Chapters 8
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1 00 - Dramatis Personae 1:58
Dramatis Personae of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs by Jesse Bram White. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Dramatis Personae Narrated by Zach Kelchin Princess Snow White. Read by Christine Gee. Queen Brangomar. Read by Beth Thomas. Rosalys. Read by Ruhi Hak. Cristobal. Read by Kimberly Krauss. Amaloti. Read by Bria Snor. Ermengarde. Read by Rapunzelina. Ursula. Read by Vanessa Cooley. Lynette. Read by Bethany Baldwin. Guinevere. Read by Lydia. Astelline. Read by Rachel. Sir Dandiprat Bombus. Read by Zames Curran. Berthold, the chief huntsman. Read by Peter Yearsley. Prince Florimond.
Read by Matt Butcher. Blick. Read by April Walters. Flick. Read by Bethany Baldwin. Glick. Read by Zames Curran. Snick, read by Michael C. Johnson. Plick, read by Rachel. Wick, read by Todd. Quee, read by Ted DeLorme. Witch Hex, read by Shiloh Fusello. The Peddler Woman, read by Vanessa Cooley. The Pie Man, read by Rob Baud. The Mirror, read by Jesse Ian. End of Dramatis Personae.
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2 01 - Scene I: The Throne Room in Queen Brangomar's Palace 46:05
The throne room in Queen Brangamar's Palace. The throne room is a fine apartment, Hung with blue damask, embroidered with silver peacocks, birds of which Queen Brangamaw is very fond. At the back, wide steps lead to a terrace of white marble. Beyond shines the blue sea. On one side stands the great throne, inlaid with colored mosaics. Opposite is an entrance leading to the other rooms of the palace. When the play begins, seven of the Maids of Honor to Princess Snow White are playing a game with colored balls. They are little girls about twelve years old, and their names are Rosalice, Amalot, Ermengarde, Guinevere, Cristobal, Ursula, and Lynette. As they play, they sing. High and low, high and low, round about Rosalice they go.
Blue and green, gold and white, toss them through the triple and tight. Miss them all and let them fall, make the waves and stick it all. One, two, three, out goes she. One, two, three, and out goes she. Just here, Rosalys does miss, and the others rush to tag her, crying, Rosalys is out. Rosalys is out. I don't care. It's not an interesting game anyway. Play again. One game. I will. But just as they are about to begin again, Sir Dandiprat Bombus, the court chamberlain, appears on the terrace. He is a fat, puffy little man, with an enormous wig and a great scent of his own importance. Ah, young ladies! What? Playing in the throne room? Tut-tut-tut-tut! Oh, please don't tell the Queen! Don't tell the Queen!
Don't tell the Queen! We didn't break anything! No. On the whole, I will not tell Her Majesty. She might blame me. I was going to say, I have an important announcement to make. Since Lady Cicely was sent home with the mumps, your usual number, eight, has been reduced to seven. Am I right? One from eight leaves seven, I think. He tries to do the sum on his fingers. Yes, it is seven. I am right. Her Majesty the Queen wishes your numbers kept complete, so I have brought another young lady. To take the vacant spot. He leads on little Lady Astellane and presents her. The Lady Astellane. These are the Maids of Honor to the Princess Snow White. Lady Astellane curtsies to the Maids of Honor, and they in turn curtsy to her.
You must teach Lady Astellane all she ought to know as a Maid of Honor. You'd better teach her your gravat first. You may have to dance it almost immediately. And the little man dances a few steps, puffing out the tune meantime. TUM TUM TEE, DUM TUM TEE, and how to do a proper courtesy. So. And he tries to make one. And how to retire backwards gracefully. So. But as he retires backwards, he stumbles against the terrace steps, and falls flat on his back. He is so embarrassed by this mishap that he scrambles out of the room as fast as he can, puffing. Gracefully, young ladies, gracefully! Till he is out of sight. Who's that old thing? Mimicking Sir Dandy Pratt's voice and strut. That's Sir Dandy Pratt Bombus, court chamberlain to the Queen.
He gives us our instructions. But we don't mind him. Do you have good times here? Splendid, except when the Queen is especially cross. And then, oh me. We have to be careful. I don't think I shall like the Queen. Shhhhhh. Why shhh? Never say anything uncomplimentary about the Queen. We all adore the Queen. But they shake their heads and make little faces to show Astalone that they don't mean it. I shall hate the Queen. We all do. But I'm to be maid of honor to the Princess Snow White, so I'll take my orders from her. Oh, Snow White never gives orders. I shall like her. When shall I see her? Sometimes every day, and then again, not for ever so long. It just depends on the Queen's temper. And how much Snow White has to do?
I thought a princess never had anything to do. Well, you see, Snow White isn't exactly a regular princess. Why, Christabel, of course she's a regular princess, but... But what? You don't hate Snow White, too. Hate Snow White? The idea. She's the dearest. Loveliest. Kindest. We just adore her. Oh, do you think we could get Snow White to come and see Astor Lane now while we're all alone? Oh, let's try. And all the little maids hop up and down and clap their hands with glee at the idea. Where is she? Kitchen, I think. She said she had to bake bread first and cookies afterward. Bread is important, but cookies aren't. Anyway, it can't do any harm to ask her. I'll go. I'll go. And off she darts to the kitchen.
But what is the princess doing in the kitchen? Of course you don't understand about Snow White yet. It's a court secret. But I think we ought to tell her right away, don't you, before she sees Snow White? Or she might think. They evidently agree, for they all rush at Astellane and begin to speak at once. I'll tell you. Snow White was born. This queen isn't her real mother. It's like a fairy tale. Stopping her ears. I can't possibly understand if you all talk at once. But each little maid, thinking that the others will stop, again begins to tell Snow White's story, so that the confusion is worse than before. Astellain has to hold her ears a second time. Astellain's That's worse. There's only one fair way to decide.
I'll count out, and the one that's out shall tell. Astellain's I suppose that's fair. Only I should tell it so much the best. To Astellain. Astellain's Well, then, you count. Intrymin tree cut tree corn, apple seed and apple thorn, wire, briar, limber, lock, five gray geese in a flock, eeny, meeny, mona, me, basilona, bona, stree, One, two, three. Out goes she. Out goes she. Oh, it's Rosalise. I was so afraid it wouldn't be me. Come over here where we can talk quietly. She runs to the throne and climbs into the big seat. The others cuddle close beside her. Now nobody must interrupt except by express permission. Button mounts. First, Queen Brangomar isn't Snow White's real mother. Oh, I know that.
But my father says that her real father and mother were the best king and queen. Glaring at Christabel. What about interrupting? I forgot. Excuse me. And she buttons her mouth again. One day in winter, before Snow White was born, her real mother was sitting by the window, embroidering at an ebony frame. And she pricked her finger, so she opened the window and shook the drop of blood on the snow outside. And it looked so beautiful that she said, Oh, how I wish I had a little daughter with hair as black as ebony, skin as white as snow, and lips as red as blood. She'd never had a baby before, but a little while after, a baby daughter was born with hair as black as ebony, skin as white as snow, and lips as red as blood.
So that's why they named her Snow White. But then Snow White's mother died, and I suppose the king thought there ought to be somebody to mind the baby, for he married Queen Brangomar. She's queen now. Oh, I see. As long as the king lived, Queen Brangomar was as sweet as sugar to Snow White. I'm glad she was ever nice to somebody. After he died, then? Then what? Then she grew awfully jealous of Snow White. Not really. Of course everybody loved the princess best. And Brangomar? Really is the horridest woman. Shhh! First she pretended that Snow White might grow up vain, so she took away all her princessy clothes and made her wear old ragbaggity things. Then she pretended that she might grow up lazy, so she made her sleep in Dust Palace.
And now Snow White is really almost like a kitchen maid and sleeps in a little closet under the stairs where we keep the umbrellas and overshoes. Springing up. I think it's outrageous. Why does Princess Snow White stand it? I wouldn't. Oh, shh! Why shh? I never heard anything so shh-y as this palace. But what can she do? The Queen? I don't want to hear anything more about that hateful Queen. But you must. It isn't safe that you shouldn't. We'll have to tell her. You tell. No, you. It makes me feel all creepy. Well, you. No, you were counted out. Well, please, somebody. Oh, dear. The reason it's not safe to do or say anything against the Queen is that she might magic you. What do you mean? Enchant you, bewitch you, do some terrible magic thing to you.
You don't mean that she's a... witch? The others nod silently and snuggle closer together. If she isn't a witch herself, she's friends with one. You see, she must really be very old. She's thirty if she's a minute. And she's still the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms. And once a chambermaid found a broomstick, the kind that witches ride on in her bedroom. So, you see, if you did anything against her, she might magic you, or turn you into a pig. Or a tote. Or a caterpillar. Or something worse. There isn't anything worse than a caterpillar. Oh, I want to go home. I'm afraid. And she bursts into tears. The others gather about to comfort her. Please, Astellane, there's really nothing to be afraid of.
It's all right. And we all want you to stay, for we like you ever so much. Oh, if Snow White would only come now, then she wouldn't want to go home. Just at this moment, Amalot reappears in the doorway. Princess Snow White says she'll come if nobody's here. There isn't anybody. She'll come, she'll come, she's right here. And she darts out of sight again. Oh, she's coming. Snow White's coming. Now you'll see. In joyous excitement, the Maids of Honor join hands and dance a ring around, and then wind up into a little squirming knot, hugging each other and dancing up and down. Re-entering announces... The Princess Snow White. Instantly, the Maids of Honor separate and kneel to receive their little princess.
Snow White appears in the doorway. She is dressed in a frock of ragged black, and she has on neither shoes nor stockings. Nevertheless, she has the air of a little princess. Is this my new playmate, Lady Acelain? I hope you'll like me. Kissing the hand which Snow White holds out to her. I love you already, dear princess. Like a little flight of birds, the Mates of Honor run to surround Snow White. We all love you, dear princess. And I love you. All of you. But did you want anything particular? I've left hundreds of cookies in my oven. Can't you stay just a moment and teach Astelaine our gervot? Sir Dandy Pratt said that she must learn it at once, and you've done so much the best. Do you think I have time?
Oh, yes! Yes! Yes! Running out onto the terrace. I'll watch and tell if anybody's coming. To Astelaine. You'd better be my partner. It's very simple. The Maids of Honor take positions for their dance, and as Snow White teaches Astellane the steps, they sing... Turn to me and cut sea low. One, two, three. Turn away and point your toe. One, two, and three. Turn again and hand in hand. Hand in hand. Hand in hand. Turn your partner where you stand. One, two, and three. One, two. But just here Rosalys comes running in from the terrace. Oh, shh! Old Dandy Pratt's coming. Oh, dear! I must run! Catching her? No, don't. He won't stay a minute. He'll hide behind the throne till he's gone. Yes, yes, quickly!
Behind the throne! Snow White runs behind the throne, and the Maids of Honor spread themselves out before it so that she is quite hidden. But they are not a moment too soon, for Sir Dandy Pratt waddles in from the terrace, followed by two solemn flunkies in gorgeous liveries. Ah, young ladies. I am fortunate to have found you all together. We have the most important announcement to make. I composed it myself. He unrolls an imposing parchment and reads. Whereas our gracious Queen has been informed that His Highness, Prince Florimond, heir to the kingdom of Caledon, will call upon Her Majesty this afternoon to deliver an important letter from his royal father. I have arranged the following reception.
At 415 precisely, this proclamation will be read. He consults his watch. Dear me, five minutes late already. I shall have to alter it. And with a sigh, he makes the correction with a gold pencil. At 4.20 precisely, this proclamation will be read. At 4.30, Prince Floriman will arrive, and he will be shown at once to the throne room by myself. The maids of honor will dance their garavotte to amuse his highness until the queen is announced, when they will immediately retire. By order of me, Sir Dandiprat Bombas, Court Chamberlain. Signed, you are very truly Sir Dandiprat Bombas. P.S. Her Majesty the Queen regrets that, owing to her duties in the kitchen, Princess Snow White will be unable to attend.
