J. M. Barrie – A Kiss For Cinderella Play

A Kiss For Cinderella Play by James Matthew Barrie
A Kiss For Cinderella Play Act I
A Kiss For Cinderella Play Act II
A Kiss For Cinderella Play Act III

A Kiss For Cinderella Play Act III

The retreat in which Cinderella is to be found two months later has been described to us by our Policeman with becoming awe. It seems to be a very pleasant house near the sea, and possibly in pre-war days people were at ease in it. None of that, says the Policeman emphatically, with Dr. Bodie in charge. He could wink discreetly at Dr. Bodie in absence, but was prepared to say on oath that no one ever winked at her when she was present. In the old days he had been more than a passive observer of the suffragette in action, had even been bitten by them in the way of business; had not then gone into the question of their suitability for the vote, but liked the pluck of them; had no objection to his feelings on the woman movement being summed up in this way, that he had vaguely disapproved of their object, but had admired their methods. After knowing Dr. Bodie he must admit that his views about their object had undergone a change; was now a whole-hearted supporter, felt in his bones that Dr. Bodie was born to command: astonishing thing about her that she did it so natural-like. She was not in the least mannish or bullying; she was a very ladylike sort of person, a bit careful about the doing of her hair, and the set of her hat, and she had a soft voice, though what you might call an arbitrary manner. Very noticeable the way she fixed you with her steely eye. In appearance she was very like her room at the retreat, or the room was very like her; everything in cruel good order, as you might say; an extraordinarily decorous writing table near the centre, the sort of table against which you instinctively stood and waited to make your deposition; the friendliest thing in the room (to a Policeman) was the book-cases with wire doors, because the books looked through the wires at you in a homely way like prisoners. It was a sunny room at times, but this did not take away from its likeness to the Doctor, who could also smile on occasion.

Into this room Mr. Bodie is shown on a summer afternoon by a Maid with no nonsense about her in worKing hours.

Maid (who knows that male visitors should be impressed at once). This way, sir; I shall see whether Dr. Bodie is disengaged.

Bodie (doggedly). Miss Bodie.

Maid (with firm sweetness). Dr. Bodie, sir. What name shall I say?

Bodie (wincing). Mr. Bodie. Her brother.

Maid (unmoved). I shall tell Dr. Bodie, sir.

Bodie (a fighter to the last). Miss Bodie.

Maid. Dr. Bodie, sir.

(He is surveying the room with manly disapproval when his sister appears and greets him. She is all that the Policeman has said of her, and more; if we did not have a heroine already we would choose Dr. Bodie. At the same time it cannot be denied that she is enough to make any brother wince. For instance, immediately she has passed him the time of day, she seems to be considering his case. Perhaps this is because she has caught him frowning at her stethescope. There is certainly a twinkle somewhere about her face. Before he can step back indignantly she raises one of his eyelids and comes to a conclusion.)

Dr. Bodie. Oh dear! Well, Dick, it’s entirely your own fault.

(Mr. Bodie has a curious trick of kicKing backwards with one foot when people take liberties with him, and a liberty has been taken with him now.)

Kick away Dick, but you needn’t pretend that you have no faith in me as a medical man; for when you are really ill you always take the first train down here. In your heart I am the only Doctor you believe in.

Bodie. Stuff, Nellie.

Dr. Bodie. Then why did you put Cinderella under my care?

Bodie. I didn’t know where else to send her when she was discharged from the hospital. Had to give her a chance of picKing up. (Thawing.) It was good of you to give her board and lodging.

Dr. Bodie (sitting down to her day-book). Not at all. I’ll send you in a whacKing bill for her presently.

Bodie (kicKing). Well, I’ve come all this way to see her. How is she getting on, Nellie?

Dr. Bodie. She is in the garden. I daresay you can see her from the window.

Bodie. I see some men only; I believe they are wounded Tommies.

