Complete Works of J. M. Barrie

by Unknown

  Of course there’s tongues out, and little things like that.

  POLICEMAN. Were the foreign children shy of you at first?

  CINDERELLA. Not as soon as they heard my name. ‘Oh, are you Cinderella?’ they said, in their various languages — and ‘when’s the ball?’ they said.

  POLICEMAN. Somebody must have telled them about you.

  CINDERELLA (happy). Not here. They had heard about me in their foreign lands. Everybody knows Cinderella: it’s fine. Even her —

  (indicating German) the moment I mentioned my name—’ Where’s your ugly sisters?’ says she, looking round.

  POLICEMAN. Sisters? It’s new to me, your having sisters. (He produces his notebook.)

  CINDERELLA (uneasily). It’s kind of staggering to me, too. I haven’t been able to manage them yet, but they’ll be at the ball.

  POLICEMAN. It’s queer.

  CINDERELLA. It is queer.

  POLICEMAN (sitting down with her). How do you know this ball’s tonight?

  CINDERELLA. It had to be some night. You see, after I closes my business I have chats with the children about things, and naturally it’s mostly about the ball. I put it off as long as I could, but it had to be some night — and this is the night.

  POLICEMAN. YOU mean it’s make-believe?

  CINDERELLA (almost fiercely). None of that!

  POLICEMAN (shaking his head). I don’t like it.

  CINDERELLA (shining). You wouldn’t say that if you heard the blasts on the trumpet and loud roars of ‘Make way for the Lady Cinderella!’

  (Three heads pop up again.)

  POLICEMAN. Lady?

  CINDERELLA (in a tremble of exultation). That’s me. That’s what you ‘re called at royal balls. Then loud huzzas is heard outside from the excited populace, for by this time the fame of my beauty has spread like wildfire through the streets, and folks is hanging out at windows and climbing lamp-posts to catch a sight of me.

  (Delight of the children.)

  POLICEMAN. My sakes, you see the whole thing clear!

  CINDERELLA. I see it from beginning to end — like as if I could touch it — the gold walls and the throne, and the lamp-posts and the horses.

  POLICEMAN. The horses?

  CINDERELLA.... Well, the competitors. The speeches — everything. If only I had my invite! That wasn’t a knock at the door, was it?

  POLICEMAN (so carried away that he goes to see). No.

  CINDERELLA (vindictively). I dare say that flunkey’s sitting drinking in some public-house.

  (Here MARIE-THERESE and GLADYS, who have been communicating across their boxes, politely invite the POLICEMAN to go away.)

  MARIE. Bonne nuit, Monsieur.

  GLADYS. Did you say you was going, Mister?

  POLICEMAN. They ‘re wonderful polite.

  CINDERELLA. I doubt that’s not politeness. The naughties — they ‘re asking you to go away.

  POLICEMAN. Oh! (He rises with hauteur.)

  CINDERELLA. You see we ‘re to have a bite of supper before I start — to celebrate the night.

  POLICEMAN. Supper with the kids! When I was a kid in the country at Badgery — You’ve done it again!

  CINDERELLA. Done what?

  POLICEMAN (with that strange feeling of being at home). I suppose I would be in the way?

  CINDERELLA. There’s not very much to eat. There’s just one for each.

  POLICEMAN. I’ve had my supper.

  CINDERELLA (seeing her way). Have you? Then I would be very pleased if you would stay.

  POLICEMAN. Thank you kindly.

  (She prepares the table for the feast. Eyes sparkle from the boxes.)

  CINDERELLA (shining). This is the first party we’ve ever had. Please keep an eye on the door in case there’s a knock.

  (She darts into her bedroom, and her charges are more at their ease.)

  MARIE, (sitting up, the better to display her nightgown). Monsieur, Monsieur, voilà!

  GLADYS. Cinderella made it out of watching a shop window.

  POLICEMAN (like one who has known his hostess from infancy). Just like her.

  MARIE (holding up a finger that is adorned with a ring). Monsieur!

  GLADYS (more practical). The fire’s going out.

  POLICEMAN (recklessly). In with another penny. (He feeds the fire with that noble coin.) Fellow allies, I’m going to take a peep into the German trench! Hah!

  (He stealthily mounts a chair and puts his hand into GRETCHEN’S box. We must presume that it is bitten by the invisible occupant, for he withdraws it hurriedly to the hearty delight of the spectators. This mirth changes to rapture as CINDERELLA makes a conceited entrance carrying a jug of milk and five hot potatoes in their jackets. Handsomely laden as she is, it is her attire that calls forth the applause. She is now wearing the traditional short brown dress of CINDERELLA, and her hair hangs loose. She tries to look modest.)

  CINDERELLA (displaying herself). What do you think?

  POLICEMAN (again in Badgery). Great! Turn round. And I suppose you made it yourself out of a shop window?

  CINDERELLA. No, we didn’t need no shop window; we all knew exactly what I was wearing when the knock came.

  GLADYS. Of course we did.

  (A potato is passed up to each and a cup of milk between two. There is also a delicious saucerful of melted lard into which they dip.

