The play is set in
an ornate ballroom somewhere in Europe, sometime in the late nineteenth
century. The vast mirrored room is
swarming with glittering men and floral women. An orchestra is playing madly. Two young men—Lionel Watchmore and Colonel William
Fitzpowder—are standing together, watching a particularly comely young woman being
whirled through the room by a dashing but nameless Prussian army officer.
Watchmore:
Who is she?
Fitzpowder:
I don’t know. She is
ravishing. A branch of wisteria! A puff of talcum powder!
Watchmore:
A ripe fig. A pine cone! A pinprick!
[The Prussian
officer waltzes the young woman past the two admiring men. They call out to her in anguish as she
floats by]
Watchmore and
Fitzpowder in unison: Speak to us, Pretty Matchbox!!
[The couple pause,
stop dancing, and walk over to Watchmore and Fitzpowder]
Nameless
Prussian Officer: Did you hail us, sparkling but probably
callow gentlemen?
Watchmore: Assuredly we did, young ramrod! We wish to relieve you, temporarily, of the Living Corsage
you have been so determinedly steering round the floor.
Nameless
Prussian Officer: I take it you are referring to Miss
Winesap here? Miss Ida Winesap?
Fitzpowder:
Evidently so.
Nameless
Prussian Officer: Well, you glossy swells, I hate to be
the bearer of disappointing tidings, but you see Miss Winesap here, is not
real.
Watchmore (astounded): Not real??
Nameless
Prusssian Officer: That’s right. I built her myself! [he turns to Miss Winesap] Say good evening, Pretty Pelt! [he pulls the pretty figure
forward and, by placing his hand at the back of her neck, causes her to nod her head stiffly]
Watchmore and
Fitzpowder (even more astounded):
Extraordinary!
Nameless
Prussian Officer
(coolly): Oh not so very. Not when you know how.
Fitzpowder (admiringly): You must know a lot about girls?
Nameless
Prussian Officer
(modestly): Just how to build
them.
Watchmore (shyly): Where can we get one?
Nameless
Prussian Officer
(heartily): Nothing could be easier!
I not only make them, I sell them! I
am a wealthy landowner, you see, and my wealthy landholdings are greatly given
over to apple orchards.
Consequently I manufacture apple products—apple juice, cider,
applesauce, that sort of thing.
Fitzpowder (intrigued): But the beautiful Miss Winesap?
Nameless
Prussian Officer
(cooly): She is also an apple.
Fitzpowder and
Watchmore
(astounded): An apple?
Nameless
Prussian Officer: Well, an
apple doll. She’s an apple doll.
Watchmore (impressed): She’s an awfully big one!
Nameless
Prussian Office
(offhandedly): Well, the winters are long.
Fitzpowder (eager): How can we buy one?
I mean her. I mean one.
Nameless
Prussian Officer: Meet me in the foyer later.
[turns gallantly
to the so cunningly fabricated Miss
Winesap] Bid the two
gentlemen good night, dear sack of gold dust!
[he reaches behind
her head and causes it to nod again on its bright milky shoulders. He then adopts a flute-y falsetto voice
and, speaking as Miss Winesap, addresses the two eager purchasers]: I bid you goodnight, needful gallants!
Watchmore and
Fitzpowder in unison
(turning to Miss Winesap):
Goodnight, fair parcel!
(curtain)
