The Nervous Guy
by IRENE ADCOCK
illustrated by Conrad Frieboe

This play will be twice as much fun to act and to watch if the guy is dressed up. You can make him a sacking suit, and perhaps 
you can borrow an old waistcoat. Give him a red face (but be careful to use something that will come off easily), and make him 
some hair out of untwisted rope. Don't forget the bow tie.

PEOPLE IN THE PLAY  
BOB 	 GUY 	 VALERIE  	MR NODDY
SCENE I. The washhouse of BOB and VALERIE'S home.  The children are trying to open a large tin trunk.
VAL. The guy is in here, but I can't make the key turn.
BOB. Let me try. We must get him out. It will save making a new one.
VAL. Yes. Last year I was sorry when we couldn't take him on the bus with 
us to Uncle Harry's Guy Fawkes party;
but I'm glad now.
BOB. Ah, that's got it! [He lifts lid.] It's very stiff though.
GUY [sitting up suddenly]. It's no stiffer than I am. I doubt if I'll be 
able to stand after spending a year cramped among
these books.
The two children start back in surprise.
VAL. G-goodness! He can speak. BOB. Are you sure it was him? GUY 
[crossly]. Of course it was me! Don't just
stand there staring. Aren't you going to help me out? BOB. Er -certainly. 
[They pull him out.] GUY. Thank you. I'm
afraid my stuffing seems to have gone into a bunch in the middle. Would you straighten it, please?
They pat him into better shape.
GUY. Thank you. Now if I had a couple of sticks pushed into the backs of my 
knees where they are tied with string,
I might be able to stand alone.
VAL. I know! I'll get the rulers from our school-bags. There, that's better.
GUY [taking some jerky steps]. Thank you. That's fine. I'd be as good as 
new if I only had a pipe.
BOB [eagerly]. We've got some crackers. You could have one of those for a 
cigarette.
GUY [alarmed]. Crackers! Oh, dear! Horrible, noisy things! I think I had 
better get back into my trunk.
VAL. You shouldn't have said that, Bob. Poor Guy, don't be afraid. You 
needn't have a cracker. Here's an old bubble
pipe instead. [Puts it in his mouth.] There now, you look like a real guy.
GUY. I am a real guy [Straightens his bow tie.] It's a pity more people 
can't see me. Come to think of it, I'd like an
airing after being so long in a trunk.
BOB. I wish we could take you out, but my trolley has one of the wheels off.
GUY. Who said anything about a trolley? I can walk - or don't you think I 
walk well enough?
VAL. He can walk, Bob, and I'm sure Mr Noddy would love to see him. [TO 
GUY] Mr Noddy is a blacksmith friend of ours. It's not far to his place.
BOB. I'll take your arm if you like, Guy.
GUY. No, thank you. I don't need help.
VAL [watching him wobbling about]. Oh, dear! I'm sure he'll fall. I know, 
he can use this old walking-stick.
 [Takes walking-stick from corner.] Here, Guy. Try using this.
GUY. Splendid! Splendid! Now, if you two are ready, lead the way.
CURTAIN
SCENE II. Outside the smithy. MR NODDY, wearing a leather apron, comes to 
the door as BOB and VALERIE
approach with GUY.
VAL. Hullo, Mr Noddy.
BOB. We've brought our guy to see you.
MR NODDY. Well, if that doesn't beat everything! I've never seen a walking 
guy before.
VAL. He can speak, too.  Say good afternoon to Mr Noddy, Guy.
BOB.
GUY. Good afternoon, Mr Noddy.
MR NODDY. Fancy that now! Good-day to you, sir. Come and sit on this form, 
children, and I'll fetch some milk and
gingerbread. How about Guy Fawkes? Can he sit down?
GUY. I'll just prop against the wall, thank you.
MR NODDY. Yes, that's right. You'd better not go inside. The fire is very 
hot this afternoon. It would burn you up in a
jiffy. I'll not put any more coal on so that there'll be no more sparks. 