Dr. Bodie. Yes. There’s a Convalescent Home down here. That is part of my job. Do the men look as if they were gathering round anything?

Bodie. They do.

Dr. Bodie. Ah! Then that is Cinderella. She is now bossing the British Army, Dick.

Bodie. I might have guessed it. (Chuckling.) Does she charge a penny?

Dr. Bodie. Not to the military.

Bodie. Nellie, I have had some inquiries made lately about her parents.

Dr. Bodie. She doesn’t know much about them herself.

Bodie. No, and we needn’t tell her this. Her mother—ah well, poor soul!—and the father was a very bad egg. And from that soil, Nellie, this flower has sprung. Nobody to tend it. Can’t you see little Cinderella with her watering-can carefully bringing up herself. I wish I could paint that picture.

(Perhaps Dr. Bodie sees the picture even more clearly than he does.)

I see her now. She’s on a bed, Nellie.

Dr. Bodie. Yes. That is for convenience, for wheeling her about.

Bodie (waving). She sees me. And how is she, Nell?

Dr. Bodie. She is always bright—perhaps too bright.

Bodie. Can’t be too bright.

Dr. Bodie (controlling her feelings). A girl who is found frozen in the street by a Policeman and taken to a London Hospital, where she has pneumonia—poor little waif! You know, she is very frail, Dick.

Bodie. I know; but she will get better, won’t she?

(He has said it confidently, but his sister looks at him and turns away. He is startled.)

Come, Nellie, she is going to get better, isn’t she?

Dr. Bodie (shaKing her head). There isn’t much chance, Dick. Her body and soul have had to do too long without the little things they needed.

Bodie. She shall have them now, I promise. What are they?

Dr. Bodie. First of all, just food. She has been half starved all her life. And then human affection. She has been starved of that also; she who has such a genius for it.

(She goes to the window and calls.)

Dr. Bodie. No. 7, bring Cinderella in here.

(Cinderella in her bed is wheeled in through the window by the soldier, Danny. She is wearing a Probationer’s cap and dressing jacket. The bed is a simple iron one, small and low, of the kind that was so common in war hospitals; it is on tiny pneumatic wheels with ball bearings for easy propulsion. Though frail, Cinderella is full of glee.)

Bodie. Hurray, Cinderella!

Cinderella. Hurray! Isn’t it lovely. I’m glad you’ve seen me in my carriage. When I saw there was visitor I thought at first it might be David.

Bodie. David? I didn’t know you . . . Is he a relative?

(Cinderella finds this extremely funny—so does Danny; even the Doctor is discreetly amused.)

Cinderella (to Danny). Tell the men that! He’s not exactly a relative. (She pulls Mr. Bodie down by the lapels of his coat.) He’s just that great big ridiculous Policeman!

Bodie. Oho! Our Policeman again! Does he come all this way to see you?

Cinderella (her shoulders rising in pride). Twice already; and he’s coming again to-day! Mr. Bodie, get the Doctor to take you over the Convalescent Home. There’s a field with cows in it, a whole litter of them! And the larder? There’s barrel upon barrel full of eggs and sawdust, and Danny says—this is Danny—

(Danny, who is slightly lame and is in hospital blue, comes to attention.)

Danny says the hens lay in the barrels so as to save time in pacKing.

(Danny finds the severe eye of the Doctor upon him and is abashed.)

Mr. Bodie, look! (displaying her cap). The Doctor lets me wear it; it makes me half a nurse, a kind of nurse’s help. I make bandages, and they’re took away in glass bottles and sterilized. Mr. Bodie, as sure as death I’m doing something for my country.

Dr. Bodie. Cinderella, you’re talKing too much.

Cinderella (subsiding meekly). Yes, Doctor.

Dr. Bodie. Dick, I’m going over to the hospital presently. If you like to come with me—really want to see it—no affected interest—

Bodie. Thanks, I should like it—Dr. Bodie.

