Mary.
Our last hope gone! Now, what shall we do?
My strength is leaving!
(Bows head.)
Joseph.
Would I could succor you.
I'll wrap thee warm. Now rest thee here a while.
We've traveled far, full many a weary mile.
Enter Ruth from rear L., hurrying along.
Joseph.
Maiden, I fain would stop thee in thy flight—
Can'st tell where we could lodge this winter night?
Ruth.
That inn is crowded. There's one upon the hill.
Joseph.
I've tried them all, my wife is very ill.
Ruth.
That little stable there upon the loe,
(Points to L front.)
'Tis snug and warm. 'Twill shield thee from the snow.
Mary (rises).
God's blessing on thy little head, sweet child!
Come, Joseph, for the wind now waxes wild.
(Exits L. front.)
(Joseph leads her to exit L., then turns and looks off R.)
Joseph.