[Feels Guy] You're so dry that one spark would
be enough to set you alight.
He goes inside.
GUY. Sparks! A fire! Oh dear, I think I had better go back to my old tin 
trunk.
He moves away.
VAL. It's all right, Guy. Didn't you hear Mr Noddy say that he wouldn't put 
any more coal on?
BOB [taking GUY's arm]. Come and rest, old chap. We'll take care of you. 
[Props him against wall.]
MR NODDY [coming back with plate and handing cakes to Val and Bob]. Will 
you have gingerbread, Guy, or would
you rather have something else?
GUY. Well, I'd be very thankful for a bit of hay pushed down into my 
waistcoat. My inside seems to have dropped a
little with walking.
MR NODDY. Certainly, there's some hay in the back paddock.
He goes through smithy. GUY waits a moment or two. Then he slips quietly 
away to hide behind a tree. BOB and VAL, busily eating cake, do not miss him.
MR NODDY [coming back]. Here we are! Why, where is he? He's gone!
BOB. So he has! Hey, Guy, where are you?
VAL. Guy, do come back.
MR NODDY. I hope he hasn't fallen into the fire.
VAL. Oh don't please, Mr Noddy!
BOB. Let's all call together. [They shout, "Guy! Guy Fawkes!" Guy comes 
slowly out of hiding.]
GUY [tearfully]. I heard you the first time. I only came out now because I 
didn't want to worry you.
VAL. But what's the matter, Guy? Why did you hide?
GUY. I'm too frightened to go home. I mightn't get home at all. You see, 
I'm such a beautiful guy. Everyone looked at
me as I came, and they might try to steal me on the way back. Then they'd 
burn me. I know you wouldn't, would
you?
BOB. Well, we had thought -
VAL. Sh, Bob! No, of course, we won't burn you, Guy - not now that we know 
you.
MR NODDY. It would be a pity to burn a grand fellow like that.
GUY. But people do burn guys. Even if I were to get home, someone might 
creep in at dead of night and take me
from my trunk. I've read about things like that in some of the books I 
was packed with. There were some very
frightening books in my trunk!
VAL. Oh, but you mustn't take any notice of those. They were only stories.
BOB. Besides, we lock our doors every night.
GUY. All the same, I don't feel safe so close to Guy Fawkes Day. I've got 
a nasty feeling inside. Perhaps if I walk
around for a bit I'll be better. [He walks towards horse-trough at side of 
smithy.]
MR NODDY. I expect he is feeling faint. The cool air will do him good.
GUY leans over horse-trough.
VAL. Don't drink that water, Guy. If you are thirsty, Mr Noddy will give 
you some from his tap.
GUY. I'm not drinking it, I'm looking at myself in it. I haven't seen a 
mirror for a long time. There wasn't one in my
trunk.
BOB. Well, don't lean over too far. There, he has fallen in.
The children run to drag him out. GUY flops about, gurgling and puffing.
VAL [feeling his clothes]. His stuffing has gone right down to his knees, and he's terribly wet, I'm afraid.
GUY [shaking himself]. I-I'm not- not a bit -
BOB. You're not what?
Guy. I'm not afraid. Not any longer. No one can burn me now. I'm much too 
wet. I'll never dry in time for tomorrow.
MR NODDY [laughing]. You certainly won't.
BOB. No, he won't; but if we hang him upside-down on the clothes-line he 
will dry, in time, and his stuffing will slip
back into place.
VAL. Would you mind being hung on the line, Guy?
GUY [happily]. No, I should like that nearly as much as being in my tin 
trunk. Where is my walking-stick? Let's go.
BOB. We must say good-bye to Mr Noddy.
GUY. Goodbye Mr Noddy.
BOB. Thank you for the milk. 	together
VAL. Goodbye. 
Good-bye, Mr Noddy.
Thank you for the milk.
Good-bye.
MR NODDY. Good-bye, Guy, old chap.