Dr. Bodie (to Danny). You’re not required any more, No. 7.

(Danny is going thankfully, but she suddenly pulls him forward to examine his face.)

No. 7, you are wearing that brown eye again.

Danny (who has a glass eye). Yes, Doctor—you see it’s like this. First they sent me a brown eye. Then some meddlesome person finds out my natural eye is blue. So then they sends me a blue eye.

Doctor. Yes, where is it?

Danny. It was a beautiful eye, Doctor—but I had taken a fancy to little browny. And I have a young lady; so I took the liberty of having the blue eye made up into a brooch and I sent it to her.

Dr. Bodie (without moving a muscle). I shall report you.

Bodie (when the martinet and Danny have gone). Are you afraid of her, Cinderella? I am.

Cinderella. No! She sometimes dashes me, but she is a fearful kind lady. (She pulls him down again for further important revelations.) She’s very particular about her feet.

Bodie (staggered). Is she! In a feminine way?

Cinderella. Yes.

Bodie. Hurray! Then I have her. The Achilles Heel! (He is once more jerked down.)

Cinderella. I have a spring bed.

Bodie. Ah!

Cinderella (in some awe). The first time I woke in hospital, an angel with streamers was standing there holding a tray in her hand, and on the tray was a boiled egg. Then I thought it was the egg you get the day before you die.

Bodie. What egg is that?

Cinderella (who in the course of a troubled life has acquired much miscellaneous information). In the Workhouse you always get an egg to your tea the day before you die. (She whispers.) I know now I’m not the real Cinderella.

Bodie (taKing her hand). How did you find out?

Cinderella (gravely). It’s come to me. The more I eat the clearer I see things. I think it was just an idea of mine; being lonely-like I needed to have something to hang on to.

Bodie. That was it. Are you sorry you’re not the other one?

Cinderella. I’m glad to be just myself. It’s a pity though about the glass slippers. That’s a lovely idea.

Bodie. Yes.

Cinderella. Tell me about Them.

Bodie. The children? They’re still with me, of course. I’m keeping my promise, and they will be with me till you are able to take care of them again. I have them a great deal in the studio in the day-time.

Cinderella (cogitating). I wonder if that’s wise.

Bodie. Oh, they don’t disturb me much.

Cinderella. I was meaning perhaps the smell of the paint would be bad for them.

Bodie. I see! Of course I could give up painting!

Cinderella (innocently). I think that would be safest.

(Mr. Bodie kicks.)

Are you kind to Gretchen?

Bodie. I hope so. I feel it’s my duty.

Cinderella (with a sinKing). It’ll not be no use for Gretchen if that’s how you do it. I’m sure I should get up. (She attempts to rise.)

Bodie. Now, now!

Cinderella. Are you fond of her, especially when she’s bad?

Bodie (hurriedly). Yes, I am, I am! But she’s never bad! they are all good, they are like angels.

Cinderella (despairing). Then they’re cheating you. Where’s my boots?

Bodie. Quiet! That’s all right.

(A pretty and not very competent Probationer comes in at the window, carrying fishing rods, followed by Danny with croquet mallets and balls.)

Probationer (laden). I want to shake hands with you, Mr. Bodie, but you see how I am placed.

Cinderella. Do your pretty bow at any rate.

(The attractive girl does her pretty bow to Mr. Bodie. It is one of the few things she does well, and will probably by and by bring her into some safe matrimonial harbour; but in her country’s great hour she is of less value to it than a ball of twine. She is of a nice nature and would like to be of use, but things slip through her hands as through her mind; she cannot even carry a few lengths of fishing rods without an appeal to heaven. She is counting the pieces now with puckered brow.)

Danny (one of the few men in the world who can carry four croquet balls in two hands). You see, sir, there is a pond in the garden, and we have a fishing competition; and as there are not enough rods the men hides them so as to be sure of having a rod next day.

