[Enter Work, Health, and Love at the back of the garden. Work, advancing, touches Everygirl upon the shoulder.]
Work. It is I, Everygirl, who am the solace
And those who toil with me, though hard their lot,
Find gladness in the joy of working.
I would go with you. The World cares not
For idle hands. So take me, though I promise not
Delights and wild excesses of emotion.
For the great joy of labor and of toil I bring,
And you shall learn to glorify the work
Whate’er it be!