He watches the children walk away, each holding an arm of the sagging Guy Fawkes.

The Lazy Ones
illustrated by Nan Reid

PEOPLE IN THE PLAY
BEEKEEPER 		STRANGER 		HANS 		JOAN
HANS is a lazy fellow. He has nothing in all the world to do but to drive his goats to the fields every day, and yet when he comes 
home at night to his old wife JOAN, who is just as lazy as her good-for-nothing husband, HANS does nothing but sigh and 
groan.
HANS [outside the door]. Are you there, wife Joan? JOAN. Yes, here I am, Hans. What is it? HANS. Open 
the door
for me. I'm tired and worn. JOAN. Tired? You're not too tired to push open the door with your foot.
HANS [kicking it open]. Oh, very well - there! Put the chair in front of the 
fire, Joan; and where are my slippers?
JOAN. They're where you left them, beside the hearth. What makes you so 
tired?
HANS. Oh, my work's too heavy. I have to take the goats to the fields every 
day from early spring, through the hot
summer, and right into the late autumn. If I could only lie down and sleep 
when I'm doing it. But no, I must keep my
eyes open all the time, to see that the goats won't run away.
JOAN Rest! You do nothing but rest, while I'm the one who stays at home to 
cook your meals, and make the beds.
Sometimes I must even tidy the house. Hans, I'd much rather tend the goats 
than spend my days in the house.
HANS. Then, wife, suppose you tend the goats, while I mind the house.
JOAN. Very well, Hans, and we'll see who tires first.
The next day they exchange tasks. JOAN watches the goats while HANS stays 
at home.
HANS [yawning]. Ah! This is the life for a tired man. What a long, long 
sleep I've enjoyed to-day. Five o'clock, and I'm
just awake. Well, perhaps I'd better go out now, to help Joan with the 
goats. I'll sleep better to-night if I do. Oh, it's
too late. I can hear her coming back.
JOAN [from outside]. Hans! Hans! Open the door!
HANS. But I'm just awake, Joan.
JOAN. Oh, all right. I'll push it open myself. [She kicks it open and lies 
down.] Oh, how tired I am.
HANS. You find it hard, wife, herding the goats?
JOAN. It is tiring, Hans, but I've been thinking, up there on the hill.
HANS. Thinking?
JOAN. Thinking! Hans, why should we waste our lives working, when we don't 
need to? Those goats wake us in the
morning with their bleating, and we have to watch them all day long. 
Wouldn't it be better if we gave them to our
neighbour, and took one of his beehives in exchange? We could put the hive 
in a sunny place behind the house, and
leave it there while we sleep.
HANS. Wife, you are a wise woman. I'll go to see our neighbour at 
once -well, in a few minutes, that is. Honey is very good for you. Besides, it tastes better than goats' milk, and keeps better, too. 
It never gets sour.
JOAN. I thought you'd like my idea, so I left the goats by the neighbour's 
gate. It seemed such a long way to bring
them home. He was standing close by, so I told him to come over and see you 
about it. He'll be here any minute
now. Will you talk to him, Hans? I'm so tired.
HANS. Don't worry, Joan. I'll make a good bargain. [There is a knock at the 
door.] Here he is now. Come in!
BEEKEEPER. Good evening! I've come to see you about the goats. Your wife 
asked me to . . .
HANS. Yes. We've both had enough of goats. Not that they're not very good 
animals. They're well behaved and they
give lots of milk, but it's just that - well, we both felt we'd like a change. And knowing what an honest man you are, we thought 
perhaps that you'd exchange a hive of bees for the goats.
BEEKEEPER. That would suit me very well. I have a great number of bees, 
and I could do with some goats . Would
you like to come over with me and see the hives?
HANS. Oh, no, that's all right. I can take your word for it that the hive 
is a good one.
BEEKEEPER. All my hives are good.
HANS. Very well, then. You bring us the hive. I'm a little tired this 
evening, you see.