Probationer. It is very unfair to the others, Danny.

Danny (warmly). That’s what I say, Nurse.

Cinderella. The Matron found a rod the other morning hidden beneath one of the men’s mattresses.

Probationer. The odd thing is how he could have got it to the house without being seen. (Her counting of the pieces ends in her discomfiture.)

Bodie. Anything wrong?

Probationer. There are only nine pieces. A whole rod is missing!

Cinderella (trembling for her). Nurse, I’m so sorry!

Bodie. After all, it’s a trivial matter, isn’t it?

Probationer (her beautiful empty eyes filling). Trivial! I’m responsible. Just think what Doctor Bodie will say to me!

Bodie. Are you afraid of her too?

Probationer. Afraid! I should think I am.

Danny. And so am I.

(Before Mr. Bodie has time to kick, the terrible one reappears.)

Dr. Bodie. I’m going over to the Home now, Dick. You must come at once, if you are coming.

Bodie (cowed and getting his coat). Yes, all right.

Dr. Bodie. A great coat on a day like this! Absurd!

Bodie (remembering what Cinderella has told him and pointing sternly). French shoes on roads like these, ridiculous!

(Dr. Bodie kicks this time—it is evidently a family trait. Delight of Danny.)

Dr. Bodie. No. 7, you needn’t grin unless there is a reason! Is there a reason?

Danny. No, no, Doctor.

Dr. Bodie. Fishing rods all right this time, Nurse?

Probationer (faltering). I’m so ashamed, Doctor Bodie—there is one missing.

Dr. Bodie. Again! I must ask you, Nurse, to report yourself to the Matron.

Probationer (crushed). Yes, Doctor Bodie.

Dr. Bodie (observing that Danny is stealing away unobtrusively). No. 7!

Danny (still bacKing). Yes, Doctor.

Dr. Bodie. Come here. What is the matter with your right leg. It seems stiff.

Danny (with the noble resignation of Tommies, of which he has read in the papers). It’s a twinge of the old stiffness come back, Doctor. I think there’s a touch of east in the wind. The least touch of east seems to find the hole that bullet made. But I’m not complaining.

Dr. Bodie (brutally). No, it is I who am complaining.

(She feels his leg professionally.)

Give me that fishing rod.

(The long-suffering man unbuttons, and to his evident astonishment produces the missing rod.)

Danny (without hope but in character). Well, I am surprised!

Dr. Bodie. You will be more surprised presently. Come along, Dick.

(She takes her brother away.)

Danny (the magnanimous). She’s great! Words couldn’t express my admiration for that woman—lady—man—Doctor.

Probationer. How mean of you, Danny—to get me into trouble.

Danny (in the public school manner). Sorry. But I’ll have to pay for this. (Seeing visions.) She has a way of locKing one up in the bathroom.

Probationer (with spirit). Let us three conspirators combine to defy her. Carried. Proposed, that No. 7, being a male, conveys our challenge to her. Carried.

Cinderella (gleefully). Go on, Danny.

Danny (of the bull-dog breed). I never could refuse the ladies. (He uses the stethescope as a telephone.) Give me the Convalescent Home, please. Is that you, Doctor? How are you? We’ve just rung up to defy you. Now, now, not another word, or I’ll have you locked up in the bathroom. Wait a mo; there’s a nurse here wants to give you a piece of her mind.

Probationer (with the stethescope). Is that you, Miss Bodie? What? No, I have decided not to call you Dr. Bodie any more.

(Alas, Dr. Bodie returns unseen by the window and hears her.)

Please to report yourself as in disgrace at once to the Matron. That will do. Good-bye. Run along. Heavens, if she had caught us!

Danny. It would have meant permanent residence in bathroom for me.

(It is then that they see her.)

Dr. Bodie (after an awful pause). I have come back for my stethescope, Nurse.

(The Probationer can think of no suitable reply.)