  GRETCHEN is now as much in evidence as the others, and quite as attractive; the fun becomes fast and furious.)

  CINDERELLA (to POLICEMAN ). A potato?

  POLICEMAN. No, I thank you.

  CINDERELLA. Just a snack?

  POLICEMAN. Thank you.

  (She shares with him.)

  CINDERELLA. A little dip?

  POLICEMAN. NO, I thank you.

  CINDERELLA. Just to look friendly.

  POLICEMAN. I thank you. (Dipping.) To you, Cinderella.

  CINDERELLA. I thank you.

  POLICEMAN (proposing a toast). The King!

  CINDERELLA (rather consciously). And the Prince of Wales.

  GLADYS. And father.

  POLICEMAN. The King, the Prince of Wales, and father.

  (The toast is drunk, dipped and eaten with acclamation. Gladys, uninvited, recites ‘The Mariners of England.’ marie-therese follows (without waiting for the end) with the Marseillaise, and gretchen puts out her tongue at both. Our POLICEMAN having intimated that he desires to propose another toast of a more lengthy character, the children are lifted down and placed in their nightgowns at the table.) POLICEMAN (suddenly becoming nervous). I have now the honour to propose absent friends.

  GLADYS (with an inspiration to which MARIE-THERESE bows elegantly). Vive la France!

  POLICEMAN. I mean our friends at the Front. And they have their children, too. Your boxes we know about, but I dare say there’s many similar and even queerer places, where the children, the smallest of our allies, are sleeping this night within the sound of shells. marie. La petite Belgique. La pauvre enfant!

  DELPHINE (proudly). Me! POLICEMAN. So here’s to absent friends —

  GLADYS (with another inspiration). Absent boxes!

  POLICEMAN. Absent boxes! And there’s a party we know about who would like uncommon to have the charge of the lot of them — (looking at Cinderella). And I couples the toast with the name of the said party.

  CINDERELLA (giving a pennyworth for nothing).Kind friends, it would be pretending of me not to let on that I know I am the party referred to by the last speaker — in far too flattersome words. When I look about me and see just four boxes I am a kind of shamed, but it wasn’t very convenient to me to have more. I will now conclude by saying I wish I was the old woman that lived in a shoe, and it doesn’t matter how many I had I would have known fine what to do. The end. (After further diversion.) It’s a fine party. I hope your potato is mealy?

  POLICEMAN. I never had a better tatie.

  CINDERELLA. Don’t spare the skins.

  POLICEMAN. But you ‘re eating nothing yourself.

>   CINDERELLA. I’m not hungry. And, of course, I’ll be expected to take a bite at the ball.

  (This reminder of the ball spoils the POLICEMAN ‘S enjoyment.)

  POLICEMAN. I wish — you wasn’t so sure of the ball.

  GLADYS (in defence). Why shouldn’t she not be sure of it?

  DELPHINE. Pourquoi, Monsieur?

  CINDERELLA (rather hotly). Don’t say things like that here.

  MARIE. Has Monsieur by chance seen God-mamma coming?

  POLICEMAN. God-mamma?

  CINDERELLA. That’s my Godmother; she brings my ball dress and a carriage with four ponies.

  GLADYS. Then away she goes to the ball — hooray — hooray!

  CINDERELLA. It’s all perfectly simple once Godmother comes.

  POLICEMAN (with unconscious sarcasm). I can see she’s important.

  CINDERELLA (with the dreadful sinking that comes to her at times.) You think she’ll come, don’t you?

  POLICEMAN. Cinderella, your hand’s burning — and in this cold room.

  CINDERELLA. Say you think she’ll come.

  POLICEMAN. I — well, I... I...

  GLADYS (imploringly). Say it, Mister! Delphine (begging). Monsieur! Monsieur! marie. If it is that you love me, Monsieur!

  POLICEMAN (in distress). I question if there was ever before a member of the Force in such a position. (Yielding.) I expect she’ll come.

  (This settles it in the opinion of the children, but their eyes are too bright for such a late hour, and they are ordered to bed. Our POLICEMAN replaces them in their boxes.)

  CINDERELLA. One — two — three... couchy!

  (They disappear.) POLICEMAN (awkwardly and trying to hedge).

  Of course this is an out-of-the-way little street for a Godmother to find.

  CINDERELLA. Yes, I’ve thought of that. I’d best go and hang about outside; she would know me by my dress.

  POLICEMAN (hastily). I wouldn’t do that. It’s a cold night. (He wanders about the room eyeing her sideways.) Balls is always late things.

  CINDERELLA. I’m none so sure. In wartime, you see, with the streets so dark and the King so kind, it would be just like him to begin early and close at ten instead of twelve. I must leave before twelve. If I don’t, there’s terrible disasters happens.

  POLICEMAN (unable to follow this). The ball might be put off owing to the Prince of Wales being in France.

  CINDERELLA. He catched the last boat. I’ll go out and watch.

  POLICEMAN (desperate). Stay where you are, and — and I’ll have a look for her.

  CINDERELLA. You ‘re too kind.

  POLICEMAN. Not at all. I must be stepping at any rate. If I can lay hands on her I’ll march her here, though I have to put the handcuffs on her.