BEEKEEPER. Yes, I can see that. I'll bring you the hive tomorrow morning.
HANS. Excellent! We'll wait here for you. Just leave it outside the door, 
if we don't happen to be up.
BEEKEEPER. Certainly. There's one thing about bees - they can get their own 
breakfast.
HANS. Yes, we've thought of that. Do you mind letting yourself out?
BEEKEEPER. No, not a bit. Good evening!
HANS. Good evening!
For several weeks the lazy pair slept most of their time.
JOAN. Ah! Life is very sweet, Hans. Every day our jar is filled with 
honey, and we can rest.
HANS. Yes. But that buzzing often wakes us.
JOAN. Yes, it does. Hans, we have quite a large store of honey in the big 
stone jar. Why not sell the bees?
HANS. Why not, indeed. You are a very clever woman, Joan. We'll have a good 
sleep to-day, and tomorrow we'll sell
the bees to the first person who passes our door, and with the money we'll 
buy a beautiful new mattress. Then life will
be easy! The next morning, JOAN woke HANS early. JOAN. Hans! Hans! Get up! 
I can see a man passing the gate.
HANS. What? Where? Oh, yes. Ho there! STRANGER. Are you calling me? HANS. 
Would you like to buy a hive of
bees? STRANGER. Well, I hadn't thought – 
HANS. Now's the time for you to think. A hive of bees! They'll work all day for you, and you'll have nothing to do but to collect 
their honey. 
STRANGER. Well, show me the hive, and I can see for myself if they're as busy as you say.
HANS. I'll come down at once and show you the hive. [He goes out.]
JOAN. Oh, I hope he takes them away. I can't stand their busy buzzing noise another day.
HANS comes back rubbing his hands.
HANS. There you are, my dear. Another good bargain. The bees are sold, and their new owner will have the mattress sent out to 
us tomorrow.
JOAN. How peaceful our life will be now, Hans. Now it will be easy to sleep.
HANS. But, Joan, while we sleep, someone might steal our honey. Perhaps you should stay awake and watch
JOAN. Stay awake! But, Hans, that's why we sold the goats and the bees, so that sleep would be easy. No, Hans
[yawning], I shall keep a strong stick beside my bed. Here's the broken broom handle. That will be just right. Then, if
a thief comes - 
HANS. What will you do, Joan?
JOAN. See, this is what I'll do. I'll pick up the handle - like this . . . and I'll lift it up over my head - like this … and I'll thwack 
him on the head - like this - [Crash!]
HANS. Joan! Look what you've done!
JOAN. The honey jar! Hans! And it was all we had left!
CURTAIN

The Dragon Who Liked Cake
by FREDA COLLINS illustrated by NAN REID

PEOPLE IN THE PLAY
THE KING 			THE PAGE
THE QUEEN 			THE MAGICIAN
THE PRINCESS 		A LADY-IN-WAITING
THREE WISE MEN		 THE DRAGON
SCENE I
The court room of the King's Palace. The King and Queen are sitting on 
their throne. A Lady-in-Waiting, holding a large birthday cake, stands in front of them. Three Wise Men are sitting on the floor, 
all reading from large, heavy books. A Page sits cross-legged on a cushion nearby.
KING. My dear wife, this is no time to be bothering about birthday cakes. 
Don't you know that there is an enormous
dragon outside the city walls, puffing out little puffs of smoke and 
flames of fire? He can't get in, but we can't get out.
Isn't there anyone who can think of a way to get rid of him?
FIRST WISE MAN. I'm very sorry, Your Majesty, but this is the first 
Really Dangerous Dragon I have seen.
SECOND WISE MAN. This book doesn't even mention dragons.
THIRD WISE MAN. If Your Majesty will wait until I have read this book ...
KING. Of course  I can't wait. Someone, send for the Magician at once.
The PAGE runs off the stage, and returns followed by the MAGICIAN, who 
bows to the KING.