You understand, young ladies? Perfectly, Sir Dandiprat. You have eight minutes and thirty-one seconds to prepare. And he trips busily away again, followed by the flankeys. Gracious, I can't possibly learn that dance in eight minutes and thirty-one seconds. And we must dance in pairs. What shall we do? Calling to Snow White, who is still hidden behind the throne. Princess Snow White, what shall we do? It's all right, Princess. Sir Dandipat has gone.
Princess Snow White. Princess Snow White. Princess Snow White!
Rosalice runs behind the throne. Oh, she's crying. Oh, dear princess. The all run to Snow White and find her hiding her face and sobbing silently, surrounding and embracing her. Oh, what's the matter? Please don't cry. We can't bear to see you unhappy. If you cry, we shall cry too. I didn't mean to cry. I won't. A princess should never cry. She smiles resolutely, though her eyes are full of tears. There. But I did so want to see Prince Florimonde again. He sends me a valentine every year, and long ago, when his father came to visit mine, we were wheeled about in the same baby carriage. He must be grown up now. I think it's an outrageous shame. But what can I do? You heard. P.S. Her Majesty regrets that the Princess will be unable to attend.
If I were a princess, I'd do what I chose, and if the Queen didn't like it, I'd— Adelaine, hush! I'm tired of hushing. She's right. I am a king's daughter, after all, and if I am always meek and do just what I am told, I'll stay in that hateful kitchen all my life. Oh, wouldn't I like to march right in before everybody and say, Prince Florimund, I'm your cousin, Snow White. I apologize for my frock, but it's all I have. And I can't let you kiss my hand, because it's all covered with flour. But I did want to see you again, after riding with you in a baby carriage when you were two, and I was a half, and I have. Goodbye. And then I'd march back to my kitchen. Oh, please, please, please, dear princess.
The queen would be so angry she might even. Struck with an idea. Wait! The queen won't be here when we dance for the prince. No. Why? Then why can't the princess dance in my place? She could wear my veil over her face, and I'd say afterward that I had, oh, measles or something else spotty. Oh, Astelline. She runs to hug her for the suggestion. Oh, dear! I wish it were possible. But my frock! Why can't we all lend her something? Why not? We have on heaps more than we need. She could have my over-skirt. She pulls it up to show an under-skirt almost as elaborate. And my watteau. And my life's jacket. And my cap and pearls. We could dress her perfectly. And they all hop up and down with little squeaks of delight.
Will you do it, princess? Oh, will you? You darlings! I suppose I oughtn't. But I will. And she runs behind the throne to dress, with Guinevere to help her. The other little maids... Unpin and unhook and twist and turn to reach hard buttons at a great rate, as you can judge from the things they say. Here's my veil. Oh, she doesn't want a veil first. Help me with this skirt. I can't unhook me. These pearls just won't untangle. Please come and unpin this. Know me first. I won't go to either if you don't decide. She's ready for the skirt now. You unhook while I squeeze. Now, one, two, three. There isn't room for all our fingers on one little hook. Here's the jacket. And now they're all behind the throne, helping Snow White on with the new things.
Except poor Christabel, who was left writhing to reach a pin at the back of her neck. I think you're just mean. I know, Oprick. It did. Well, anyway, I know where it is now. And with an enormous twist, she succeeds in unfastening her Watteau. Dancing out, waving Snow White's black frock. Here's her little black dress. What shall I do with it? Following. Oh, put it anywhere. But where is anywhere? Here, stuff it under this cushion on the throne. She does so. They'll never find it there. Won't it be a joke when the queen sits on it? Oh, why did you say that? Now I shall just giggle and giggle and giggle. And they run behind the throne again. Snow White is almost dressed now. And the little maids, one after another, tiptoe away from the throne, whispering, Oh, she just looks like a bride, and she's perfectly sweet.
All silver and wide from her head to her feet. Her lips red as blood, and her hair black as night. She's lovely, she's lovelier, Princess Snow White. They stand waiting for her. There is a moment's pause, and then Rosalice calls, Aren't you coming, Princess? From behind the throne, Just a moment, till I shake out my hair. There! She steps into sight. The maids sink down in involuntary curtsies at the sight of her. She's lovelier than apple blossoms. Lovelier than anybody I ever saw. More beautiful than the Queen. The Queen must never see her like this. Never! Snow White, who has been putting the last touches to her dress, suddenly... Oh, look! My feet! And indeed, her little white feet are bare.
Oh, I don't think it matters. The prince is a gentleman, and no gentleman would look at a lady's feet except to admire them. But I'd be different. Then let's all take off our shoes and stockings. Of course. Immediately they plump down on the floor, but they have hardly begun when that trumpet sounds from the terrace. There's the prince now. We can't stay here. Let's run into the anteroom to finish. I am so afraid something may happen. Really, I ought not to, but I do so want to see him. Hurry, hurry, hurry, dear princess. And they hasten off into the ante-room, drawing Snow White with them. They are only just in time, for music sounds on the terrace, and the throne room fills with dukes and duchesses, none of lower rank or allowed, all in their best robes and Sunday coronets.
Then on struts Sir Dandypratt. More important and puffy than ever. His Highness, Prince Florimonde, heir apparent to the kingdom of Caledon. The Prince appears, followed by his pages, Valentin and Vivian. He is a handsome, manly youth, dressed in blue and gold. He bows politely to the kneeling dukes and duchesses as Sir Dandy Pratt ushers him to the throne. I regret, Your Highness, that the Queen hasn't quite finished doing her hair. But she will be here in a moment. Meanwhile, may the Maids of Honor entertain Your Highness with a little dance. It would give me great pleasure. It is a very simple dance, Your Highness, but considering their youth... But he stops because his eye falls upon a little pink shoe that Guinevere has left behind.
He picks it up, hides it under his coattails, and stumbles on. The young ladies do very, um, very... And now he spies a stocking. And in hiding that, the clumsy little man lets the shoe fall. This confuses him still more, but he goes on. Very credibly indeed. And he sees a garter. This completes his embarrassment. He forgets the rest of his speech altogether, and cries. Really, they will drive me distracted. And where are they now? He dives about among the dukes and duchesses, hunting for them, just as they appear in the doorway. Ah, here you are. Well, begin your dance at once. And off he puffs to find the Queen, wiping his forehead alternately with shoe and stocking as he goes. The Maids of Honor begin their gewalt.
They are all veiled and all barefooted, so that you couldn't tell Snow White from the others unless you happened to know that she was dressed in silver and white. But there is something about her that attracts the young prince from the first, and as the dance progresses... He becomes so interested that he comes down from the throne to watch her more closely. As the first figure ends, he is close beside her. In the measure to ensue, Lady, may I dance with you? Giving him her hand. Sir, could any maid withstand such a flattering command? Then I ask another, Grace. Won't you please unveil your face? Yes, if secret it may be, secret between you and me. The second figure of the dance begins, Snow White now dancing with the Prince.
Once in a while we overhear what they are saying. You look at me as if we bow. You'd never seen my face till now. Do you think I could forget if we two had ever met? Yet in silence, side by side, once we sat, until I cried. Now I fear it will be my heart that will weep when we must part. Now we turn and bow. Dare me. You don't know this dance, I see. Can I think to bow and turn when I'm learning what I learn? The dance ends, and a trumpet sounds to announce the coming of the Queen. But the Prince still holds Snow White's hand. There's the trumpet. I must fly. Please my hand, sir, and goodbye. Detaining her. I don't even know your name. Don't go yet. I'll take the blame. Oh, I can't not tell you why.
Please, I beg you, let me fly. And she runs off, surrounded by the Maids of Honor, who have been terribly frightened, lest the Queen should spy her. Gazing after her, Do you think to steal my heart, little thief, and so depart? Nay, I'll follow fast and true, till I find my heart and you. Sir Dandyprat appears on the terrace. Her Majesty. The Queen. To a crush of music and blare of trumpets, Queen Brangimar enters. She is dark, languorous, and very beautiful. She wears her crown, and her long robes are embroidered in the blues and greens of the peacock's tail. She holds out a jewelled hand for Prince Florimonde to kiss, and then sweeps to the throne. So, you are Prince Florimonde. I'm sorry you chose today to come.
I'm not looking my best. I have always heard of Queen Brangomar as the most beautiful— Of course, of course. I am told you bring me a message from your father. What is it? This letter. I don't know its contents, Your Majesty. Your father writes that if you did know, it might embarrass you. Hmm. Wretched handwriting. My son Florimund, now of an age to marry. Marry? So your foolish old father is intending to marry you off, is he? I hope he isn't thinking of me. How many proposals would that make this week, Dandyprat? Eleven, your majesty, including those from the lunatic asylum. What's this? To his cousin, the Princess Snow White? To Snow White? She rises in anger, crushing the letter. To Snow White?
Then, trying not to betray her jealousy, and with a bitter laugh, she reseats herself. Really, my dear Florimund? Of course, I regret to say so, but Snow White isn't a possible choice. I'm sorry to disappoint you. But you don't. I— I was speaking. Snow White is most malicious and ill-tempered, and so stupid and common that she prefers to associate with the kitchen maids. Indeed, I believe she's in the kitchen at this very moment. She wouldn't do for you at all. Are not these the facts, Sir Dandypratt? Well, Your Majesty, perhaps. Are not these the facts, Sir Dan de Pratt? They are, Your Majesty. Your Majesty has made me very happy. Happy? I supposed. Five minutes ago, such an account of Snow White would have made me miserable, for even as a little boy I always dreamed of marrying my cousin when I grew up.
But now... Oh, will Your Majesty help me if I confess? Help you? How? You see, I've fallen in love with someone else, meantime. Meantime? When? Mr. Brown. Here, just now, in this very room. She is the most beautiful— Mrs. Brown. Oh, my poor boy, really. I'm so much older than you. Mr. Brown. Oh, not your majesty. She's one of Snow White's maids of honor. Mrs. Brown. A maid of honor? You don't mean to say you want to marry one of them? Your father would never consent. They're nice girls and come of quite respectable families, daughters of dukes and earls and that class, but you can only marry a princess. I'd marry her without my father's consent, even if we had to set up housekeeping in a poor cottage.
Don't be heroic. What is the young paragon's name? She... she didn't tell me. We danced together, that was all. Are you quite sure you would even know her again? Your Majesty is unkind. Apparently, the only way to discover the young person is to summon all the Maids of Honor. She motions Sir Daddy Pratt, who hurries off. I am curious to know your taste. Stand here by me, and point her out when she comes. Sir Dandiprat reappears in the doorway, and introduces the Maids of Honor, one by one. As each maid is named, she curses to the Prince. The Maids of Honor. The Lady Rosalith. The Lady Amalot. The Lady Emengard. The Lady Guinevere. The Lady Christabel. The Lady Astellan. The Lady Ursula. The Lady Lynette.
But she's not there. There was another. Another? Eight, that is all. Counting his fingers. Only eight, your highness. But there was another. Another? What was she like? Her hair was black as polished ebony. Her skin was whiter than new-fallen snow. Her lips were redder than a drop of blood. Snow white. Summon Snow White. Snow White appears timidly in the entrance. I suspect she had been listening behind the curtains. I am here, Your Majesty. That is she. And oh, she is Snow White. You are Snow White. He rushes to kneel at her feet, her anger quite overcoming her as she sees Snow White's changed appearance. Snow White. You, you dared.
She rushes toward the little princess, but suddenly, halfway, she falters and falls, fainting, hopping about in great excitement. The Queen fainted! The Queen fainted! Oh, this is most important! Princess, Princess, see what you have done? Take her away! Take her away! The Maids of Honor lead Snow White away, and Sir Dandiprat turns to the astonished Prince. Most deplorable! Would Your Highness withdraw to the terrace? Until the queen recovers. This is most distracting. Air! Air! Everyone out of the room! Everyone! Give her air! The prince and the courtiers hurry out of the room. But no sooner is the queen alone with Sir Dantiprat than she recovers from her swoon. Shall I found him, your majesty?