  GLADYS (looking up). I think I heard a knock!

  (The POLICEMAN looks out, shakes his head, and finally departs after a queer sort of handshake with MISS THING.)

  CINDERELLA. He’s a nice man.

  GLADYS. Have you known him long?

  CINDERELLA (thinking it out). A longish time.

  He’s head of the secret police; him and me used to play together as children down in Badgery. His folks live in a magnificent castle, with two doors. (She becomes a little bewildered.) I’m all mixed up.

  (The children are soon asleep. She wanders aimlessly to the door. The wall closes on the little room, and we now see her standing in the street. Our POLICEMAN returns and flashes his lantern on her.)

  CINDERELLA. It’s you!

  POLICEMAN. It’s me. But there’s no Godmother. There’s not a soul... No.... Goodnight, Cinderella. Go inside.

  CINDERELLA (doggedly). Not me! I don’t feel the cold — not much. And one has to take risks to get a Prince. The only thing I’m feared about is my feet. If they was to swell I mightn’t be able to get the slippers on, and he would have naught to do with me.

  POLICEMAN. What slippers? If you won’t go back, I’ll stop here with you.

  CINDERELLA. No, I think there’s more chance of her coming if I’m alone.

  POLICEMAN. I ‘m very troubled about you.

  CINDERELLA (wistfully). Do you think I’m just a liar? Maybe I am. You see I’m all mixed up. I’m sore in need of somebody to help me out.

  POLICEMAN. I would do it if I could.

  CINDERELLA. I’m sure. (Anxiously.) Are you good at riddles?

  (He shakes his head.) There’s always a riddle before you can marry into a royal family.

  POLICEMAN (with increased gloom). The whole tiling seems to be most terrible difficult.

  CINDERELLA. Yes.... Goodnight.

  POLICEMAN. You won’t let me stay with you?

  CINDERELLA. No.

  (He puts his lantern on the ground beside her.) What’s that for? POLICEMAN (humbly). It’s just a sort of guard for you. (He takes off his muffler and puts it several times round her neck.)

  CINDERELLA. Nice!

  POLICEMAN. Good luck.

  (She finds it easiest just to nod in reply.) I wish I was a Prince. Cinderella (suddenly struck by the idea). You ‘re kind of like him.

  (He goes away. She sits down on the step to wait. She shivers. She takes the muffler off her neck and winds it round her more valuable feet. She falls asleep. Darkness comes, and snow. From somewhere behind, the shadowy figure of Cinderella’s Godmother, beautiful in a Red Cross Nurse’s uniform, is seen looking benignantly on the waif. Cinderella is just a little vague, huddled form — there is no movement.)

  GODMOTHER. Cinderella, my little godchild!

  CINDERELLA (with eyes unopening). Is that you, Godmother? godmother. It is I; my poor god-daughter is ail mixed up, and I have come to help her out.

  CINDERELLA. You have been long in coming. I very near gave you up.

  GODMOTHER. Sweetheart, I couldn’t come sooner, because in these days, you know, even the fairy godmother is with the Red Cross.

  CINDERELLA. Was that the reason? I see now; I thought perhaps you kept away because I wasn’t a good girl.

  GODMOTHER. You have been a good brave girl; I am well pleased with my darling godchild.

  CINDERELLA. It is fine to be called darling; it heats me up. I’ve been wearying for it, Godmother. Life’s a kind of hard.

  GODMOTHER. It will always be hard to you, Cinderella. I can’t promise you anything else.

  CINDERELLA. I don’t suppose I could have my three wishes, Godmother.

  GODMOTHER. I am not very powerful in these days, Cinderella; but what are your wishes?

  CINDERELLA. I would like fine to have my ball, Godmother.

  GODMOTHER. You shall have your ball.

  CINDERELLA. I would like to nurse the wounded.

  GODMOTHER. YOU shall nurse the wounded.

  CINDERELLA. I would like to be loved by the man of my choice, Godmother.

  GODMOTHER. You shall be loved by the man of your choice.

  CINDERELLA. Thank you kindly. The ball first, if you please, and could you squeeze in the children so that they may see me in my glory.

  GODMOTHER. Now let this be my downtrodden godchild’s ball, not as balls are, but as they are conceived to be in a little chamber in Cinderella’s head.

  (She fades from sight. In the awful stillness we can now hear the tiny clatter of horses infinitely small and infinitely far off.

  It is the equipage of CINDERELLA. Then an unearthly trumpet sounds thrice, and the darkness is blown away.

  It is the night of the most celebrated ball in history, and we see it through our heroine’s eyes. She has, as it were, made everything with her own hands, from the cloths of gold to the ices. Nearly everything in the ballroom is of gold: it was only with an effort that she checked herself from dabbing gold on the regal countenances. You can see that she has not passed by gin-palaces without thinking about them. The walls and furniture are so golden that you have but to lean against them to acquire a competency. There is a golden throne with gold cloths on it, and the royal seats are three golden rocking chairs; there would be a f
ourth golden rocking chair if it were not that CINDERELLA does not want you to guess where she is to sit. These chairs are stuffed to a golden corpulency.