Then do something! Show some interest. Do something lively: sing!

CORNELIUS:

I can’t sing, really I can’t.

MRS. MOLLOY:

We’re wasting our time, Minnie. They don’t want us.

CORNELIUS:

Barnaby, what can you sing? Mrs. Molloy, all we know are sad songs.

MRS. MOLLOY:

That doesn’t matter. If you want us to go out with you, you’ve got to sing something.

All this has been very rapid; the boys turn up to counter, put their heads together, confer and abruptly turn, stand stiffly and sing “Tenting tonight; tenting tonight; tenting on the old camp ground.” The four of them now repeat the refrain, softly harmonizing.

At the end of the song, after a pause, MRS. MOLLOY, moved, says:

MRS. MOLLOY:

We’ll come!

The boys shout joyfully.

You boys go ahead.

CORNELIUS gets his hat from counter; as he puts it on he discovers the flowers on it. BARNABY gets his hat from window. They go out whistling.

MINNIE turns and puts her hat on at the mirror.

Minnie, get the front door key—I’ll lock the workroom.

MRS. MOLLOY goes to workroom.

MINNIE takes key from hook left of wardrobe and goes to Mrs. Molloy, at the workroom door. She turns her around.

MINNIE:

Why, Mrs. Molloy, you’re crying!

MRS. MOLLOY flings her arms round Minnie.

MRS. MOLLOY:

Oh, Minnie, the world is full of wonderful things. Watch me, dear, and tell me if my petticoat’s showing.

She crosses to door, followed by MINNIE, as—

THE

CURTAIN

FALLS

Act III

Veranda at the Harmonia Gardens Restaurant on the Battery, New York.

This room is informal and rustic. The main restaurant is indicated to be off stage back right.

There are three entrances: swinging double doors at the center of the back wall leading to the kitchen; one on the right wall (perhaps up a few steps and flanked by potted palms) to the street; one on the left wall to the staircase leading to the rooms above.

On the stage are two tables, left and right, each with four chairs. It is now afternoon and they are not yet set for dinner.

Against the back wall is a large folding screen. Also against the back wall are hat and coat racks.

As the curtain rises, VANDERGELDER is standing, giving orders to RUDOLPH, a waiter. MALACHI STACK sits at table left.

VANDERGELDER:

Now, hear what I say. I don’t want you to make any mistakes. I want a table for three.

RUDOLPH:

Tall “snob” waiter, alternating between cold superiority and rage. German accent.

For three.

VANDERGELDER:

There’ll be two ladies and myself.

MALACHI:

It’s a bad combination, Mr. Vandergelder. You’ll regret it.

VANDERGELDER:

And I want a chicken.

MALACHI:

A chicken! You’ll regret it.

VANDERGELDER:

Hold your tongue. Write it down: chicken.

RUDOLPH:

Yes, sir. Chicken Esterhazy? Chicken cacciatore? Chicken à la crème—?

VANDERGELDER:

Exploding.

A chicken! A chicken like everybody else has. And with the chicken I want a bottle of wine.

RUDOLPH:

Moselle? Chablis? Vouvray?

MALACHI:

He doesn’t understand you, Mr. Vandergelder. You’d better speak louder.