Danny (searching his person). I don’t think I have it, Doctor.

Dr. Bodie. Don’t be a fool, No. 7.

Probationer (surrendering it). Here it is, Dr. Bodie, I—I—

Dr. Bodie (charmingly). Thank you. And, my dear, don’t be always Doctor Bodieing me. That, of course, at the Home, and on duty, but here in my house you are my guest. I am Miss Bodie to you here. Don’t let me forget that I am a woman. I assure you I value that privilege. (She lingers over Cinderella’s pillow.) Dear, you must invite Nurse and Danny to tea with you, and all be happy together. Little Cinderella, if I will do as a substitute, you haven’t altogether lost your Godmother.

(She goes, shaKing a reproving finger at Danny.)

Danny. We’re done again!

Probationer (reduced to tears). Horrid little toad that I’ve been. Some one take me out and shoot me.

(The Maid comes with tea things.)

Danny. Allow me, Maiden.

ellen. Dr. Bodie says I’m to bring two more cups.

Danny (whose manner is always that of one who, bathroom or no bathroom, feels he is a general favourite). If you please, child.

Probationer (as soon as ellen has gone). Dr. Bodie is an angel.

Danny (quite surprised that he has not thought of this before). That’s what she is!

Cinderella. Danny, can’t you say something comforting to poor Nurse.

Danny (manfully). I’m thankful to say I can. Nurse, I’ve often had fits of remorse; and I can assure you that they soon pass away, leaving not a mark behind.

Probationer. Dear Dr. Bodie!

Danny. Exactly. You’ve taken the words out of my mouth. The only thing for us to think of henceforth is what to do to please her. Her last words to us were to draw up to the tea-table. Are we to disregard the last words of that sublime female?

Probationer (recovering). No!

(The extra cups having been brought, the company of three settle down to their war-time tea-party, the tray being on cinderella’s lap and a guest on each side of the bed.)

Danny. Our plain duty is now to attack the victuals so as to become strong in that Wonder’s service. Here’s to dear Dr. Bodie, and may she find plenty to do elsewhere till this party is over.

Probationer (able to toss her head again). After all, she put us in a false position.

Danny. That’s true. Down with her!

Probationer. I drink to you, Danny.

Danny (gallantly). And I reply with mine.

Cinderella. It’s queer to think I’m being—what’s the word?—hostess.

Danny. All things are queer ever since the dull old days before the war; and not the un-queerest is that Daniel Duggan, once a plumber, is now partaKing of currant cake with the Lady Charlotte something!

Cinderella (nearly letting her cup fall). What?

Probationer. You weren’t supposed to know that.

Cinderella. Does he mean you? Are you—?

Probationer. It’s nothing to make a fuss about, Cinderella. How did you find out, Danny?

Danny. Excuse me, but your haughty manner of wringing out a dishcloth betrayed you? My war-worn eyes, of various hues, have had the honour of seeing the Lady Charlotte washing the ward floor. O memorable day! O glorified floor! O blushing dishcloth!

Probationer. That was just a beginning. Some day I hope when I rise in the profession to be allowed to wash you, Danny.

Danny (bowing grandly). The pleasure, my lady, will be mutual. (He hums a tune of the moment.)

‘And when I tell them that some day washed by her I’ll be—they’ll never believe me’—

Probationer (with abandon). ‘But when I tell them ’twas a jolly good thing for me—they’ll all believe me!’

Danny. And when I tell them—and I certainly mean to tell them—that one day she’ll walk out with me—

(In a spirit of devilry he crooks his arm; she takes it—she walks out with him for a moment.)

Probationer (coming to). No. 7, what are we doing!

Cinderella. It’s just the war has mixed things up till we forget how different we are.

Probationer (with a moment of intuition). Or it has straightened things out so that we know how like we are.

(From the garden comes the sound of a gramophone.)

Cinderella. David’s a long time in coming.

Danny. The four-twenty’s not in yet.

