Kitty. How would you like a nice winter hat? It's perfectly new and has never been worn. It's red and orange.
Annie. Oh, lady, yer a fallen angel, so yer are, fallen right down from the skies. I'd rather have a nice winter hat than have a bushel of coal.
Kitty. There it is. And merry Christmas.
Annie. Thank you, mum. Has it got flowers on it or feathers?
Kitty. Feathers.
Annie. Oh, thank ye. Yer a fallen angel; indade ye are, mum.
Kitty. You'd better go out this way. (Points to R.) I don't want my husband to see what I've given you.
Annie. I know how it is, mum. I've had two of 'em meself. But nather one was a circus clown, mum. I suppose that makes 'em bad-tempered.
Kitty. Yes, I suppose so. Good-bye.
Annie (crosses to door R.). Merry Christmas, mum. And bless ye for what ye have done for me this day. Yer a fallen angel, mum; indeed yer are. (Exits R.)