Oh, I hope. Where is the prince? Waiting on the terrace, your majesty. Keep him there till I ring. Oh, pray, don't anger him. Gain time! Gain time! Get out, you idiot! This rude exclamation so startles Sir Dandiprat that he stumbles backwards up the terrace steps, and waddles out of sight as fast as his fat legs will carry him. The witch! Witch-hex! I must summon her! She must help me now. She draws the curtains over both entrances so that she may not be seen at her magic. What was the spell? Ah, I remember. From my eyebrow pluck a hair, E-Burimi-Burro. Blow it high up in the air, E-Burimi-Hok. Where it lands a circle trace, E-Burimi-Burro. Three times pace about the space, and knock, knock, knock.
As she knocks, smoke rises from the circle she has traced, and there is a sound of distant thunder. Thunder says the spell grows warm, ee-b'rimi-b'ro. Now I speak the mystic charm, ee-b'rimi-boo. E, I, Sopha'gos, E, I, E-I-sophogos. E-I-sophogos. E-I-sopholophogos. E-I-sophogos. E. I. Sopho-giddle. The charm sounds like nonsense, but it must be true magic, for the smoke increases as she chants it, and the thunder comes nearer. The spell's wound up, the charm is clear. I summon thee, which hex appear? Lo, through the smoking circle in the floor, which hex does appear? She looks exactly like all witches in fairy-tale pictures, with her black pointed hat, red cloak, and crutched stick. It is evident that she is in a bad temper.
Here, help me out, help me out! The Queen assists her out of the smoking circle. What is the meaning of this? I'm getting tired of being called up by you night and day. Last time I was in my nightgown, and it was snowing too. I was an idiot to teach you that spell. Whatever is the trouble now? Don't be angry, dear godmother. You know how much I love you. Stuff. You don't love me. You don't love anybody but yourself. That's the matter with you. If you only knew the trouble I have to take to keep you beautiful. Your disposition keeps wearing through. If I should once say, bang, no more charms for that wretched Brangomar, how would you look then?
I believe you'd be uglier than I am. I know, I know, dear Hex, but you wouldn't. Don't be too sure. Just summon me once too often, and you may find out how it feels to be the ugliest woman in the Seven Kingdoms. Oh, tell me I'm still the most beautiful. You look all right to me, but I warn you, I'm using my strongest magic now. You'd be much safer if you'd try to be good once in a while. Well, whom are you jealous of this time? Snow White. Snow White? She's only a child. So I thought till today when I saw her for the first time prettily dressed. Well, why in the name of my cat Fiddle did you dress her up? I didn't. She tricked me. Who thought she was fairer than you? Prince Florimond. He wants to marry her.
Prince... Florimond? Poo. Mere boy. Probably said it to plague you, knowing your wretched disposition. But I've brought something with me this time that may help to keep you quiet. Just had time to snatch it when I felt you spelling me away. It's a magic mirror. She takes from her pocket and holds before Queen Prangamal's dazzled eyes a hand mirror carved from a single crystal. It glows and gleams like an opal, seizing the mirror and gazing into it. Magic? Oh! Ah, you see. It reflects you as you really are. If I stopped my spells, that's what you'd look like. Now it makes me quite decent looking. That's because my character's better. Oh, the hateful thing! I never saw anything so terrible. Why, I looked almost funny.
Take it away! Take it away! Wait, that's not all its magic. Hold it in your hand and say, Mirror, mirror in my hand, who's the fairest in the land? And it will answer you truthfully. Snatching the mirror, but shutting her eyes that she may not see her reflection. Oh, let me try. Mirror, mirror in my hand, who's the fairest in the land? Listen. There is a faint strain of music, and then a clear faraway voice that sounds like crystal bells sings. You who hold me in your hand, you are fairest in the land. But today I tell you true. Snow White is more fair than you. With a scream of rage, the queen would dash the mirror to the floor, but the witch rescues it just in time. Stop, stop, stop. Gracious, listen to me now.
If you ever break that mirror, you will become as ugly as you really are, and for life, too. None of my spells can beauty you again either, for the mirror is made of those same charms. I thought you knew enough common everyday magic for that. Pacing up and down, weeping with rage. But Snow White is more beautiful than I! Snow White is more beautiful than I! Snow White is more be-hoo-hoo-tiful than I. Stop wallowing. But I can't bear it! I'll make a spell and turn her ugly, as ugly as a toad! Won't. Refuse to make any more bad spells. If you can't bear the sight of her, then why not send her away somewhere? Say, boarding school? But she'd come back. Why should she? Suppose at boarding school she gets mumps or freckles or whatever those children's diseases are and dies of it.
Oh, I see. You'll make a spell and give her the disease. No, no, no. I won't do any more bad magic, I tell you. You must contrive to have her lost on the way to boarding school, and then just tell some teradiddle to explain why she never comes back. And there you are. Everything permanently settled, and a little peace for me, I hope. I might. I could send Berthold, my huntsman, as if he were taking her to school, and then, oh, in the deep forest, he shall put her to death. Goodness gracious, mercy me! I never suggested anything like that. Why, I hear she's quite a nice child. I shall never know a happy hour while she's alive. Well, there's no arguing with you. But can you trust your huntsman?
I know a way to make him a bay. Glad you know something. And look here. If you're resolved to have Snow White killed, then there's a little favor you might do me. I'm making a new spell that's really hard magic. A hair restorer. That will really restore hair. Want it for my own personal use. She pops off her cap and shows a perfectly bald head. I'd about given up for want of the last ingredient, the heart of a nice young girl. Now, I wouldn't harm a nice young girl myself for anything, but if you're determined to dispose of Snow White, I'd be obliged for her heart. I promise. Bertolt shall bring it to me as proof. Now, goodbye, dear Hexy. I must summon him at once. Hmm, it's always goodbye, dear Hexy, as soon as I've done what you want.
I'm afraid you don't love me for myself alone, dear Braggamere. But I'm as glad to go as you are to have me. Say the quick spell and get me off. Ready? The Queen and the Witch join hands, shut their eyes, and chant in chorus. Bang-a-boo-ba, bang-a-boo-wack. Crow eat sun, make all black. Maroon-ba. Everything suddenly becomes black. In the darkness, the two voices are still heard, chanting. Bang-a-boo-ba, bang-a-boo-wack. Moldig hole, which go back. Maroon-ba. There is a queer sound, something like a very small earthquake. Then only the queen's voice is heard. Bangaboo-bah, Bangaboo-wack, Witches gone, Sun come back, Maroon-bah. The light returns as suddenly as it went. The witch has vanished.
Quite calmly, the queen goes to the bell-court. Let me see. I ring three times for the huntsman. She rings, but it is Sir Dandiprat who enters. Your Majesty rang for me? Not for you, idiot. For Berthold. Give me a minute alone with him, and then summon the Prince in Snow White. Off with you. Sir Dandiprat hurries away, just as Chief Huntsman Berthold enters. Berthold is tall and big. He has a thick, square beard and a kind, ruddy face. Berthold, I have a task for you. I hope it is to take you a-hunting, Your Majesty. Your forests are full of game, wild pigs, deer. Indeed, there may be even a unicorn or two. It's other game I propose this time, Berthold. You have been a faithful chief huntsman.
Suppose I promote you to be Lord High Admiral. As we have no navy, the duties will be light. Oh, Your Majesty, how can I thank you? It depends upon your carrying out a task with absolute obedience. Give me a chance to show my gratitude. Come nearer. The Princess Snow White is to set out for boarding school this afternoon. You will conduct her. At the western gates, you will take the old road that turns to the left. But, Your Majesty, that road leads into the deep wood. You will take that road. When you have come to the very heart of the forest, then... You will kill the Princess. Springing back. Never, Your Majesty. Never. It is my command. She has disobeyed me. She must be punished. Kill Snow White?
My late King's daughter? The loveliest maid in the Seven Kingdoms? I would slay myself first. There is no man in your dominions base enough to do such a deed. Pray dismiss me. He turns to go. Wait. I have a surer means to command your obedience. You have six small children, I believe. Yes, your Majesty. Suppose I lock your six children in the great grey tower. Suppose I order that no one shall take them food or drink. Oh, your majesty, have mercy. Think, can you not hear their six small voices calling to you from the dark? We are hungry, papa. They will cry, and they will beat on the door with their little hands. Sinking to the ground. Spare me, spare me. At last they will be too weak to cry or beat.
Then, when all has grown still within the tower, I will say, Berthold, here is the key. Go and see how Queen Brangimar punishes disobedience. Rising with a cry. Oh! Oh, I will obey your majesty. Heaven forgive me, but I cannot let my children starve. That's much better, Berthold. You understand clearly. Alas, too well. Oh, what a tone of voice. Remember the motto, A task cheerfully done is well done. And, oh, I almost forgot, you must bring me Snow White's heart before midnight as a proof. Here comes the Prince. Do try to look more pleasant. Prince Florimonde returns, ushered in by Sir Dandiprat, and followed by all the courtiers. I hope your Majesty has recovered. Quite, thank you. I beg everybody's pardon, something I had for lunch, no doubt.
To Sir Dandiprat. Where is the Princess Snow White? I am here, Your Majesty. My dear Snow White, Prince Florimonde has come to ask your hand in marriage. What do you say? Drooping her head. What may I say? Have you any reasons against it? None, Your Majesty. I was obliged to tell him how unfitted you are at present to become a queen. Indeed, I have long been thinking of sending you away to some select boarding school for backward princesses. This seems the opportunity. You will remain at this school for a year and a day. Oh, your majesty! And the prince must promise not to see or write to you until the end of that time. That seems too hard. Otherwise, I shall refuse my consent. Do you agree? Since I must.
Then that's settled. Return here one year and one day hence, and we can then discuss the engagement. Now, Snow White, bid farewell to Prince Florimund. The Prince starts forward to kiss Snow White's hand, but the Queen intervenes. No, no. A respectful bow and a courtesy will be quite sufficient. Good-bye, Florimund. Hasten back to your father. So poor Prince Florimund bows himself out, followed by his pages. But he looks back at Snow White as long as he can see her. Now, Snow White, I've arranged all the details about the boarding-school. You must leave immediately, or you won't arrive before nightfall. Berthold will conduct you. Say your good-byes quickly. Thank you so much, Your Majesty. I'm not quite sure that I want to be a queen, but I should like to be a well-educated princess.
I am very grateful. She tries to take the Queen's hand, but the Queen withdraws it hastily. You are keeping, Bertolt, waiting. Off with you at once. Turning to her maids of honour. Good-bye, my little playmates. Good-bye, Amelot and Ermengarde and Christabel and Rosalice. Don't cry, Rosalice. It will only be a year, and I promise not to come back so grown-up and princessy that you won't recognise your Snow White. Good-bye, dear ladies and gentlemen, who have all been so good to me. I kiss you all. She blows them a kiss. Then, slipping her little hand into Berthold's big one, she says, Now, Berthold. And Berthold and the Princess Snow White go off along the terrace toward the deep forest as the curtain falls.
End of scene 1.
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3 02 - Scene II: In the Forest 9:51
In the Forest. Great trees meet over a wild and overgrown path. It is after sunset, and the light is fading fast. A small brown bird flies above the path, chirping a little call, and perches in a tree just out of sight. Snow White, running gaily, follows the bird. "'Yes, little brown bird, I heard you. You want another answer? Wait until I get my breath.' She whistles in imitation of the bird's call. "'What? Flying on again, as soon as you've made sure I've heard. Where are you trying to lead us?' Bethold, there's the brown bird again. He seems to be trying to get me to follow him. He's perched on that tree now, waiting for me to come up.
The bird calls again, and Snow White tries to imitate the call in words. Come, Snow White! Come, Snow White! Is that what you're trying to say? I'm coming! I'm coming! And she runs on, following the bird. But Old comes into sight. As he sees how lonely the spot is, and how dark with the shadows of the great trees, he halts irresolutely, and murmurs to himself. It may as well be here as anywhere. Mile after mile you have put it off till the next turn, or some more shadowed spot. But that is no kindness to the princess. Remember your own children, man. It must be here. He calls after Snow White, and his voice is hoarse. Princess, come back. What is it, Berthold? You want me? She runs back and slips her hand into his.