KING. Well, Magician, have you thought of a way to get rid of the Dragon?
MAGICIAN. Eena Meena Mina Mo,
Eena Meena Mina Mo, Eena Meena Mina Mo,
Eena Meena Mina Mo!
QUEEN. Have you thought of a way to get rid of the Dragon?
MAGICIAN. Eena Meena Mina, Mo,
Eena Meena Mina Mo!
EVERYONE [shouting together]. Have you thought of a way to get rid of the 
Dragon?
MAGICIAN. Eena Meena Mina, Mo,
The answer, I'm afraid, is - No!
The KING seizes the PAGE'S cushion, and throws it at the head of the 
MAGICIAN, who scuttles off the stage.
KING. Unless someone can think of a way to get rid of the Dragon, we shall all starve.
PAGE. I know how to send a dragon away; I read it in a book of Very Old 
Fairy Tales.
KING. Well, then, why didn't you tell us before?
PAGE. Because you won't like it.
KING. I shan't mind, whatever it is.
PAGE. You won't cut off my head?
QUEEN. Oh, no, no, no! What a horrid idea!
PAGE. Well, in every Very Old Fairy Tale the Princess must be sent out 
alone for the Dragon to eat her up.
EVERYONE [except the KING]. We can't do that.
KING. It's a pity but, if we must do it, we must.
QUEEN. Poor Princess, she will be so disappointed. Here is her birthday cake with eleven candles on it. [She weeps.]
KING. My dear, please don't cry. [He weeps.]
EVERYONE. Your Majesties, please don't cry.
EVERYONE weeps loudly, just as the PRINCESS runs in.
PRINCESS. Whatever is the matter?
KING. My dear child!
QUEEN. My dear, here is your birthday cake.
PRINCESS. I know. I peeped into the pantry and saw it yesterday. Tell me, what is the matter?
KING [to PAGE]. You'd better tell her.
PAGE [kneeling]. Princess, alas! You must go alone outside the city wall, where the Dragon is puffing out little puffs of smoke 
and flames of fire, and you must let him eat you up.
PRINCESS. Oh, no, no, no! I can't do that!
KING. Never mind. It won't take long. Princesses must be brave, if they want to save their people.
QUEEN. It's quite the usual thing, my dear, and part of your training as a Princess.
KING. It happens in all the Very Old Fairy Tales.
PAGE. Princess, I'll go with you.
KING. You can't. You said that she must go alone.
PRINCESS. Well, may I take my birthday cake with me?
KING. Of course you may.
PRINCESS. Then, to save you all, I will go.
EVERYONE. Long live the Princess!
SCENE II
All the people of the town, as well as the QUEEN and her ladies, and the 
WISE MEN, and the MAGICIAN, and the
PAGE, hang over the city wall, and watch the PRINCESS meet the DRAGON. At 
the gate the PRINCESS, who is
carrying her birthday cake, with all the candles lighted, stops suddenly, 
and the KING has to push her out.
PRINCESS. Oh dear, oh dear! What shall I do? I don't want to be eaten a 
bit! Good-good morning, Mr D-Dragon. Would you like my pink sash? It's a new one, because it's my birthday.
She throws the DRAGON her sash, and the DRAGON at once
puts one great paw over it. 
PRINCESS. Oh dear, perhaps dragons don't like sashes. He has stamped on it. 
He is coming closer. He must want
something. I'll give you my crown, Mr Dragon, if only you won't eat me up.
She throws down her crown, and the DRAGON puts another paw on it.
PRINCESS [sadly]. No, he doesn't want a crown, either. I wonder if he has 
ever tasted birthday cake? Here you are Mr Dragon, just try this.
She breaks off a large piece of the cake, and throws it to him. The DRAGON pounces on it at once, and begins to gobble it up 
very quickly.
PRINCESS. He likes it! Look, everyone, dragons like birthday cake!
DRAGON [with his mouth full]. Of course I like it. I only came here to see if I could find some cake. Once I used to live on a 
cake mountain.