Cinderella. Yes, it is; I heard the whistle.

Danny (sarcastically). Would you like me to see if he hasn’t lost his way? Those policemen are stupid fellows.

Cinderella. None of that, Danny; but I would like fine if you take a look.

Danny. Anything to oblige you, though it brings our social to a close. None of these little tea-parties after the war is over, fine lady!

Probationer. Oh dear! I’ll often enjoy myself less, Danny.

Danny. Daniel Duggan will sometimes think of this day when you are in your presentation gown and he is on your roof, looKing for that there leakage.

Probationer. Oh, Danny, don’t tell me that when I meet you with your bag of tools I’ll be a beast. Surely there will be at least a smile of friendship between us in memory of the old days.

Danny. I wonder! That’s up to you, my lady. (But he will be wiser if he arranges that it is to be up to himself.)

Probationer (calling attention to the music). Listen! No. 7—to-day is ours.

(She impulsively offers herself for the waltz; they dance together.)

Danny (when all is over). Thank you, my lady.

(She curtseys and he goes out rather finely. It is not likely that her next partner will be equal to her plumber. The two girls are left alone, both nice girls of about the same age; but the poor one has already lived so long that the other, though there may be decades before her, will never make up on Cinderella. It would be grand to see this waif, the moment after death, setting off stoutly on the next adventure.)

Cinderella. He is a droll character, Danny! (Examining herself in a hand-mirror.) Nurse, would you say my hair is looKing right? He likes the cap.

Probationer (who will soon forget her, but is under the spell at present). Your David?

Cinderella (on her dignity). He’s not mine, Nurse.

Probationer. Isn’t he?

Cinderella. Hey, hey, hey! Nurse, when he comes you don’t need to stay very long.

Probationer (in the conspiracy). I won’t.

Cinderella (casually). He might have things to say to me, you see.

Probationer. Yes, he might.

Cinderella (solemnly). You and me are both very young, but maybe you understand about men better than I do. You’ve seen him, and this is terrible important. Swear by Almighty God you’re to tell me the truth. Would you say that man loves little children?

Probationer (touched). Don’t frighten me, Cinderella; I believe him to be that kind of man. Are you fond of your Policeman, dear?

Cinderella (winking). That’s telling! (Importantly.) Nurse, did you ever have a love-letter?

Probationer (gaily). Not I! Don’t want to; horrid little explosives! But have you—has he—?

Cinderella (becoming larger). In my poor opinion, if it’s not a love-letter, it’s a very near thing.

Probationer. If I could see the darling little detestable?

Cinderella. Oh no, oh no, no, no, no! But I’ll tell you one thing as is in it. This—’There are thirty-four policemen sitting in this room, but I would rather have you, my dear.’ What do you think? That’s a fine bit at the end.

Probationer (sparkling). Lovely! Go on, Cinderella, fling reticence to the winds.

Cinderella (doing so). Unless I am—very far out—in my judgment of men—that man is infatuate about me!

Probationer (clapping her hands). The delicious scoundrel! Cinderella, be merciless to him! Knife him, you dear! Give him beans!

Cinderella (gurgling). I ill-treats him most terrible!

Probationer. That’s the way! down with lovers, slit them to ribbons, stamp on them.

Cinderella. Sometimes I—(she sits up). Listen!

Probationer (alarmed). It isn’t Dr. Bodie, is it?

Cinderella. No, it’s him.

Probationer. I don’t hear a sound.

Cinderella. I can hear him fanning his face with his helmet. He has come in such a hurry. Nurse, you watch me being cruel to him.

Probationer. At him, Cinderella, at him!

Danny (flinging open the door). The Constabulary’s carriage stops the way.

(Our Policeman stalks in, wetting his lips as he does so.)

Probationer (giving him her hand). How do you do? You forget, I daresay, that I met you when you were here last; but I remember ‘our Policeman.’

