Bobbie. I wrote it specially for her.
Joyce. Aren't you lucky? Well, come out presently when you feel you're rhapsodized enough. (Crosses to corridor.)
Bobbie. Oh, do shut up, Joy, and go away.
(Bobbie starts to play.)
Joyce. All right, keep calm. (Exits and re-enter.) Have you seen my racquet?
Bobbie. No.
Joyce. Oh, thanks, dear, for your kind help. Sorry I came in at the wrong moment.
(Exit Joyce brightly.)
Bobbie. Young sisters are a nuisance sometimes.
Faith (giggling). They must be.