PRINCESS. How funny!
DRAGON. Not at all funny. I used to have cake for breakfast,
cake for lunch, cake for dinner, and cake for every other
meal.
PRINCESS. And why did you leave the cake mountain?
DRAGON. Because, after hundreds of years, there wasn't any
cake mountain left. I had eaten it away. Since then I've
been searching the world for cake. May I have some more
of that cake?
PRINCESS. Of course, you can have it all. But don't burn
your mouth on the candles.
DRAGON. Candles are nothing to me. I've eaten so many
birthday cake candles that my breath has become a little
fiery. Perhaps you've noticed it.
PRINCESS. I have!
DRAGON. Have you any more cake?
PRINCESS. No; but the cook can easily make some more. Mr
Dragon, I have a wonderful idea! Come home with me
now, and be my pet dragon, and you shall have birthday
cake every day of your life.
DRAGON. With candles on it?
PRINCESS. Of course, with candles.
DRAGON. All right. I'm tired of wandering about the world.
PRINCESS. And you won't eat anyone up? DRAGON. Of course not; I never eat 
people.
The PRINCESS picks up her sash and ties it round the DRAGON's neck. Then 
she puts her crown on the DRAGON's head.
PRINCESS. Come along, dear Mr Dragon. Look everyone! You can come down from 
the wall now. Mr Dragon is coming to live with us.
CURTAIN

The Bad Old Man
By Elizabeth Fleming	
Illustrated by Mary Ferguson

PEOPLE IN THE PLAY
MOTHER	GIRL		JOHN		OLD MAN
Scene I
The front of a low white-washed cottage, with an open door. The audience can see the inside of a kitchen with a big open hearth. 
A GIRL is sitting on the doorstep turning a hand churn. She is pretty and dressed in a country fashion. Her MOTHER is in the
background, propping scones against the fender to toast.
GIRL. Turn, cream, turn, and butter fill the churn, Golden-sweet, and good to 
Eat - Turn, cream, turn - turn, cream, turn. I wish
this butter would be quick - it seems to take so long; It should be showing 
yellow now - I wonder what is wrong?
MOTHER [coming to door]. Old Meg who passed a while ago was looking 
pretty sly, I fear no butter will be good That
came beneath her eye.... But churn a little longer yet, And when my 
baking's through, I'll take the handle for a while
And see what I can do.
GIRL.
There's someone coming up the road, A queer old man is he
He wears a cloak so wide and long it's down below his knee - A beggar-man, 
all bowed and bent, I've never seen before,
With beard and whiskers white as snow - He's nearly at the door.
MOTHER.
We've had enough of beggar-folk With Meg already by; We cannot give to 
everyone However much we try. Be quick,
and cover up the churn Before he sees it there; I'll keep my baking out 
of sight - We've got no food to spare.
GIRL throws her apron over the churn just as the OLD MAN appears, leaning 
on a long stick.
OLD MAN.
Good-morning, dame, good-morning girl, Have you a bite to give A poor old 
man who has no friends, Nor anywhere to
live?
MOTHER.
We have no food to give away;
So empty is the house.
There's scarce enough of crust or crumb
To feed a hungry mouse.
OLD MAN.
Then what's that yonder by the fire?
I see a new-made scone.
MOTHER.
Nay, what you see are only stones
To rest the saucepan on.
OLD MAN.
Give me a drink of buttermilk
If I can have no bread.
GIRL.
This is no buttermilk, Old Man,
But swill for pigs instead.
OLD MAN.
Then have you got a pair of shoes
To spare my weary soles?
GIRL.
The only shoes we have are worn
And fallen into holes.
OLD MAN.
Then have you any pence to spare
A poor old man today?
MOTHER.
Indeed we've nothing here to give,
So cease your begging, pray.
OLD MAN.
I go, hard mistress, but ere long
I shall return again,
And what you do not give me now
You may give gladly then.
