Complete Works of J. M. Barrie

by Unknown

  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, departs with 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 infallayble! 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 halfpounder 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.

  POLICËMAN. Willingly; but what for?

  CINDERELLA. I couldn’t say. Just because I’m a woman. Mind you, I dare say 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.)

  (CINDERELLA holds out her hands for the little doves.)

  They’re not for hands. (He uncovers her feet.)

  CINDERELLA. They ‘re terrible small! Maybe they’ll not go on!

  (They go on.)

  CINDERELLA. They ‘re like two kisses.

  POLICEMAN. More like two loveletters.

  CINDERELLA. No, David, no, — kisses.

  POLICEMAN. We won’t quarrel about it, Cinders; but at the same time... However!

  (He presses her face to him for a moment so that he may not see its transparency, DR. BODIE has told him something.)

  SEVEN WOMEN

  MR. and MRS. TOVEY, a pleasant couple of the agreeable age, are in their Chelsea drawingroom, the envied bit of which is the long low twisted window at the back overlooking the river. They never draw the curtains on this view when (as tonight) visitors are expected, for it is one of the fairest in London, especially by night; but they often ask you to step on to the leads, from which every moving coal-barge with a light on it is floating magic. The Toveys, knowing themselves to be alone, are discussing tonight’s dinner at their ease, when up steals the rogue of a curtain. ‘The audience, madam,’ we say, and go, as primly as if we were the parlour-maid. Perhaps they have not heard us, for the talk continues as if they were still unobserved.

  TOVEY (approvingly). A capital little menu.

  MRS. TOVEY (though she thinks so herself). Of course it is a short dinner, Jack, to offer to such a celebrity. (With a sigh) I must say it would have been rather nice of you if you could have remembered whether when Captain Rattray was a boy he liked lamb.

  TOVEY. My dear, just because Rattray has had this little flutter in China waters I, who haven’t seen him for twenty years, am expected to remember whether when we were inky beasts at school he liked lamb. All I do remember is that he was timid and that I punched the heads of the boys who bullied him.

  MRS. TOVEY. Yes, I have noticed that is the one thing all men remember about a school friend.

  TOVEY. Any further orders, madam?

  MRS. TOVEY (with gentle resignation). Well, it would BE rather sweet of you if you didn’t try to be funny tonight. I am so anxious to make this dinner a success.

  TOVEY (ever explanatory on this subject). My own, I don’t try to be funny; I am funny.

  MRS. TOVEY. Yes, I know you can’t help it, and I don’t mind when we are alone. But in company some of your jokes — that one about the murderess, for instance —

  TOVEY. Best of women; but even though you are that, do endeavour to be fair. She was amused by it herself.

  MRS. TOVEY. Ah, but suppose some one present had believed it!

  TOVEY (nobly). Very well. I’ll try to be dull, dear. (She has risen quickly.) Whither away?

  MRS. TOVEY. I thought I heard the bell.

  TOVEY. Can’t be anybody yet; there’s half an hour to dinner time.

  MRS. TOVEY. It is some one. And neither of us dressed!

  (She rushes off. The maid ushers in captain rattray, a naval officer, in levee dress.)

  TOVEY. How are you, Rattray?

  CAPTAIN R. How do you do, TOVEY?

  (For a moment only are they stiff and selfconscious.)

  TOVEY. Bobbin, that was!

  CAPTAIN R. Inky Paws, that used to be! (They take candid stock of each other.)

  TOVEY. A little grey at the roots.

  CAPTAIN R. Chest slipped down a bit.

  TOVEY. To think of old Bobbin blossoming into a nut!

  CAPTAIN R. I warned you I was going on to a levee and would have to come in these.

  TOVEY. We wanted you in these; in feet it was these we wanted even more than you. Remember the pillow fights, Bobbin?

  CAPTAIN R. (warmly). Rather! Do you remember you were a bit puny and how I used to fight the brutes who illused you?

  TOVEY (coldly). I don’t remember that.

  CAPTAIN R. And now I hear little Inky Paws has had the pluck to take unto him a squaw.

  TOVEY. More than you have had.

  CAPTAIN R. (reproducing the face with which he went to his first dance). They scare me as much as ever, Jack.

  TOVEY. That reminds me: do you like lamb?

  CAPTAIN R. I could eat lamb by the solid hour.

  TOVEY. Then you’ll like my wife. By the way, that explains why you come to a dinner-party half an hour before the time CAPTAIN R. (giving himself up for lost). I was asked for eight.

  TOVEY. Sure?

  CAPTAIN R. (on oath). I have your wife’s letter with me.

  TOVEY. Then you are forgiven. Her mistake. She is dressing wildly now, and if you will excuse me —

  CAPTAIN R. Don’t mind me.

  (tovey is going.)

  Stop, Jack. Who are the other guests?

  TOVEY (pondering). Let me see.

  CAPTAIN R. (shaking him). Never mind the men, tell me about the women; they are the fearsome ones.

  TOVEY. Well, we have all kinds for you, not knowing your taste. For instance, there is one dear lady who has no sense of humour.

  CAPTAIN R. (with certain memories). I am sure there is.

  TOVEY. If you want to know which one she is, try them with a funny story. Then there is one who has almost too much sense of humour. If there is anything ridiculous about you, Bobbin, as I dare say there is, she will spot it at once.

  CAPTAIN r. Oh, help; don’t put me beside that one.

  TOVEY. You would prefer the politician?

  CAPTAIN R. The what?

  TOVEY. No platform complete without them nowadays. If she drops her handkerchief and you pick it up for her there will be a riot By the way, she drops her things all over the place. You will know her by that.

  CAPTAIN R. Ancient friend, do dress quickly.

  TOVEY. YOU will be all right. Stick to the Very woman. She is one of the good old-fashioned, obedient clinging kind that our fathers knew.

  CAPTAIN R. (disbelieving). Did you say obedient, Jack?

  TOVEY. Sounds like a dream, doesn’t it? Speaking of fathers, there is a mother coming. You know, the sort of woman who is a mother and nothing else.

  CAPTAIN R. I like those simple souls.

  TOVEY. The coquette isn’t what you would call a simple soul.

  CAPTAIN R. A coquette, too?

  TOVEY. The most audacious flirt of my acquaintance.

  (CAPTAIN RATTRAY is a little complacent.)

  Why that swagger?

  CAPTAIN R. I wasn’t swaggering, but I get on rather well with that kind. Once at an India station — However.

  TOVEY. I think that completes the list. (Disregarding a recent promise) Stop, though, there is one more — a murderess.

  CAPTAIN R. None of your blarney, Jack.

  TOVEY. Don’t think I am joking. (Confidentially) Fact is, since you were last on leave the order of the day for dinners has become a celebrity at any cost CAPTAIN R. Draw the line.

  TOVEY. We don’t nowadays; life is too strenuous. You will see what deference we pay her. Why, man alive, if it had not been for you the likes of us couldn’t have got her. She had a much more exalted engagement, and broke it to meet you.