John. You live in the “Big Jack?”
Conductor. Sure do. And I wanta taste a piece of that cake on the way back tonight.
John. Jes rest easy—them Augustiners aint gonna smell it. (Turns to Emma.) Is they, baby?
Emma. Not if Ah kin help it.
Somebody with a guitar sings: “Ho babe, mah honey taint no lie.”
(The conductor takes up tickets, passes on and exits right.)
Wesley. Look heah, you cake walkers—y’all oughter git up and limber up yo’ joints. I heard them folks over to St. Augustine been oiling up wid goose-grease, and over to Ocala they been rubbing down in snake oil.
A Woman’s Voice. You better shut up, Wesley, you just joined de church last month. Somebody’s going to tell the pastor on you.
Wesley. Tell it, tell it, take it up and smell it. Come on out you John and Emma and Effie, and limber up.
John. Naw, we don’t wanta do our walking steps—-nobody won’t wanta see them when we step out at the hall. But we kin do something else just to warm ourselves up.