White. "Shouting the battle-cry of freedom."
Fred. Glorious! Why, boys, it's a perfect uproar.
White. There's enough, isn't there?
Fred. No, sir, four stanzas. Come, be quick.
Gray. I don't know any more.
White. I'm sure I don't.
Fred. Yes you do, you're trying to shirk; but I won't have it. You want a taste of the rattan. Come, be lively.
Gray. (Sings.)
"'What makes the lamb love Mary so?'
The eager children cry." (Snaps.)