(COOPER enters, gestures “hello” to the others.)

CORKIN

Fast as we can do it, Reverend.

BROWN

We must show him at once what kind of a community this is.

CORKIN

Yes, Reverend. Come on, Phil. Hep.

(They rig the banner to halyards between the buildings.)

MRS. KREBS

Big day, Reverend.

CORKIN

Indeed it is. Picnic lunch ready, Mrs. Krebs?

MRS. KREBS

Fitt’n fer a king.

(BANNISTER, PLATT and other townspeople gather excitedly. They are colorful small-town citizens, but not caricatured rubes.)

BOLLINGER

(Running on, carrying his cornet)

Station master says old 94’s on time out of Chattanooga. And Brady’s on board all right!

COOPER

The minute Brady gets here, people gonna pour in. Town’s gonna fill up like a rain barrel in a flood.

STOREKEEPER

That means business!

(MELINDA and her mother come on and set up a lemonade stand.)

BANNISTER

Where they gonna stay? Where we gonna sleep all them people?

MRS. KREBS

They got money, we’ll sleep ’em.

PLATT

Looks like the biggest day for this town since we put up Coxey’s army!

HOWARD

(Bolting on)

Hey! Ted Finney’s got out his big bass drum. And y’oughta see what they done to the depot! Ribbons all over the rainspouts!

MELINDA

Lemonade! Lemonade!

(The workmen hoist the banner above the heads of the crowd, where it hangs for the remainder of the action. The banner blares: “READ YOUR BIBLE.”)

CORKIN

It’s all ready, Reverend.

(The townspeople applaud. BOLLINGER toots a ragged fanfare. A HAWKER in a white apron wheels on a hot-dog stand. The crowd mills about, in holiday spirit.)

HAWKER

Hot dogs! Get your red-hots! Hot dogs!

(MRS. MCCLAIN enters with a shopping bag full of frond fans.)

MRS. MCCLAIN

Get your fans. Compliments of Maley’s Funeral Home. Thirty-five cents.

(The stage is now full of eager and expectant people. MRS. BLAIR shoves her way through the crowd, looking for her son.)

MRS. BLAIR

(Calling)

Howard. Howard!

HOWARD

(Racing to her)

Hey, Ma. This is just like the county fair.

MRS. BLAIR

Now you settle down and stop runnin’ around and pay some attention when Mr. Brady gets here. Spit down your hair. (HOWARD spits in her hand, and she pastes down a cowlick) Hold still!

(HOWARD flashes off through the crowd. ELIJAH, a “holy man” from the hills, comes on with a wooden vegetable crate full of books. He is bearded, wild-haired, dressed in a tattered burlap smock. His feet are bare. He sets up shop between the hot dogs and the lemonade, with a placard reading: “WHERE WILL YOU SPEND ETERNITY?”)

ELIJAH

(In a shrill, screeching voice)

Buy a Bible! Your guidebook to eternal life!

(E. K. HORNBECK wanders on, carrying a suitcase. He is a newspaperman in his middle thirties, who sneers politely at everything, including himself. His clothes—those of a sophisticated city-dweller—contrast sharply with the attire of the townspeople. HORNBECK looks around, with wonderful contempt.)

MRS. MCCLAIN

(To HORNBECK)

Want a fan? Compliments of Maley’s Funeral Home—thirty-five cents!

HORNBECK

I’d die first.

MRS. KREBS