FLIP
The prettiest of all she-devils, she—
LABOR
And she is pliant ever to his will
Who has most power. And we do both contend
That power resides in pumpkins—but I claim—
CAPITAL
Of pumpkins we were speaking. Be exact.
(To Flip)
He claims them all because he planted them.
Could he have planted them without my aid
Who pay the wage that buys his daily bread?
LABOR
I furnish you, your bread, O Capital,
And cake besides. You do not live on pumpkins!
All, all is mine. Without me you would die.