He disappears. The MOTHER and the GIRL look a little scared. There is a sound of  whistling, and a good-looking young Pedlar 
enters, pack on back; he takes off his cap, lowers his pack, and opens it out.
JOHN.
Cheapjack  John, a pedlar I, Bringing goods for you to buy; Ribbons, 
bobbins, bits of lace. Caps to suit a pretty face;
Brooches, earrings, try them on, Come and buy from Cheapjack John. 
Good-morning, mistresses, to you - What can I sell today? A basket, brushes, combs, or pins? Or 'kerchiefs fine and gay?
MOTHER.
I fear we have no money, lad, For trifles such as these.
JOHN.
Give me a drink and you shall choose Whatever thing you please;
A cup of water, or maybe,
A taste of buttermilk, And you shall have a brooch or ring, Or 
handkerchief of silk.
GIRL.
Oh- oh- how fine; a moment, then
[She dips a cup in the churn.] Fresh-churned - see, here it is.
JOHN.
My thanks. Good health to all this house. Preserve us - what is this?
[He splutters and throws milk away.]
GIRL.
Why, what's the matter with the milk?
JOHN.
Indeed it tastes so bad It can't be buttermilk at all.
MOTHER.
It's new from churning, lad.
JOHN.
Try it yourself, then you'll see That what I say is true.
GIRL.
I will then - Oh! indeed you're right - Such stuff I never knew; It tastes 
like pig-swill, so it does - How could it turn so queer?
MOTHER.
That bad old man who came before Has done this, never fear.
[She turns to JOHN.]
I'm sorry, lad, to treat you so.
JOHN.
Nay, mistress, never mind; I'll have a scone from you instead. If you will 
be so kind.
MOTHER.
Aye, that you shall - and here it is - New-baking of my own.
JOHN.
I thank you, mistress - Oh, my teeth! What is this, wife? A stone?
MOTHER.
A stone, indeed ? Best barley-meal, And milk together stirred - And yet you 
dare to talk of stones - What cheek, upon my word!
JOHN.
Your pardon, mistress, but my tooth Near broke upon the bite; Pray try it, 
and you'll see yourself [She tries the scone.]
MOTHER.
I will, then-aye, you're right; As hard as flint-what made it thus? Indeed 
I do not know.
[She turns aside to the GIRL.]
It's very strange-that bad old man - That he should treat us so.
GIRL.
Oh dear, oh dear.
JOHN.
Nay, do not cry.
[He brings out a music box.] See, here's a pretty toy; A music-box. Come, 
dance, and turn Those tears to tears of joy.
GIRL.
Oh, gladly I will dance with you, But wait-my feet are bare; I'll go and 
get my Sunday shoes So fine and light to wear.
She goes into the house, and a cry is heard. She returns holding out 
shoes full of holes.
My lovely shoes - my Sunday shoes I left as good as new, And see them 
Now - all torn and worn - Oh, what am I to do?
MOTHER.
Indeed it seems a wicked spell Has fallen on us here.
JOHN.
Without the shoes your pretty feet Will dance as well, my dear. Come, dry 
your eyes, and take my hand And now,
beside the door, We'll do a jig as quick and gay As any danced before....
He starts the music and they jig together, the MOTHER looking on
Ah, that was grand.
GIRL
It was, indeed.
MOTHER.
'Twas beautiful to see.
GIRL.
The music did it - will you sell That music box to me?
JOHN.
Of course I will - with all my heart.
GIRL.
Wait now - I'll get my purse.
She turns her back to get at a pocket in her petticoat.  She turns again 
and opens the purse.
How much? [Shrieks.] Oh, mercy!
MOTHER.
Is it spent?
GIRL.
Oh, worse and worse and worse - I had both gold and silver, too, And now 
there's nothing there, But little bits of withered leaves - it's wicked I declare.
MOTHER.
That bad old man - that crafty wretch, When he comes back this way
And shows his ugly face to me He'll surely rue the day.