There's the bird again. He seems to know the way better than you do. Do you think he can know I'm going to boarding school? The bird calls again, and she answers. Don't be so impatient. I shall stay with Bethold just as long as I like. He's a much older friend of mine than you are. What did you want, Bethold? Oh, dear Princess. But he cannot go on. Why are you so pale? Have you hurt yourself? She tries to take his hand again, but he draws it away. Oh, you're angry with me. Something I did or said hurt your feelings. I didn't mean to. Please forgive me. Forgive you, Princess? He kneels before her, and cries out in anguish. Oh, say you can forgive me. Forgive you? For what? She tries to raise his bowed head, that she may see his face.
What is it, Bethold? Don't look at me, Princess. Don't look at me. He folds his arms about her, and hides his face in her dress. Mrs. Oh, whatever it is, tell me. I'm afraid. Mr. The Queen. Mrs. The Queen? Mr. The Queen has commanded me to kill you here, in this forest, now. Looking down at him in wonder. Mrs. Kill me? I don't understand. You're taking me to school. Oh, you're joking. I call that a silly joke. Stupid old Bethold. A very silly joke. Look at me. No, look at me. Slowly, he raises his head. She reads the truth in his face, and with a cry springs from him. Oh, it's true. It's true. I know it. That was why the Queen... But you won't, will you? See, Bethold, I don't run away. I come right to you.
I creep into your arms. You won't hurt me, will you? Oh, my darling, if it were my life alone that were at stake, I would suffer any torture rather than harm a hair of your beloved head. But the Queen— Oh, you mean that the Queen will kill you unless— Not me, Princess, but my children. She has shut them up in the grey tower. and she will starve them to death. Oh, Berthold!
I know your little children. They have blue eyes and yellow hair. I've played with them. She would do it, too. She thinks a moment, then with sudden resolution goes on. Kiss me good-bye, Berthold. I couldn't live and think of your children. See, I'm not crying. I'm not even very frightened. I'll turn away and shut my eyes. But please be quick. Staggers to his feet, and makes a fumbling movement for his knife, but as he touches it, he sinks down again with a cry.
I cannot, Princess. I cannot. What you must, Beth-Hald. How else can you save your children?
I will find some way. Some way. No, it's not possible, Beth-Hald. It's... Not possible for me to kill your Highness. Bethold, considering the way the Queen has behaved, do you think it would be very wrong to tell her a story? Wrong? Because if it weren't wrong, might you tell her that you'd killed me without doing it? But the proof! She has commanded me to bring her your heart before midnight. My heart? I've never seen a heart. I don't suppose a little piece of beefsteak would look at all like it, would it? No, but— He springs up. Why not the heart of some beast? I might catch a wild pig here in the forest, and— But no, I couldn't leave you here alone. You would starve. Couldn't I live like the birds, on berries?
But the winter will come, and— Oh, Your Highness, there are savage beasts in this wood. I haven't seen one. Not a living creature, but my little brown bird. It was daytime, and I was with you. But it is growing dark, and at night... But if you don't take the heart to the Queen before midnight, you know what she will do. The most savage beast would be less cruel, and you must catch the wild pig before it is too dark to see. No, I dare not leave your highness. Pretending to be struck with a new idea. Bethold, could you find this place again? Find it? Every inch of the way is branded on my brain. Then tomorrow hide some food in your tunic, and come back again, and we can plan. You might build me a little hut, and bring me food every day like a mother bird, and I could live a little lone forest princess.
I might, but— Oh, please! There is no other hope, is there? None that I can see. Then hurry. It is getting darker every moment. Kiss me good-bye quickly. She puts her face up to his. Until to-morrow, dear Bethold. My princess, heaven keep you. Until to-morrow. He hastens away. Calling after him. Good-bye, dearest Bethold. Then to herself. Poor Bethold. Does he think the queen will ever let him out of her sight again? No, she will shut him up in prison for fear that he might tell. "'You will never come back.' "'Good-bye for ever, Betholt.' A sudden terror seizes her. "'Oh, it's good-bye for ever, everybody.' She starts after him, crying. "'Betholt, come back, come back.' But remembering, she clasps her hands over her mouth to stifle the cry.
"'Hush! Snow White! Think of his children! Think of his children!' With a little moan, she sinks to the ground. Oh, but what shall I do? Where shall I go? I'm afraid. I'm afraid. Afraid! And she hides her face among the leaves. The call of the little brown bird is heard almost overhead. At first, Snow White does not hear, and the bird repeats the cry that sounds almost like, Come, Snow White! Looking up in wonder, Oh, little bird! Are you still here? You haven't left me. I think you are my friend, the only friend I have in all this world now. The bird flies off a little way, and then perches and repeats his call. Are you telling me to follow you, as you did before? But where shall I follow? I have nowhere to go.
I wish I could live in your nest, little bird. Again the bird calls, and Snow White rises and follows where he flies. Yes, I will follow. I trust you. She runs out of sight among the trees, calling softly as she goes. I hear. I am coming. I am following Little Brown Bird.
The curtain falls.
End of Scene Two.
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4 03 - Scene III: The House of the Seven Dwarfs 24:33
In the House of the Seven Dwarfs. The Dwarfs' House is very tiny. It is built of rough stones and logs, and niched into a hillside in the depths of the great wood. It has but one room, two windows, and a half-door. Along one side of the room are ranged seven little beds of different sizes. On the other is a stone fireplace for cooking, and a rustic pump with a barrel under its spout to catch the water. In the middle of the stone floor... stands a low table with seven places laid for supper. A single candle on the table lights the room. Through the window we see the forest, dim in the moonlight. Presently the little brown bird flies past and perches on a branch just outside, still calling Snow White to follow him.
They have come a long way, and she is very tired and hungry. But as she sees the little house and realises at last where the brown bird was leading her, she runs up and peeps in through the window. Oh, was it toward his light you were leading me, brown bird? Why, it's a little house. Are you flying away now? Please let me thank you first. See, I blow you a kiss. He's gone. Perhaps birds don't like kisses. Their faces are so sharp. Good-bye, little friend. What a queer little room! Seven beds, and all so small. There must be lots of children in the family. Nobody with so many children could be wicked. May I come in? As there is no answer, she knocks at the door, and opens it a crack. Please, good people, may I come in to rest?
Just for a moment? I'm lost in the forest. Still no answer. She creeps into the room and looks about. Nobody at home. But they couldn't mind if I sat down. Just a minute.
Oh, there is the children's supper, all laid out. I'm so hungry. If I took just a bit, only a tiny bit, from each place, I'm sure they couldn't be angry. She goes to the table, and as she nibbles a morsel at each place, she sings to herself. A sip of water from this cup, of porridge, just one tiny sup. I'll take this little knife to spread, a corner of the next one's bread, and borrow this wee fork to break, a morsel from this barley cake. I'll take one cherry from these four, but not a single mouthful more, no, not a single mouthful more.
Nobody could begrudge me that, but I'd like to do something to pay for my supper." She looks about. There's plenty to be done. It isn't at all a tidy house. She yawns, and then shaking herself. Wake up, Snow White. You mustn't get sleepy yet. Not till the people come home. But she cannot quite stifle another yawn. There's a broom. Suppose I sweep a little. She begins to sweep, but the broom raises such a cloud of dust that, coughing, she has to stop at once. Dear me! That only makes things worse. This floor needs a good scrubbing. I might make up the beds. She goes to the biggest bed, but she is so tired that she sits down on it a moment before beginning. This one looks as if it hadn't been made up for years and years and years.
I wonder if it's as humpy to lie on as it is to sit on. She lies down to try it. Oh, it's more. It's humpy and bumpy and... and bumpy and humpy and... Her voice trails away into silence. She has fallen asleep.
For a time, all is quiet in the little room. Then from far underground is a sound of distant knocking. It comes nearer till it sounds just under the house. Finally, a great stone slab in the floor is pushed up slowly, and from an underground passage that leads from the house into the deep mines, six of the seven dwarfs clamber up into sight. Their names are Blick, Flick, Glick, Snick, Plick and Wick. They are very small, the tallest hardly above your waist, but they are extremely old, and their beards are long and gray. Each carries a lighted lantern and a pickaxe, and bears a heavy sack over his shoulder. As soon as the last one has climbed into the room, they form in line, with Plick, the eldest, at the head.
Now, brothers, evening roll call. Blick. Here. Flick. Here. Glick. Here. Snick. Here. Plick. Here. Quick. Here. Quee.
Quee.
Blick shakes his head sadly. Late as usual. He's been stealing again. Whatever shall we do with that boy? All the dwarfs sigh and hang their heads with shame at Quy's conduct. But Blick goes on. Well, brothers, what result of today's work? Half a ton of gold nuggets for mine. He takes a handful of enormous nuggets from his sack. The others also exhibit their treasures as they name them. A hundredweight of silver dust. Fifty pounds of diamonds. A bushel of rubies. A gallon of emeralds. A peck of opals. Fair, fair. But we ought to work longer hours. Yes, what's the good of coming home except to sleep? And have supper. Oh, that supper. I know, I know, it's wretched. If we cook at night, it's too hot to eat.
If we cook it in the morning, it's cold and dusty by night. But what else can we do? And I'd rather sleep underground than in... Those beds. So would we! I know. They haven't been made in twelve years. But it doesn't pay to take time from digging diamonds to make beds, so what can we do?
Nothing. But if we didn't come home to supper, we wouldn't have to wash. Oh, brothers! Washing is a duty! Hush, I think I hear quee. They all cock their heads sidewise like robins and listen. Yes, that's Quee. He has been stealing again. We must scold him soundly. It never does any good. But we must bring him up in the way he should go. He is the youngest of us. He's only ninety-nine next April. Clear away and ready for him. They pile their sex in a corner, and squat on the floor in a semicircle, with Blick, like a presiding judge, in the center. Quee creeps up stealthily through the underground passage. He is much the smallest, but gray-bearded like the rest. As he faces his brothers, one finger creeps into his mouth.
Blick greets him sternly. Quee, you are late again. Quee nods. Been stealing as usual, I suppose? Quee nods, shaking their fingers at him, reprovingly. Oh! You know it's wrong. Very, very wrong. Quii nods. Did anybody catch you at it? Quii shakes his head. That's good, as far as it goes. Did you get me a mousetrap? Quii nods. And my candles. Quii nods. And a pin? Quii nods. I'm glad of that. I've never seen a pin. Of course you understand, Quii, that stealing is a sin. And that your conduct makes us very sad? Very, very sad. Will you promise to reform, and never, never steal again? Wait, wait! Give him the list of things to get tomorrow first. Dear me, I almost forgot. Quee, tie a string around your finger to remember by.
Now, what do you all want? A chain, a plane, a weather vane. A hat, a mat, a pussycat. A pound of brass. A pane of glass. A crock, a lock, an eight-day clock. A can, a pan, a pommely fan. A tack, a sack, an almanac. A can of soup. A chicken coop. A map, a cap, a snappy trap. A pole, a bowl, a baker's roll. A rake, a cake, a pound of steak. A peck of meal. A pickled eel. A slate, a plate, a ten-pound weight. That's all for tomorrow. But remember, young man, if it's a sin to steal a pin, how much worse it must be to steal a ten-pound weight. You appreciate that? Queen nods sadly. Brothers, we shall have to correct him again tomorrow night. He is incorrigible. Incorrigible! Now for the evening washing.
Get the basin, Quee. Glad that his daily scolding is over, Quee runs cheerfully and fetches a basin of water, a big sponge, and a towel. No flinching now, brothers. Line up. Right faces. They all, except Quee, stand close together and thrust their faces over one another's shoulders with eyes closed. Running down the line, Quee washes all their right cheeks with one long sweep of his sponge. They all turn and face in the opposite direction, and Qui, running up the line, washes all their other cheeks.
