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)
