Why, if I were dead!
(Pause. The snowman lifts his hand and points toward the bed. Joan sees his meaning.)
Snowman. If you were dead?
Joan.—
No, no, I say you lie!
My little ’uns? God wouldn’t let ’em die.
’A wouldn’t have the heart, ’a wouldn’t have the heart.
Snowman.—
Yet there’s a heart,
Now quick to beat,