With a single sweep of his towel, Qui now dries all their right cheeks, and when Blick commands, he dries the opposite sides in the same neat and speedy way. And the evening washing is finished. There. That's over for another 24 hours. Thank goodness. Oh, come. It's quick and comparatively painless. Only, Cui gets dirtier and dirtier every year. But somebody must do it. He's the youngest. It's his duty. Nevertheless, he's a disgrace to the family. Cui bows his head in shame. I'm glad that you realize it, at least. And now...
supper. Supper. No hurry, it's been getting cold ever since breakfast. With lagging steps, they march to the table and are about to eat when Blick starts back in surprise. I say, someone's been drinking from my cup. Someone has eat my porridge up. And used my brand new knife to spread a monstrous corner of Kui's bread. Someone has used my fork. To break a quarter off my barley cake. One cherry's missing from my four. And good gracious how much more. They gaze at each other in amazement. Brothers, there must be robbers in the house. Or pirates. Or burglars. Probably burglars. If so, they are under the beds. Burglars always are. Hush. Let every man look under his own bed. Each dwarf creeps to his bed.
And pierced cautiously under it. Then, one after the other, they rise, shaking their heads and saying, Nobody under my bed. Nobody under my bed. Nobody under my bed. Nobody under my bed. Bleak is the last to rise, but as he does so, he sees Snow White and cries in a tense whisper, There's something in it. Look, brothers. In wonder, the dwarves creep about Blake's bed, and holding their lanterns high, gaze down upon the sleeping snow white. An awe of admiration breaks from their lips. What is it? I know. It's a child. No, it's a girl. I saw one once. Well, girl or child, it's the most beautiful thing I ever saw. Or I. Is it tame, or will it fly away like a bird when it wakes up? I've heard that children are quite tame, and they can talk.
Oh! I tell you, this isn't a child. It's a girl. I don't think girls can talk. They all heave a sigh of disappointment. I wish she'd stay with us, just so that we could look at her. She won't. Why not? Of course she won't. Are we handsome or young or tall? In fact, aren't we dwarfs? They all hang their heads. But if we didn't tell her that... Flick, I wonder at you. Besides, she might find it out. She's beautifully white and clean. Look, she's had the broom. She's been trying to sweep. I can't bear to think of her leaving us. None of us can. I'm going to stay up all night just to watch her. Do you think there's any way we can persuade her to stay? I'm afraid not. Even if we laid presents on her bed?
What kind of presents? Gold and diamonds? Oh, not common things like that. Really valuable things like... my jackknife! Oh, things like that. It might, but I'm afraid not. We might try anyhow. Let each man give the most valuable thing he has in the world. Blik collects the gifts. Each dwarf names his present lovingly as he takes it from his pocket. My thimble. My almanac. My empty bottle. And my pet frog. Laying the gifts gently on the foot of Snow White's bed. There. That may help. But no. It's no use, brothers. There's Kwee. Yes, there is we. We might hide him? She'd be sure to find him sooner or later. He might reform. But we could never pretend he wasn't dirty. He hasn't been washed for fifty years.
With a sudden inspiration. Brothers, why not wash him now? We might. We will. Flick, you're a genius. But it must be done at once, or he won't be dry by morning. Get the utensils. Here's the pump to douse him with. Here are suds to soaps him with. Here's the sponge to sop him with. Here's the broom to mop him with. Here's the soap to scrub him with. Here's the cloth to rub him with. They surround Kwee, who stands abashed, his finger in his mouth. Kwee, you are going to be... Washed! They carry him to the barrel, plump him in with a great splash, and pump on him. Then, as they scrub and rub and soap and stir him about in the water, I chant in chorus. Here's the pump to douse him with. Here are suds to souse him with.
Here's the sponge to sop him with. Here's the broom to mop him with. Here's the soap to scrub him with. Here's the cloth to rub him with. Rub. Scrub. Mop. Sop. Saus. Douse. Rub. Scrub. Mo. Sup. Saus. Douse. In their excitement, they forgot to be as quiet as they had meant to be, and Snow White stirs in her sleep. Then she wakes and sits up. Where is this? Oh, there are the children that live here. Why, they're not children. They have long beds. They're queer little old men. "'They'll never let me stay with them. But I must tell them I'm here.' She rises, and, standing by the bed, says shyly, "'I beg your pardon?' The dwarfs turn suddenly, with a little curtsy. "'I'm sorry if I have disturbed you, but I was lost in the forest, and when I saw your house I was so tired and hungry that I came in and took a little food, without asking.
Then I'm afraid I fell asleep.' She waits for an answer, but the dwarves gaze at her in silence, so she falters on. I'd pay for it, but I haven't any money.
So all I can do is to say thank you and good night. She moves reluctantly to the door.
The dwarves sigh deeply. She turns for a farewell curtsy. Thank you very much. She half shuts the door behind her, then reopens it to repeat. Good night. There is no answer, except another heavy sigh from the dwarfs.
With sudden pity, she bursts out. Oh, you're not dumb, are you? No, we're not dumb, but you're a girl, aren't you? Yes, I'm a girl. And young? I'm not very old. We don't know how to talk to young people. Well, most groaned people begin, why how you've grown? And usually the next thing is, how do you like your school? How you've grown? How do you like your school? Smiling, but a little embarrassed. Well, perhaps it is a little late for conversation. It's long past bedtime, isn't it? Long past. There are six of you and seven beds, aren't there? Hastily putting the cover on the barrel. Yes, there are seven beds. Oh, before I go, perhaps I ought to tidy the one I slept in. I didn't tumble it much.
She goes to the bed. What are these things on it? She starts back. Oh! What's a frog? It's alive! He was my frog. He's perfectly tame. What a funny thing to put on a bed. Edging toward her eagerly. They were meant to be presents. Presents? Is it Christmas here? We don't know. We don't know what Christmas is. Oh, somebody's birthday? No, it's nobody's birthday. Then I don't see. They were meant to be presents for you. For me? We were afraid you wouldn't like them. I knew you wouldn't like them. But I do like them. Do you mean that you're not angry with me? That you don't dislike me so very much? Dislike you? We think you're the most wonderful thing we've ever seen. Oh, you darlings! Oh, I beg your pardon.
Perhaps that wasn't respectful. Nobody ever called us darlings before, so we don't know. But it sounds nice. And you wouldn't mind if I should stay tonight? Only just tonight? We wouldn't mind if you should stay forever. Only just forever. Forever? Oh, will you? Oh, will you let me? Please let me live with you. I could be so useful. But our housekeeping... That's just how I could be useful. I can cook and sew and sweep and brew and make beds and, oh, lots of things. Will you excuse us a moment, please? He calls the dwarfs together and whispers to them. Did I hear right? Did she say she would stay? She did. Er, whatever shall we say? We don't know. Turning again to Snow White. Er, could you tell us what it's usual to say when you're so glad that it almost bursts you?
Would hip hip hooray do? It sounds right. Hip hip hurrah. Hip hip hurrah. Then, deciding that it does fit their feelings, they shout in a joyous outburst, HIP HIP HIP HRAH! Clapping her hands, Oh, please may I say HIP HIP HURRAY too? I am so glad and grateful. HIP HIP HIP HRAH! But, oh, you may not want me when I tell you who I am. It may be dangerous. Do you steal? No. Not so bad as that. My name is Snow White. It sounds extremely clean. This morning I was a princess. She sits on Blick's bed to tell her story. She is growing drowsy again. What's a princess? Why, the daughter of a king and queen. My stepmother is Queen Brangomar. She hates me so much that I am afraid there must be something horrid about me.
But I'm sure Prince Florimon didn't not like me, for— She sinks back onto the bed, and her eyes close. The dwarfs put their fingers to their lips. Then she revives a little, and murmurs— For a year and a day. Oh, what was I saying? I'm so sleepy.
Please, mayn't I tell you tomorrow night? All I can think of now is good night. Good night, Snow White. Good night. Good night, Snow White. Good night. Good night, Snow White. Good. There is a silence. Brothers, she's asleep, but she'll stay. She'll stay. Hi-hi-hi-ha-rah! I'm so happy I'm sad. Wiping away a tear with his long beard. I'm so happy it's making me cry. We're all so happy. They all wipe their eyes with their beards. We mustn't wake her. Not a sound now. We'll be quietest in bed. Each dwarf creeps toward his bed. She's in my bed. Well, I'll take flicks. He moves to the next bed, jumps in, and pulls the clothes over his head. Dwarfs always sleep with the bedclothes over their heads.
Of course, each of the others has to move up one bed. As they pop in, one after another, and to cover their heads, they cry, I'll take Glicks. I'll take Snicks. I'll take Plicks. I'll take Wicks. I'll take Quees. Sitting up suddenly, Brothers, we've forgotten Quee. They all sit bolt upright. Then in a whisper they call, Quee!
The cover of the water barrel is pushed up, and Cui's head appears. He is very wet, but washed as clean and pink as a new doll. Cui, she'll stay, but you'll have to sleep in the barrel. Cui, he disappears again into the barrel, and the curtain falls.
End of Scene Three
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5 04 - Scene IV: Where the Witch Lives 20:01
Where the Witch Lives. Witch-Hex lives in a queer, dark place. somewhat like a cavern, with walls of soft black moss. Yet it can't be underground, for looking out through the single entrance that serves for both door and window, you can see the moon, very big and low, and always shining day or night. A great fire blazes in the middle of the floor, and over it stands a boiling cauldron. Against the wall is a large chest, carved with strange signs, in which the witch keeps her magic things. Curled up asleep by the fire lies her pet cat, Fiddle. Fiddle is enormous for a cat, almost as big as a small boy. Presently he wakes, yawns, and has a long stretch, shaking the last sleepiness out of both hind legs.
Then he washes his face carefully, round and round with his paw. He feels hungry, so he rubs his stomach, but as that doesn't do much good, he looks about for something to eat. A large tin with holes bored in the cover stands on the chest, and he remembers seeing his mistress sprinkle something from this over her food. So he lies down on his back luxuriously, and... Licking his chops, takes the tin in both hind paws and shakes it vigorously over his open mouth. But suddenly, with an enormous yowl, he leaps into the air, coughing, blinking, sneezing, and mewing all at once. What he found was the witch's pepper-pot. The pepper makes him feel extremely lively, and now he spies a loose end of yarn dangling from an old spinning wheel that stands in a dark corner.
He bounds to it and pats the swinging end to and fro. But the wall catches one, one of his sharp claws, and he cannot throw it off. He rolls on the ground to break it, but the yarn is strong and only binds him round and round. Now he is frightened and begins to run and whirl and spring into the air. But with every movement, the thread, unwinding from the wheel, wraps him closer and closer. And the more he spins and turns, and samussaults head over heels, the more tangled he gets, till at last he cannot move a paw or even swing his indignant tail, and lies on his back a helpless, mewing bundle. Fortunately, at this moment, there is a shadow across the moon, and Witch-Hex flies home, riding on her broomstick, a basket on her arm.
The Witch, Alighting and setting her broomstick away. There. Glad to be home at last. Where is Queen Brangomar? I thought she'd be here before me with Snow White's heart. I had to go halfway to the moon for the other ingredients for that magic hair restorer, but I've got them all safe in my basket. Where is that lazybones cat of mine? Fiddle, fiddle, fiddle! The only answer is a faint mew from something like a huge ball of yarn in the corner. The witch examines it, and then breaks into a laugh. Well, Fiddle, whatever have you been up to now? Oh-ho, playing with my spinning wheel. Well, you are a snarl. Wait, I'll unwind you. She seizes one end of the yarn and winds it into a ball, but so quickly that...
Poor Fiddle, at the other end, spins and whirls and revolves like a top as she unwinds him, and the witch laughs at his antics until the tears stream down her withered old cheeks. When he is free, Fiddle has to sit in a corner and hold his head in both paws for dizziness. But, picking up her basket, the witch says, Now come here and help me mix that magic hair-restorer. We must do all the other ingredients. Together, before Brangimar comes, the witch and fiddle dance round and round the cauldron in a mystic circle. And as Hex throws the various things she has collected into the boiling brew, she sings, A hair from the tail of a ride-a-cock horse, a lace from the old woman's shoe. A bit of the tuffet of Little Miss Muffet, the blast of the little boy blue.
A tear of the kittens who lost all their mittens when they began to cry. A sniff from Miss Mary when she was contrary, the plum from Jack Horner's pie. A slice of green cheese from the man in the moon, the tails of the three blind mice, a bone from the cupboard of old mother Hubbard, and little girl's sugar and spice, a tick from the clock of Hidickory Dock, the tails of the sheep of Bo-Peep, the eye of the fly that saw Cockrobin die, and the bah from the bah black sheep. When she has finished the mixture, the witch sniffs the steam from the cauldron, and then sips a little of the brew from the ladle.