(He is bashful.)

There she is.

(The wicked invalid is looKing the other way.)

Policeman. A visitor to see you, Jane.

Cinderella (without looKing round). I thought it had a visitor’s sound. (She peeps at the Probationer gleefully.)

Policeman (very wooden). You don’t ask who it is, Jane?

Cinderella. I thought it might be that great big ridiculous Policeman.

(Danny laughs, and our Policeman gives him a very stern look.)

Policeman (after reflection). I’m here again, Jane.

Cinderella (admitting it with a glance). Perhaps you didn’t ought to come so often; it puts them about.

Policeman (cleverly). But does it put you about, Jane?

Cinderella. Hey! Hey! (With a cunning waggle of the hand she intimates to the nurse that she may go.)

Danny (who is not so easily got rid of). You had best be going too, Robert. The lady has answered you in the negative.

Policeman (lowering). You make a move there.

(Danny, affecting alarm, follows the Probationer.)

Cinderella. I like fine to hear you ordering the public about, David.

Policeman (humbly). I’m very pleased, Jane, if there’s any little thing about me that gives you satisfaction.

(He puts down a small parcel that he has brought in.)

Cinderella (curious). What’s in the parcel, David?

Policeman. That remains to be seen. (He stands staring at his divinity.)

Cinderella (sneering). What are you looKing at?

Policeman. Just at you.

Cinderella (in high delight). Me! There’s little to look at in me. You should see the larder at the Home! You’ll have a cup of China tea and some of this cake?

Policeman. No, Jane, no. (In a somewhat melancholy voice.) Things to eat have very little interest to me now.

Cinderella. Oh?

Policeman. I’ve gone completely off my feed.

(Cinderella would have liked the Probationer to hear this.)

Cinderella (artfully). I wonder how that can be!

Policeman. Did you get my letter, Jane?

Cinderella (calmly). I got it—

Policeman. Did you—did you think it was a peculiar sort of a letter?

Cinderella (mercilessly). I don’t mind nothing peculiar in it.

Policeman. There was no word in it that took you aback, was there?

Cinderella. Not that I mind of.

Policeman (worried). Maybe you didn’t read it very careful?

Cinderella. I may have missed something. What was the word, David?

Policeman (in gloom). Oh, it was just a small affair. It was just a beginning. I thought, if she stands that she’ll stand more. But if you never noticed it—(He sighs profoundly.)

Cinderella. I’ll take another look —

Policeman (brightening). You’ve kept it?

Cinderella. I have it here.

Policeman. I could let you see the word if it’s convenient to you to get the letter out of your pocket.

Cinderella. It’s not in my pocket.

Policeman. Is it under the pillow?

Cinderella. No.

Policeman (puzzled). Where, then?

(cinderella, with charming modesty, takes the letter from her bodice. Her lover is thunderstruck.)

What made you think of keeping it there?

Cinderella. I didn’t think, David; it just came to me.

Policeman (elate). It’s infallayable! I’ll let you see the word.

Cinderella (smiling at the ridiculous man). You don’t need to bother, David. Fine I know what the word is.

Policeman (anxious). And you like it?

Cinderella. If you like it.

Policeman. That emboldens me tremendous.

Cinderella. I don’t like that so much. If there’s one thing I like more than any other thing in the world—

Policeman (eager). Yes?

Cinderella. It’s seeing you, David, tremendous bold before all other folk, and just in a quake before me.

Policeman (astounded). It’s what I am! And yet there’s something bold I must say to you.

Cinderella (faltering genteelly). Is there?

Policeman. It’ll be a staggering surprise to you.

(Cinderella giggles discreetly.)

I promised the Doctor as I came in not to tire you. (With some awe.) She’s a powerful woman that.

Cinderella. If you tire me I’ll hold up my hand just like you do to stop the traffic. Go on, David. Just wait a moment. (She takes off his helmet and holds it to her thin breast.) Here’s a friend of mine. Now?

