DICKON [Straddling the handle.] Haha! gee up! my Salem mare. [Then, pseudo-philosophically.] A broomstick—that’s for imagination!
[He begins to construct the scarecrow, while Goody Rickby, assisting, brings the constructive parts from various nooks and corners.]
We are all pretty artists, to be sure, Bessie. Phidias, he sculptures the gods; Raphael, he paints the angels; the Lord God, he creates Adam; and Dickon—fetch me the poker—aha! Dickon! What doth Dickon? He nullifies ’em all; he endows the Scarecrow!—A poker: here’s his conscience. There’s two fine legs to walk on,—imagination and conscience. Yonder flails now! The ideal—the beau idéal, dame—that’s what we artists seek. The apotheosis of scarecrows! And pray, what’s a scarecrow? Why, the antithesis of Adam.—“Let there be candles!” quoth the Lord God, sitting in the dark. “Let there be candle-extinguishers,” saith Dickon. “I am made in the image of my maker,” quoth Adam. “Look at yourself in the glass,” saith Goodman Scarecrow. [Taking two implements from Goody Rickby.] Fine! fine! here are flails—one for wit, t’other for satire. Sapristi! I with two such arms, my lad, how thou wilt work thy way in the world!
GOODY RICKBY You talk as if you were making a real mortal, Dickon.
DICKON To fool a crow, Goody, I must fashion a crittur that will first deceive a man.
GOODY RICKBY He’ll scarce do that without a head. [Pointing to the loft.] What think ye of yonder Jack-o’-lantern? ’Twas made last Hallowe’en.
DICKON Rare, my Psyche! We shall collaborate. Here!
[Running up the ladder, he tosses down a yellow hollowed pumpkin to Goody Rickby, who catches it. Then rummaging forth an armful of cornstalks, ears, tassels, dried squashes, gourds, beets, etc., he descends and throws them in a heap on the floor.]
Whist! the anatomy.
GOODY RICKBY [Placing the pumpkin on the shoulders.] Look!