Tastes good, and hot enough. Yes, the ladle is red hot. Now that's all except the heart. Fiddle, set the kettle to cool. Fiddle takes the cauldron from over the fire and sets it in the corner. It's chilly. She tucks up her skirts and sits down comf- Ah, that feels good. Nothing to do now but wait for Snow White's heart. But then you shall see what you shall see. A beautiful head of long wavy hair. Ah, here's Brangomar at last. Queen Brangomar enters. Fiddle bows low to her. Sorry to be late, dear Hexy, but Berthold never returned till morning, and then I had to see personally to having him locked up in the grey tower. He made a frightful fuss, but I was afraid to trust him. Did he bring the heart?
Yes, here it is. Oh, how I hated that child. Hair restorers just ready for it. Help me up. Don't like to sit on the fire too long. I dozed off the other day and boiled over. Now the heart. She takes it and hobbles to the cauldron. Receipt says that when I add this, the brew will turn beautiful pink. Then I dip in my head and presto! Long, lovely hair. Now watch. She drops the heart into the cauldron, which steams vigorously, dancing with delight. See it steam! But it's turning green, not pink. So it is. Still, there can't be any mistake. I was most careful. Well, here goes for a handsome head of hair. You'll hardly know me when you see me again. She dips her head three times into the steaming cauldron, and then raises it proudly.
How's that? Pretty fine, eh? Surely something has sprouted on the witch's bald pate. The queen looks carefully, and then bursts into a peal of laughter and fiddle, holding his sides, rolls on the ground in mirth. What are you laughing at? Feels very thick and curly. Stop that cackling. Oh, my dear Hex! You have a head full of pigtails! Pigtails? Nonsense. It's short and curly. Not pigtails, Hexy. Your head is covered with the little white, curly tails of pigs. She feels the growth carefully. By hopscotch, they are pig's tails. Stop laughing. If the joke's on anybody, it's on you. Instead of a human heart, your precious huntsman has brought back the heart of a pig. And Miss Snow White is alive this moment.
Ha ha for you. What? Snow White's alive? If these are pigs' tails, that was a pig's heart. Ask your magic mirror if Snow White's not alive. Seizing the mirror which hangs from her girdle, Mirror, mirror, in my hand, who's the fairest in the land? You who hold me in your hand, you were fairest in the land, but today I answer true. Snow White is more fair than you. Snow White alive! She starts to dash the mirror to the ground, seizing it. Be careful with that, mirror, I tell you. Mirror, mirror, truly tell, where doth Princess Snow White dwell? Mid the ancient forest tells, with the seven dwarves she dwells. You see, your deceitful huntsman has let Snow White escape, and brought back a pig's heart to fool us with.
Snow White has found the house of the seven dwarves, and there you are, my merry lady. The seven dwarves? Who are they? Rather nice little men. Sort of gnomes. Live all alone. Never saw them myself. Wrapping her cloak about her. Where do they live? Oh-ho! Intend to deal with Snow White yourself this time, do you? Where do they live? The usual way is about twenty miles over the mountains. But there's a shortcut through my backyard. Less than a mile away. Give me a knife or a dagger, quickly. What? Walk into the dwarves' house, knife in hand, and crown on your head like that? I'd sooner dance into a hornet's nest. Really, Brangimar? If I were you, I'd swap brains with a grasshopper. But what shall I do?
She's alive! She's more beautiful than I. My heart will burn itself out of my body like a lie of coal. Tell me some way. Deary me. Have I got to plan it all out for you again? You're a nuisance. How? How? There's only one safe way. Yes? First, I must transform you into a different-looking person altogether. And then? And then give you some means of disposing of Snow White that the dwarves can't trace back to you. Fiddle, fetch me the deadly poison things. Ah, poison! Yes, that's it! Fiddle fetches an odd-looking box full of strange articles from the magic chest. Examining them... Almost none left. A pair of poison slippers, no use. Poison pipe, no. Oh, here! The best thing in the box, the poisoned apple.
Beautiful, isn't it? Only the red side is poisoned. The white side is perfectly good. If you want to tempt anybody, eat the white side yourself. But the least bite of the red side, and down they drop like a tombstone. But no, you're not clever enough to be trusted with that. Ah, here we are. The poisoned comb. The very thing. Let me see it. She sees as the jeweled comb. Put that in Snow White's hair, let it stay there while you count to one hundred. And that's all over with her. It doesn't work instantly like the apple, but it's much safer with a stupid person like you. How my fingers itch to set this in her black hair. Now, what disguise? Disguise? Oh, yes. Fiddle, bring me the transformation mixtures.
Fiddle brings from the chest three R-shaped bottles. One filled with green. One with purple, and one with orange liquid. Are these all? My entire stock of magic's running out. Lucky I'm going to retire from business next year. Attempting to seize a bottle. Let me see. Don't snatch. Wretched manners. I'll read the labels.
Five drops before breakfast. Well, I declare I've written out the doses most carefully, but totally forgotten what they change people into. But that's easily remedied. A drop of each in the cauldron, and you'll see for yourself. Now watch. She reads one. She pours a few drops from the green bottle into the cauldron. Instantly, a cloud of steam rises, and in the steam... Dimly at first, and then quite clearly, appears the figure of an old and wrinkled hag in threadbare garments. On one arm, she carries a large basket filled with ribbons, laces, needles, thread, and such articles. I remember. The old peddler woman disguise. Just the thing. You could pretend to be selling Snow White the comb. But let's see what the others are anyhow.
She pours some drops from the purple bottle into the cauldron. The image of the peddler woman vanishes. In its place appears the figure of a small naked baby. Oh, the baby! I used that once myself. Caught an awful cold, too. Useless for you. Now how about this orange mixture? She pours from the orange bottle. This time the image is that of a stout, jovial, red-faced man. He wears an apron and has a green patch over one eye. Balanced on his head, he carries a tray full of various sorts of pies. That's the one-eyed pieman. Good, but not as good as the peddler woman for your purpose. What is a pieman? Man who sells pies, stupid. What did you suppose? But a pieman wouldn't be selling combs. Peddler woman it is.
Green bottle. Dose one tablespoonful with peppermint after. Haven't got any peppermint, but that was only to take away the taste. She produces a spoon and uncorks the bottle. Is the taste very bad? Vile. Really one of the nastiest tastes I've ever made. Open your mouth. Uh, is being transformed painful? No, but unpleasant. Feels as though you were being turned inside out like a glove. Open your mouth. I think- I think, on the whole, I'll wait till tomorrow. You see, I have an important tea party at court this afternoon, and... Oh ho! Cowardly, cowardly custard. Here, Fiddle, here's sport for you. Get the black mantle. From the chest, Fiddle whisks a large black cloth embroidered with strange-looking symbols, and advances toward the Queen.
What is he going to do? Wrap you up so you can't scratch while I pour this down your throat. But I'm not ready. I must go home first. She makes a dash for the door. But Fiddle is before her. Then begins a lively chase about the cave, the queen running and dodging, Fiddle following and trying to throw the black mantle over her head. The witch enjoys it all, hugely, crying, Run, Brangamar! Catch her Fiddle! and slapping her old knees with delight till she is quite out of breath. At last, Fiddle succeeds in cornering Queen Brangamar, and throws the mantle over her head. Well done, Fiddle, well done. Trip her up and sit on her. Fiddle does so. The witch also sits down on the squirming queen, and humming happily to herself.
Pours out a tablespoonful of the green mixture. Now where is her mouth? I won't take it. I won't. Oh, there it is! Thank you, Brangimar. She pours the dose through the cloth into the Queen's mouth, and as the Queen writhes, she goes on. I know it tastes bad, but nothing to make such a fuss about. Suddenly, she holds up a warning finger. I feel her changing. Do you? Fiddle nods. Done. Up with her, off with the mantle. Let's see the result. Fiddle draws off the mantle. Lo, the queen has been transformed into the likeness of the old peddler woman, just as it appeared in the steam. Basket of goods and all. Splendid. Wouldn't recognize you myself, Brangomar. Hope you haven't lost the poison comb. No, here it is in your hand.
Now, it wasn't half as bad as you thought it would be, was it? It was awful. Why, is this my voice? Of course. Different voice with every disguise. I'm all cramps, too. How do I change back? Dear me, luckily you thought to ask. I might have forgotten. Just say, Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old. But say it backwards, like this. Old days nine, pot in the porridge peas, cold porridge peas, hot porridge peas. That turns you right side out again. I must remember, let me see, old days nine. But the witch claps her hand over Brangamore's mouth. Gracious woman, don't say it yet. We'd have to do this all over again. Really, you are the most senseless. Oh, be off with you.
I've had quite enough of you for one day. Now for Snow White. Oh, Hex, once I set this in her hair and see her lying dead... Dead before my own eyes. Don't forget to count to one hundred. It will be the happiest moment of my life, nasty disposition. Going to the door. You shan't escape me this time, my little beauty. You have no soft-hearted birthold to deal with now, but Brangomar, Brangomar her very self. And off she strides toward the house of the Seven Dwarfs. Left alone with Fiddle. The witch goes to the blazing fire and again sits down upon it thoughtfully. Poor little Snow White. I'm afraid her goose is cooked this time. I'm really sorry for her. I don't bear her any ill will in spite of my pig's tails.
Fiddle, bring my mirror. Fiddle brings the mirror, and Witch Hex studies her new appearance carefully. Oh! Not so bad after all. They're quite becoming. Sure to keep their curl in the dampest weather, and certainly the very latest thing.
The curtain falls.
End of Scene Four
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6 05 - Scene V: The House of the Seven Dwarfs 26:44
In the House of the Seven Dwarfs. The room is the same as before, but quite transformed by Snow White's housekeeping. It shines with cleanness. There are white coverlets on all the beds, curtains at the window, and flowers on the window sill. Snow White's silver dress has been carefully put away, and she wears a little frock made of squirrel skins and trimmed with bright leaves. It is early in the morning, and the dwarfs are just starting off for the day's work. Each carries a neat little basket of luncheon, which Snow White has put up, and each wears a bright bow tie, which she has made for him. They are so proud of these ties that they have parted their beards over their shoulders to show them.
Snow White has just finished tying Quee's bow. She pats it into shape, kisses him, and says, There! Off you go! Couldn't you please give us all another kiss? No, indeed. Just one? Not one. A little one? No. That's the rule. One a day, morning and night, but not both. You see, none of us ever, uh... should I say ate or tasted a kiss till you came, so perhaps we are a little eager about them. I should say you were. Why, you perfect children about kisses and games. That comes of our being dwarfs. You see, no dwarf is ever born till he's fifty. So, as we've never been young, we enjoy games all the more now. Oh, I understand, you little old death, but I still mustn't spoil you. And that reminds me, you're not to come home any more in the middle of the morning to play games.
Tuesday you came back at eleven, Wednesday at ten, and yesterday morning at nine. What sort of weight of work is that? I know, but— Now, not a moment before five today, because— This is a secret. I'm going to make an enormous cake with sugar frosting for supper. Now, off with you. Well, brothers, ready. Today we go into the forest for firewood. March. In their usual military file, the dwarfs march off into the forest. Snow White stands in the doorway, waving her hand after them, Till they are out of sight. Then, with a little sigh of content, she returns to the room. Oh, I'm so happy here. I've never been so happy in all my life. Of course, I miss their maids of honour and the others, but the dwarfs are so funny and loving and kind.
She looks out of the window. It's a beautiful day. I wonder if I shall ever see Prince Florimonde again. Stop that, Snow White. You wander about here much too often. Remember, you're not a princess any more, only just a housekeeper to the seven dwarfs. You must forget all about the other things. To work! Now for that cake. She fetches the mixing bowl. As she does so, the little brown bird that guided her through the forest flies to the window, perches on the sill, and gives his call. "'Ah, my little brown bird! Back again for your morning crumbs! Here they are!' She scatters the crumbs, but instead of eating them, the little bird breaks into full song. "'Not hungry? Just come to sing for me. You dare!' The song is so merry that she dances a step or two.
