[Molly and Tommy have disappeared. Pinkie stands watching by the gate. Reënter Tommy alone.

PINKIE. Tommy she never said good-bye to me!

TOMMY.

Didn't she? She never was really our sort. I tell you what, Pinkie. It's a jolly good thing she's gone. She's a Grown-up.

PINKIE. O, Tommy, no!

TOMMY. She is. And now she'll marry, or some rot of that sort, and she'll be an Aunt before she can look round. You see if she isn't.

PINKIE. Of course she'll marry. So shall I. All girls do. But she won't be an Aunt!-O, Tommy, will she? (Almost in tears) O Pickle, Molly's gone away to be an Aunt! PICKLE. Well, Pinkie, Aunthood is a condition that must be faced. It might come to anybody. Besides, there are Aunts and Aunts.

[Loud voices are heard in the house. The window flies open, and Caroline and Imogen burst into the garden talking violently.

IMOGEN. No, Caroline!

CAROLINE (in gasps). Not three minutes ago - yes, quite distinctly from the schoolroom window - yes, Anne.

CAROLINE. Yes, Molly with her box - with her box-Thomas helping Anne saw them, I tell you! (Both talk at once) Good heavens! And Elvira said she was such a sweet, biddable girl, and would be no trouble, and quite good at plain sewing and parish work, and never wanted early tea in her bedroom, and

IMOGEN. Good heavens! And Timmins the butcher in the

kitchen at this moment, and she's sure to meet the fishmonger and Mrs. Dobson down the road; and now it will be all over the place that our niece

[Caroline sees and pounces upon the telegram.

CAROLINE. Ah, a telegram! A clue!"At the station, twelve-thirty, George." Imogen, my bonnet! Your hat! (As Imogen flies into the house) There is no train till twelveforty-five! We shall come up with them!

[Snatches hat from the returning Imogen and rushes for the gate. Imogen claps on bonnet, discovers strings and dashes after Caroline, shouting.

IMOGEN. Caroline! Caroline! You've got my hat! - I've got your Caroline!

[Her voice dies away down the lane.

THE CHILDREN (amazed). But what's the matter with them? What's it all about?

PICKLE. This is what is called the Love Interest, my dears. Now the story is going to begin.

[The elfin Chorus of Farewell swells up again as the Fairies fade slowly away into the wood.

CHORUS

Ah, ye to-day

Whose hearts are young,

Who speak the tongue

Of babe and fay,

Ye have not flung

Your wings away.

Those wings have fanned
That space apart

Set on no chart

By mortal hand;

The Young of Heart
Hold Fairyland!

[During the chorus Uncle Gregory drops his paper and sleeps profoundly. Tommy gazes moodily at him, his hands in his pockets. Pinkie walks thoughtfully towards the house and disappears through the window. As the Fairy Voices die away, her five-finger exercises recommence with great vigour, and the curtain falls.

THE END

ABOUT PUNCH AND JUDY

Of all the plays I ever saw,

There's none like Punch and Judy;

The utter disregard for law
Is far from goody-goody.

The roguish eyes, the beaked nose,
The funny cap and goggles,
The way Punch relishes his blows,
The way his wife he joggles, -

It takes me back to days of old

When Punch and Judy, maybe,
Were not so rough, and did not scold,
And also had no baby;

When Punch from Italy first came
To English Will and Mary,
When he had won no British fame,
And was not so contrary;

When Punch's face had no such smile
As later marked the fellow
When he was not so full of guile,
But more like Pulcinello.

'Twas then, to please the common folk
With manners none to brag on
He swapped his manners for a joke,
A theater for a wagon.

He traveled through the British Isles,
With squeaky tones most roistrous,
His nose and chin both touched in smiles
And he became quite boistrous.