Eve.
J.B. That's just it, Ma'am.