"'Whenever you sing, brown bird, I feel like dancing. But I do need somebody to dance with. The dwarfs never can learn.' Just then she spies a big white butterfly that is fluttering gaily by the window. Oh, there's a big white butterfly. I wonder if it would come and dance with me. She runs to the open door and calls. White butterfly, white butterfly, will you come and dance with Snow White? Oh, it's coming, it's coming. Sing, little brown bird. The butterfly is coming to dance with me. And indeed the butterfly does follow her into the room. And flits about here and there, now just within her grasp, now high over her head. And Snow White, now pursuing it, now letting it follow her, does contrive a little romping dance with her new friend.
And all the time the little brown bird sings lustily on the window-sill. Suddenly the brown bird stops singing and flies away, and the white butterfly darts to the door and flutters up among the tree-tops. Oh, don't stop, little bird. We want to go on. Where are you going, white butterfly? They've both flown away. They seem frightened. She turns to see what has frightened them. The queen, disguised as the peddler woman, is leaning in at the window. Snow White's hand springs to her heart. Oh! Did I frighten you, dearie? No harm in an old peddler woman. You did startle me. So that's the way you pass your time in the forest, is it? Singing and dancing. What a thing it is to be rich. But I'm not rich.
I suppose I'm very poor now. I've come a weary way. I'm that worn and footsore. Oh, do come in. I'm so sorry. Entering. Thank you, dearie. I'll just bar the door behind me for fear of the rheumatic draughts. I've been wandering days and days in this forest, and never met a soul to buy the least trinket of me. I'm afraid I don't think a deserted forest is a very good place to sell things. But you will buy some little thing, my pet. Some pretty little thing. I'm awfully sorry, but... Don't any of my pretty things tempt you? And cheap? Really costs more to sell em than they're worth. Look, sweetheart. Here's ribbons and laces and gentlemen's braces, a feather as white as foam, a chain and a locket, a purse for your pocket, and oh, what a beautiful comb.
Just see what a beautiful comb. Here's bangles and spangles, a bracelet with dangles, a necklace with beads from Rome, an outfit for cross-stitch, the egg of an ostrich. But oh, what a beautiful comb! That comb, a really magnificent comb. Here's powder in patches and lucifer matches, a motto with home sweet home, and trimmings for frockings and stockings with clockings. But nothing so fine as this comb. This comb, just look what a beautiful comb. They're very attractive, but I've no money. Now that's too bad, dearie. I don't hardly feel as if I could go without leaving some little thing behind me. Rather make you a present, so I would. Oh, I couldn't take a present from you. I ought to be giving you something instead.
You gave me kind words and bid me in friendly. I'll tell you what. If you've no money, I'll make you a free gift, sweetheart. I couldn't really. I'm set on it, my lamb, set on it. Name your choice and yours it shall be. Well, since you're so very kind, I'll take—that spool of thread. Spool of thread, indeed! Would you mock a poor body? Now, what do you say to this comb? That? Why, that's the finest thing you have. Just why I give it to you, my dear, and the lovely it will look a-shining in your black hair. Shrinking away. No, no, I couldn't take anything so valuable. Come dearie, just let me put it in for you, and then if you don't like the look of it, well, I'll say no more and be on my way.
I should like to see how it looks. Just for fun. That's my pet. That's my sweetheart. Now sit you down. Snow White sits on a stool. And shut your eyes so you shan't peep till it's in. Are they shut? Yes, tight shut. Then here go. She puts the poisoned comb in Snow White's hair. For a moment, Snow White does not move. Then, with a little moan, she rises, swaying. Oh, my head! My head! She tries to put her hand to her head, but suddenly she totters, falls in a heap on the floor, and lies quite still. The peddler woman watches her for a moment, then cries exultingly. Aha! So, my dear stepdaughter, Queen Brangomar laughs laughed after all. Now to count to one hundred while the poison works. One, two, three, four, five.
What's that? Steps are heard outside the little house. They come nearer. There is a knock at the door, and Blick's voice is heard. Snow White, it's us, the dwarfs. Open the door.
The dwarfs! They'll tear me to pieces if they find me here. I must hide her. Where? Where? She looks about for a place to hide Snow White, and seeing no other hope, drags the big table over her and pulls the tablecloth down to hide her. Meantime, the dwarfs knock more and more impatiently. Please open Snow White. We haven't come back for games, honestly. We want to go down into the mines again. The peddler woman crouches along the wall, looking for some means of escape. Snow White! Snow White! Snow White! Brothers, there's something wrong. The window. The dwarfs run to the window and look in. They spy the crouching peddler woman, realizing that she is caught and ducking and curtsying. Oh, it's you!
Open the door. Yes, indeed, Your Honors. At once, Your Honors. Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four. Quickly, I tell you. Yes, Your Honors. She throws the door open. The dwarfs rush in fiercely, their little knives drawn and surround the peddler-woman. What are you doing here? Where is Snow White? Safe and sound, my little gentleman, but I've scarce breath to tell you. Just give me thirty seconds, or thirty-one, or thirty-two, or thirty-three. What are you mumbling? I was passing with my basket of wares. Blick makes a threatening gesture, and she hurries on with a little cry. Ah! Just passing! When your sweet little lady calls me to step in. Where is she now? She stepped into the forest on an errand and bid me mind the house till she got back.
Errand? What errand? How long has she been gone? A matter of seconds, Your Honor. Fifty seconds, maybe, or fifty-one, or fifty-two, or fifty-three, or fifty-four. Well, you need stay no longer. Go. Yes, Your Honors. Certainly, Your Honors. She goes curtsying to the door, but turns to say, Could you tell a poor peddling body how far it might be to the next town? Is it fifty-five miles now, or fifty-six, or fifty-seven, or—? Be off, or we'll lay hands on you. With a little scream, the peddler woman makes off. But as she passes the window, she is heard still counting. Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty, sixty-one— Till her voice dies away in the distance. Brothers, something's wrong. What errand could Snow White have in the forest?
And why didn't we meet her? She'd never leave the house in her charge. Unless she was frightened. And ran away. That's it! She may be hiding in the forest now. Quick, brothers, go east, west, north, and I'll go south. All the dwarfs rush out except Blick, who hesitates. Yet it's not like Snow White to be frightened. I wonder. Suddenly he spies something on the floor near the table. It is one of Snow White's slippers that came off when she fell, and which the peddler woman had overlooked. What's that? Her slipper? Brothers! Brothers! She is here! Here is her slipper! Search the house! The dwarfs rush back into the room, and begin to seek under the beds and behind the pump, but Flick pulls up the tablecloth and cries.
Look, here she is. They move the table away and kneel about her in consternation. She has fainted. Water. Is she hurt? Unlace her bodice. It's loose. She's breathing, faintly. What's that in her hair? A comb. She never wore it before. Out with it. He draws the comb from Snow White's hair, but suddenly hurls it away, crying. Ooh, it burned my fingers. Poisoned? Look! Snow White's eyelids flutter and she sighs. See? Her eyes! She's coming, too!
Oh! What... what happened? Snow White! I was talking with the old peddler woman. Ah, the old woman. And... where is she? Why, there's the comb! The comb? She wanted to give it to me. I let her put it in my hair just to see how it looked, and then I must have fainted. Brothers, that comb was poisoned. She tried to poison our Snow White. To poison me? Perhaps it may have been the comb. But you didn't. You saved me, didn't you, my dear brothers? I'm all alive again, and quite well. See? She rises. Brothers. He draws his knife, and the others follow his example. SNICK, you stay to guard Snow White. The rest follow me. They hasten toward the door, stopping them. Where are you going? To catch that peddler woman.
Oh, please don't. Why should she want to poison me? The only one who might want to harm me is Queen Brangomar. Snow White, I believe that was Queen Brangomar. Oh, no! Brangomar is very beautiful. But she knows magic. She may have disguised herself. Come, brothers. Barring the way. Oh, please, please don't go. She might harm you. Harm us? Let me go, Snow White. Clinging to him. No, no! Listen! If that was Brangomar, she'll think I'm all dead now, and won't try again. But if she finds out that I'm still alive, she might. Don't you see? I see, but... Oh, I ask you, please. It's not fair to ask us, please. But I do. I ask you, please. Please, please. As he sheathes his knife. Well, this time. But brothers, we must guard our princess more carefully in the future.
Yes, indeed. Snow White, promise that when we're away... You will keep the door barred and never let anyone in. No matter who they are. No matter what they look like. Oh, I am not afraid. But you must promise solemnly. Oh, very well, I promise. Truly, Ruly, Black and Bluly, cross my heart. Now let's forget all about such disagreeable things. I'll tell you, let's declare this morning a holiday. Dancing with delight. A HOLIDAY! And we'll all play a game before you go back to the mines. Hip-hip-hurrah! Shall we play Blind Man's Buff, or Puss in the Corner, or Snap the Whip? Blind Man's Buff, Puss in the Corner, and Snap the Whip! All three? Well, Blind Man's Buff first. Clear away! They clear the floor for games, and begin with Blind Man's Bluff.
The dwarfs always want Snow White to choose who shall be blindfolded. They never can agree among themselves. And she chooses Glick. Now, Glick is a very spry old fellow, and he nearly catches Wick on the very first dash. So nearly that Wick only escapes by crawling under a bed. Next, he corners Cui. But Cui is so small that he creeps out between Glick's legs. It is a long while before Glick can touch anybody else, and indeed he only catches Snick at last, because Snick trips over his own long beard and falls flat. Even then it takes Glick some time to tell whom he has caught, for the dwarfs are all very much alike. But at last Glick feels a bump on Snick's bald head that came at least a hundred and twenty-five years ago, when an enormous diamond fell on him in the mines, and has never gone away again.
Next, they play Puss in the Corner, and get so excited about it that they clamber all over the clean, starched coverlets that Snow White had only just finished ironing. So she is relieved when the game is over. Finally comes Snap the Whip. They snap it so hard that when the line breaks, they all fall down, puffing and holding their old sides. And Little Quee, the Snapper, has to turn four complete somersaults before he can stop. No sooner have they got breath again than they all surround Snow White, dancing up and down and crying. More! More! More! More! But she shakes her head firmly. Dear me, no. Remember, I have that cake to bake before supper. You really must go, and don't come back till five.
Oh, please make it four. Go half past anyhow. No, five. Not a moment sooner. Well, brothers, march. And down they all file into the underground passage, leaving Snow White alone. Hasn't this been a morning? I only got as far with that cake as a bowl. Now, first a flour. She puts some flour in the bowl, and then suddenly remembers. Gracious! I almost forgot my promise to bar the door. She bars the door. But as she does so, she hears, in the forest, a distant sort of chanting song. It comes nearer. What's that? Somebody's singing? I was only just in time. Why, they're coming here? You can hear the words of the chanting clearly now. They are... Anybody want to buy any sort of baker's pie? Pies, pies, pies, pies, pies!
Oh, a bakey man selling pies. Really, people do have the most curious idea about this forest. The person coming is, as a matter of fact, Queen Brangimar in another disguise. She suspected that the dwarfs might take the comb from Snowhide's hair before the poison had time to do its work. So she hastened back to the witch, who wasn't a bit glad to see her, and with a dose from the orange bottle transformed herself again, this time into the likeness of the one-eyed pieman. Then she, or I suppose I should say he, hastened back to the forest, and now, after spying about to make sure that the dwarfs are not near, has approached the house with the tray of pies on his head. The pieman close behind the door now.
Anybody want to buy any sort of baker's pie? Pies! Pies! Pies! Pies! Pies! He knocks at the door.
Snow White does not answer. The pieman goes to the window and looks in. Hello. Didn't you hear me knock? I'm sorry, but I can't let you in. Oh, cooking, I see. Just ready to mix, eh? That's my line of business. Baker. Pies. All kinds. Pumpkin, custard, veal and ham, chocolate, lemon, squash and lamb, gooseberry, blueberry, peach and quince, chicken, coconut, apple, mince. I really don't want any, thank you. Of course not. No good cook would ever eat a baker's pie, and you are a good cook. Well, I've had some experience. I can tell that by the hitch of your apron. Now, my specialty is apple pies, and... Oh, please don't offer to give me one. I couldn't take it. Who was offering? I just wanted to ask your opinion.