Policeman (despairing of himself). I wish I was a man in a book. It’s pretty the way they say it; and if ever there was a woman that deserved to have it said pretty to her it’s you. I’ve been reading the books. There was one chap that could speak six languages. Jane, I wish I could say it to you in six languages, one down and another come up, till you had to take me in the end.

Cinderella. To take you?

Policeman (in woe). Now I’ve gone and said it in the poorest, silliest way! Did you hold up your hand to stop me, Jane?

Cinderella. No.

Policeman (encouraged). But I’ve said it. Will you, Jane?

Cinderella (doggedly). Will I what?

Policeman. Do you not see what I’m driving at?

Cinderella. Fine I see what you’re driving at.

Policeman. Then won’t you help me out?

Cinderella. No.

Policeman. If you could just give me a shove.

Cinderella (sympathetically). Try Badgery.

Policeman (brightening). Have you forgotten that pool in Badgery Water where the half-pounder used—No, you never was there! Jane, the heart of me is crying out to walk with you by Badgery Water.

Cinderella. That’s better!

Policeman. I would never think of comparing Mrs. Bodie to you. For my part I think nothing of uppers. Feet for me.

(She gives him her hand to hold.)

My dear!

Cinderella. You said that was only a beginning!

Policeman. My dearest!

Cinderella (glistening). I’m not feeling none tired, David.

Policeman. My pretty!

Cinderella. Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!

Policeman. I don’t set up to be a Prince, Jane; but I love you in a Princely way, and if you would marry me, you wonder, I’ll be a true man to you till death us do part. Come on, Cinders. (Pause.) It’s the only chance that belt of mine has.

Cinderella. No, no, I haven’t took you yet! There’s a thing you could do for me, that would gratify me tremendous.

Policeman. It’s done.

Cinderella. I want you to let me have the satisfaction, David, of having refused you once.

Policeman. Willingly; but what for?

Cinderella. I couldn’t say. Just because I’m a woman. Mind you, I daresay I’ll cast it up at you in the future.

Policeman. I’ll risk that. Will you be my Princess, Jane?

Cinderella. You promise to ask again? At once?

Policeman. Yes.

Cinderella. Say—I do.

Policeman. I do.

Cinderella (firmly). It’s a honour you do me, Policeman, to which I am not distasteful. But I don’t care for you in that way, so let there be no more on the subject. (Anxiously.) Quick, David!

Policeman. For the second time, will you marry me, Jane?

Cinderella (who has been thinKing out the answer for several days). David, I love thee, even as the stars shining on the parched earth, even as the flowers opening their petals to the sun; even as mighty ocean with its billows; even so do I love thee, David. (She nestles her head on his shoulder.)

Policeman. If only I could have said it like that!

Cinderella (happily). That’s just a bit I was keeping handy. (Almost in a whisper.) David, do you think I could have a engagement ring?

Policeman (squaring his shoulders). As to that, Jane, first tell me frankly, do you think the Police Force is romantical?

Cinderella. They’re brave and strong, but—

Policeman. The general verdict is no. And yet a more romantical body of men do not exist. I have been brooding over this question of engagement rings, and I consider them unromantical affairs! (He walks toward his parcel.)

Cinderella. David, what’s in that parcel?

Policeman. Humbly hoping you would have me, Jane, I have had something special made for you—

Cinderella (thrilling). Oh, David, what is it?

Policeman. It’s a Policeman’s idea of an engagement ring—

Cinderella. Quick! Quick!

Policeman. —for my amazing romantical mind said to me that, instead of popping a ring on the finger of his dear, a true lover should pop a pair of glass slippers upon her darling feet!

Cinderella. David, you’re a poet!

Policeman (not denying it). It’s what you’ve made me—and proud I would be if, for the honour of the Force, I set this new fashion in engagement rings. (He reveals the glass slippers.)