JOHN.
Whisht-whisht, and tell me, both of you, What all these riddles mean; I've 
never known such goings-on In any place I've been.
MOTHER.
A beggar-man came by today, And him we did refuse A drink of milk, a crust 
of bread, And then a pair of shoes; And
after that, some money, for We'd none of these to spare For any passing 
stranger-folk Who came a-begging there.
GIRL.
And now The milk is sour, the scones are hard. The shoes are all in holes, 
The money turned to withered leaves
MOTHER.
And we, ourselves, poor souls, Are frightened of all beggar-folk. We didn't 
know, not we,
How very, very bad indeed This beggar-man could be.
JOHN.
He must be someone from the hills, I've heard of them before, Who come and 
try their cunning spells At any cottage
door. You need not be afraid of him, I've something in this pack To put the 
rascal in his place If he should venture back.
[He turns to the GIRL.]
Look, when he comes and asks for milk
[He gives her a little bottle.]
Drop this within the cup, And we shall have him caught as soon As he has 
drunk it up.
GIRL. See, there he is - he's coming now
JOHN.
Remember what I say - I'll hide myself behind the door In case he turns away.
He and the MOTHER hide inside the house.
The OLD MAN appears, and leers at the GIRL.
OLD MAN.
Well, mistress, have you now some food A poor old man may share?
GIRL.  [She speaks coldly.]
The milk was brought an hour ago, And there's a cup to spare.
[She fetches a cup.]
OLD MAN.
Aha - I thought you'd change your mind - My spell has done the trick; Good luck to me from all this house
[He drinks and falls on the doorstep.]
GIRL.
Oh, come - he's fallen - quick!
She stands staring, her hand to her mouth.
The MOTHER and JOHN rush out.
MOTHER.
Oh dear - oh dear - what have you done? The beggar-man is dead.
JOHN.
Nay, nay, he's not - now do you see This piece of scarlet thread? I'll take his little finger - thus - 
And tie it tightly - so.
[He speaks to the OLD MAN.]
Now, beggar, what is in that cup?
OLD MAN.
Pig-swill.
JOHN.
Pull, thread.
OLD MAN.
Oh! Oh! It's butter in the churn.
JOHN.
And what beside the fire?
OLD MAN.
They're stones.
JOHN.
Pull, thread.
OLD MAN.
Oh! Oh! They're scones.
JOHN.
That's just what I require; And now these shoes that were like new - Pray 
make them fine once more.
OLD MAN.
I can't.
JOHN.
Pull, thread.
OLD MAN.
Oh! Oh! It's done.
JOHN.
Right as they were before. This purse you left with withered leaves, Now 
fill it full of gold.
OLD MAN.
No, no. I won't.
JOHN.
Pull, thread. He's done as he was told. And now to wake him from the 
Spell - I'll fling this on the coal; His precious stick - he'd rise from death To keep it safe and whole.
He throws the stick on the hearth; the beggar springs up; he screams.
OLD MAN.
Who snatched my magic crook away? Indeed it shall not burn. Saved - now I 
leave this mortal earth,, And nevermore return.
[He disappears.]
JOHN.
Farewell - good riddance, too, say I.
MOTHER.
I'm thankful he's away. All, all we have is yours, my lad, For what you've 
done this day.
GIRL.
Ah, yes, indeed, what could we do Against his wicked will? Who would have thought such fearful folk Could come about us 
still. How did you beat his crafty ways? 
JOHN. Ah, never mind that now; He's gone with all his wickedness,
It doesn't matter how. I've got a spell or two, myself, But none of any harm; A few I keep for folk 
like him, And some I
keep to charm. He starts up the music-box which plays another jig. Then he holds out his arms and 
sings.
Here, lass, come on and dance with me; We'll do our jig again, Come on, come on, with Cheapjack John 
Who beats
the beggar-men.
They laugh, and dance gaily together, while the mother beams and counts her gold pieces.
CURTAIN

