O Santa Claus, come back!
Beeswax.
[Catching sight of the Three Lobs, who stand, brooms shouldered, guarding the hearth.] Oh, look! Dick, Babs! Just look!
Three wee brown men with brooms! [She approaches the Lobs.]
I know you! Yes,
I’ve read about you in a picture-book!
You’re Lobs!
First Lob.
[Saluting.] Lob here!
Second Lob.