certain about yet, except that we're all going to be in it.
BERTRAM. Then I vote we have a desert island——
DENNIS. And pirates——
FRANK. And cannibals——
HAROLD (gloatingly). Cannibals eating people—Oo!
CAROLINE (shocked). Harold! How would you like to be eaten by a cannibal?
DENNIS. Oh, chuck it! How would you like to be a cannibal and have nobody to eat? (CAROLINE is silent, never having thought of this before.)
ADA. Let it be a fairy-story, Rosemary, darling. It's so much prettier.
ELSIE. With a lovely princess——
GWENDOLINE. And a humble woodcutter who marries her——
ISABEL (her only contribution). P'itty P'incess.
BERTRAM. Princesses are rot.
ELSIE (with spirit). So are pirates! (Deadlock.)
CAROLINE. I should like something about Father Christmas, and snow, and waits, and a lovely ball, and everybody getting nice presents and things.
DENNIS (selfishly, I'm afraid). Bags I all the presents.
(Of course, the others aren't going to have that. They all say so together.)
ROSEMARY (above the turmoil). James, I must have silence.
JAMES. Silence, all!
ROSEMARY. Thank you. … You will be interested to hear that I have decided to have a Fairy Story and a Desert Island and a Father Christmas.
ALL. Good! (Or words to that effect)
ROSEMARY (biting her pen). I shall begin with the Fairy Story. (There is an anxious silence. None of them has ever seen anybody writing a play before. How does one do it? Alas, ROSEMARY herself doesn't know. She appeals to JAMES.) James, how do you begin a play? I mean when you've got the title.
JAMES (a man of genius). Well, Miss Rosemary, seeing that it's to be called "Make-Believe," why not make-believe as it's written already?
ROSEMARY. What a good idea, James!
JAMES. All that is necessary is for the company to think very hard of what they want, and—there we are! Saves all the bother of writing and spelling and what not.
ROSEMARY (admiringly.) James, how clever you are!
JAMES. So-so, Miss Rosemary.
ROSEMARY. Now then, let's all think together. Are you all ready?
ALL. Yes! (They clench their hands.)
ROSEMARY. Then one, two, three—Go!
(They think. … The truth is that JAMES, who wasn't really meant to be in it, thinks too. If there is anything in the play which you don't like, it is JAMES thinking.)
ACT I.—THE PRINCESS AND THE WOODCUTTER
(The WOODCUTTER is discovered singing at his work, in a glade of the forest outside his hut. He is tall and strong, and brave and handsome; all that a woodcutter ought to be. Now it happened that the PRINCESS was passing, and as soon as his song is finished, sure enough, on she comes.)
PRINCESS. Good morning, Woodcutter.
WOODCUTTER. Good morning. (But he goes on with his work.)
PRINCESS (after a pause). Good morning, Woodcutter.
WOODCUTTER. Good morning.
PRINCESS. Don't you ever say anything except good morning?
WOODCUTTER. Sometimes I say good-bye.
PRINCESS. You are a cross woodcutter to-day.
WOODCUTTER. I have work to do.
PRINCESS. You are still cutting wood? Don't you ever do anything else?
WOODCUTTER. Well, you are still a Princess; don't you ever do anything else?
PRINCESS (reproachfully). Now, that's not fair, Woodcutter. You can't say I was a Princess yesterday, when I came and helped you stack your wood. Or the day before, when I tied up your hand where you had cut it. Or the day before that, when we had our meal together on the grass. Was I a Princess then?
WOODCUTTER. Somehow I think you were. Somehow I think you were saying to yourself, "Isn't it sweet of a Princess to treat a mere woodcutter like this?"
PRINCESS. I think you're perfectly horrid. I've a good mind never to speak to you again. And—and I would, if only I could be sure that you would notice I wasn't speaking to you.
WOODCUTTER. After all, I'm just as bad as you. Only yesterday I was thinking to myself how unselfish I was to interrupt my work in order to talk to a mere Princess.
PRINCESS. Yes, but the trouble is that you don't interrupt your work.
WOODCUTTER (interrupting it and going up to her with a smile). Madam, I am at your service.
PRINCESS. I wish I thought you were.
WOODCUTTER. Surely you have enough people at your service already. Princes and Chancellors and Chamberlains and Waiting Maids.
PRINCESS. Yes, that's just it. That's why I want your help. Particularly in the matter of the Princes.
WOODCUTTER. Why, has a suitor come for the hand of her Royal Highness?
PRINCESS. Three suitors. And I hate them all.
WOODCUTTER. And which are you going to marry?
PRINCESS. I don't know. Father hasn't made up his mind yet.
WOODCUTTER. And this is a matter which father—which His Majesty decides for himself?
PRINCESS. Why, of course! You should read the History Books, Woodcutter. The suitors to the hand of a Princess are always set some trial of strength or test of quality by the King, and the winner marries his daughter.
WOODCUTTER. Well, I don't live in a Palace, and I think my own thoughts about these things. I'd better get back to my work. (He goes on with his chopping.)
PRINCESS (gently, after a pause). Woodcutter!
WOODCUTTER (looking up). Oh, are you there? I thought you were
