Vasantasenā. A slave of your father's, won by his virtues.
Radanikā. My child, the lady is your mother.
Rohasena. That's a lie, Radanikā. If the lady is my mother, why does she wear those pretty ornaments?
Vasantasenā. My child, your innocent lips can say terrible things. [She removes her ornaments. Weeping.] Now I am your mother. You shall take these ornaments and have a gold cart made for you.
Rohasena. Go away! I won't take them. You're crying.
Vasantasenā. [Wiping away her tears.] I'll not cry, dear. There! go and play. [She fills the clay cart with her jewels.] There, dear, you must have a little gold cart made for you.
[Exit Radanikā, with Rohasena.
[Enter Vardhamānaka, driving a bullock-cart.]
Vardhamānaka. Radanikā, Radanikā! Tell mistress Vasantasenā that the covered cart is standing ready at the side-door.
Radanikā. [Entering.] Mistress, Vardhamānaka is here, and he says that the cart is waiting at the side-door.