I beg your pardon. Of course I'll give you my opinion. You know that old apple tree half a mile back? Do those apples make good pies? I don't know. They look splendid. Here's one I picked. It's as red and white as your face. If it is a good pie apple, I'll go back and get a sack full. You can't tell from the looks, you know. Some are too sweet and some are too sour. Well, taste and we'll compare opinions. You eat the red half and I'll eat the white. He splits the apple in two and tosses the red half through the window into Snow White's apron. Catch!
Mmm, just right to me. Sweet and sour. Snow White starts to taste her half, but then, with a faint suspicion, she sets it down and says, Thank you, but I don't eat between meals.
What, temper touchy? Well, I don't blame you. Often feel like that myself on baking days. But this tastes to me like a prime pie apple. I advise you to get some. Look to your baking. Good day. Anybody want to buy any sort of baker's pie? Pies! Pies! Pies! Pies! Pies! He makes off into the forest. I was horrid to him. He only wanted my advice. He didn't try to come in. It is the splendid apple. She looks at it longingly. If it's good, I could make the dwarfs an apple dumpling apiece. He ate his half. She bites the red cheek of the apple. Suddenly she grasps her throat, whirls about once, falls, and lies quite still. After a moment, the face of the pieman appears at the window, peering in cautiously.
Ah, she did taste it. I thought she would if I went away. But there must be no mistake this time. No more mistakes. He leans through the window, and with his staff, pries up the bar that fastens the door. First, off with this disguise. Old days nine. Pot in the porridge peas. Cold porridge peas. Hot porridge peas. And instantly the pieman's outward appearance changes. And it is Queen Brangamar in her royal robes that sweeps into the room, and hastens to Snow White's body. Kneeling beside Snow White. No breath, no heart, quite dead at last. This time, my lady, white as snow, red as blood and black as ebony, the dwarfs cannot wake you. But I must hide that. She picks up the apple. They mustn't trace me.
Then rising, she strides to the door and cries. Now, you wretched little dwarfs, you miserable little gnomes, you moles, you earthworms, bring her to life this time if you can. I defy you. Queen Brangamire defies you. She rushes off into the wood, crying as she goes. Dead at last, at last, at last. Hardly has the queen's voice died away when the stone over the underground passage is lifted and Blick appears. Did you call, Snow White? I was standing guard, and I thought I heard— He sees Snow White's prostrate body. He goes to her and touches her hand. It is cold. With a voice of agony, he cries down the passage. Brothers! Brothers! The curtain falls. After a moment, it rises again. It is moonlight now, and the dwarfs— With lighted lanterns are grouped about the bed on which they have laid Snow White.
All day long they have tried to restore her. They have bathed her face with water and wine, and fanned her, and chafed her little hands and feet. But without avail. After a long silence, Blake speaks. There is no hope, my brothers. There is nothing more to do. Our Snow White. is dead. One by one, they kneel about her silently, but little Quix, unable to restrain his tears, falls sobbing at her feet. Again, the curtain falls. End of scene 5
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7 06 - Scene VI: A Glade in the Deep Wood 8:45
The dwarfs have laid snow-white in a coffin made all of clear crystal and wrought silver, and set it in this secret glade. The glade is near to the house, but so encircled by great trees as to be hidden from every side. Here, for nearly a year, they have watched over her, day and night, two watching at a time. Every morning they weave a fresh pall of ferns and wild flowers to lay over the coffin when the sun has risen high. And so covered, it looks like a phony mound blossoming. Tonight, Snick and Flick are on watch. They sit silent for a time. The moon has been up for an hour. It is about time Blick came to take my place. I wish it were always my turn to watch. I have no heart for anything else.
Nor I, brother. Nor I. Here comes Blick now. Why is he running? Blick enters breathless. Danger! Put out your lanterns. A man has been prowling about the forest since sundown. He's ragged and wild and carries a knife. We have surrounded him. We'll pounce out and bind him, but he looks strong. We shall need you, Snick. Flick must guard alone. Come this way, but keep behind trees. The others are closing in. They creep off. Flick, left alone, covers the coffin with the pall, and then goes to the edge of the glade. Ah, I see him. He has come out into the open. They are stealing up behind him. He sees them. His knife is out. Quick, quick, brothers. They have him now. Down he goes like a falling tree.
Bind him fast, brothers. This way, this way! Presently, the other dwarfs drag the strange man to the spot. They have bound him with many ropes. His clothes are ragged, and he looks unkempt and wild. It is Berthold the Huntsman. Let him get up, but take away his knife. They wrest Berthold's knife from him. He staggers to his feet. What is all this? The first I know I am on my back and bound. Who are you that are so little and so strong? We are the seven dwarfs of this forest. What are you doing in our domain? Dwarfs? I mean you no harm. What are you doing here? I'm seeking someone who was lost here, lost long ago. But I must search every inch of this wood. Let me go. Tell us who you are. No. We shall keep you prisoner till you do.
I cannot tell you. Bind him to a tree till he's ready to speak. No, no, let me go. I must search all night. I must not lose a moment. If I tell you why I'm searching, will you let me go? We make no promises. You have good faces. I will trust you. A year ago in this forest I left a young girl. I cannot tell you why, but, oh, I thought it wise at the time. I was to come back next day and care for her, but when I reached the city I was seized and imprisoned. Can he be? Hush. Tuppertold. Go on. It has taken me a whole year to escape. I dug a tunnel under the prison tower with that broken knife. I first saw daylight yesterday. I stopped only to hide my children, then I fled here to the forest to search.
I have little hope. How could she live a year? But I must search. Now will you let me go?" There is a moment's silence. Blick consults the others with a look, and replies. If you can answer three questions, we will let you go. Questions? Who was the woman who imprisoned you? Woman? How did you know that? It was a woman, and the wickedest on this earth, Queen Brangimar. Your name is Berthold? You know me. Who was the child? Her name was Snow White. Loose him, brothers. Quickly, the dwarfs stripped the ropes from Berthold's arms. But he cries out. Mr. Brown. No, no, do not stop for that. Do you know anything of her? Tell me, in pity's name, is she alive? Alas, poor Berthold, one look will tell you more than many words.
Brothers, uncover her. Reverently, two of the dwarfs strip back the paw from the coffin and reveal Snow White. Her little silver dress gleams in the moonlight. She looks as fair as if she had just fallen asleep. With a cry, Bertolt sinks on his knees beside her. Snow White! Oh, my princess! Dead! I knew it must be so, but I hoped against hope. She wandered to us in the forest. She lived with us. We cared for her. Once before she was in peril and we saved her. But this time we came too late. When did it happen? Yesterday? No, many months ago. But her red lips have never paled, nor her white skin looked less fair than Snow. We could not bear to hide her away in the black earth, so we made this coffin of crystal and silver, and wrote her name upon it, the Princess Snow White, and here we watch over her night and day.
We loved her so. You could not love her more than I. His head sinks on his arms, and he sobs. With a quick gesture, Blick gathers the dwarfs about him and whispers to them. Brothers, he loved her, and he is a man. Let us ask what he would do. Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Blick gently replaces the pall. No, no, do not cover her. Let me look at her always. Berthold, is it enough to watch? Month after month we have watched. But we are dwarfs. We thought a man would not be satisfied to weep. Mr. Brown. You do well to rouse me. She shall be avenged. The dwarfs look at one another, their eyes burning with excitement. But Blick goes on quietly. Ah, that is what we have longed to do. How we have longed. Mr. Brown.
But you have done nothing. What could we do? He bows his head. We are dwarfs. We knew nothing of the world of men and cities. We hoped that her enemy might someday creep back here. But we are not even sure who... Sure? It was Brangomar, the only enemy our little princess ever had. And Brangomar is... a queen. Upon a throne. With a great court about her. In a great city. Full of tall people. Bursting out with passionate eagerness. But do not think we are afraid, no. We will follow if you will but lead us. Say you will lead us, Berthold. I will lead you. You are my brothers now. You know the way? Like my name. Is it very far? If we journey all night, we shall see the city walls by noon. How many people make a city?
Shall we fight all the court? Will they? Will they laugh at us? Laugh? Not for long. The people love her even as we do. You shall bear her on your shoulders. When they see her, they will rise to avenge her, and, to the queen, death. Death. We will enter the city, crying, In the name of our Princess Snow White. In the name of our Princess Snow White. Lift her up and come. Gently the dwarfs raise Snow White's coffin on their shoulders, and following Berthold, March out of the moonlit glade, and into the deep shadow of the forest on their way to the city, as the curtain falls.
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8 07 - Scene VII: The Throne Room of the Palace 19:39
Scene, seven, the throne room of the palace. Sir Dandy Pratt is standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by all the maids of honor. He looks puzzled and distressed. To Sir Dandypratt. Of course it's today that Snow White is coming home. It's a year and a day to die. We thought of course you knew. Dear me, are you sure? It's most important. She went away to school on the 20th of June. Last year. And today is the 21st. This year. So it must be a year and a day today. Poo, that's not the way to reckon it. It ought to be done with arithmetic. Let me see. He shuts his eyes and repeats. Thirty days has September, April, June, and... That's no use. Oh, I know. I know now. How many days are there in a year?
Hiding a smile. Three hundred and sixty-five, usually. I've got it now. Quiet, quiet. I take June 20th. He writes on his tablet with his big gold pencil. And add. Three hundred and sixty-five. Sure to arrive on June the three hundred and eighty-fifth. Hmm. That can't be right. It's most puzzling. Prince Florimond comes today, too. What? Prince Florimond, too? Of course. To be engaged to Snow White. The prince coming, and nothing arranged? Nothing! No one ever tells me anything in this courtroom. He may be here any moment. And all the armies are hunting for Bothold, and the dukes and duchess scattered all over the place, playing croquet. I shall go distracted. I shall go distracted. He hurries out on to the terrace, and first turns to the right, then to the left, then to the right again, before he can finally make up his foolish old mind to go to the left, and waddles out of sight.
I hope Snow White will come before the Prince does. I shall hug her to death. I didn't really believe a year and a day would ever be over. Just think how much she'll know. I hope she'll know more than the Queen, and asks questions the Queen can't answer. Wouldn't that be fun? Oh, let's play that Snow White is coming home. I'll be Snow White. You always want to be Snow White. Ignoring the interruption, to Astellane. You be the queen. To Rosalice. You be the prince. I'll be so dandy-pressed. Well then, announce the prince. And she and Rosalice run out onto the terrace, ready to re-enter as Snow White and the prince respectively. Wait till I get on the throne. She arranges an imaginary train, then sweeps to the throne and gazes into an imaginary mirror.
I think I'm looking particularly handsome today. Any visitors, Sir Dandiprat? As Sir Dandiprat announcing, His royalty, Prince Florimonde, your Majesty. Rosalice enters as the Prince, bowing low in the doorway. Has Princess Snow White come home yet, your Majesty? I love her to distractedness. I should like to marry her at once, please. Now me. No, wait, let me talk a little. Dear me, Prince Florimonde, I mean, dear us, we don't understand what you can possibly see in that plane, child. But Christabel will wait no longer, and appears in the doorway, pushing her back. Wait till I announce you. Resuming Sir Dandy Pratt's voice. Here's the princess now, most important, the Princess Snow White. Christabel re-enters, makes a curtsy as much like Snow White's as she can.
Then going to Prince Rosalus, she says, You ought to speak first, as the Prince kneeling. Snow White, I love you very much. May I kiss your hand? I should be very much obliged. Now I should like to ask the Queen something. Can your Majesty spell Hippoponymous? You mustn't be able to. I wasn't going to. Then, as the queen again, and in a loud whisper, However do you spell it, Sir Dandiprat? I can't think, your majesty. You never do. Strutting about with puffed-out cheeks. Really, I shall go distracted. I shall go this. But she has to clap her hand quickly over her mouth, for the real Sir Dandiprat's voice is heard on the terrace, exclaiming, I shall go distracted. And in he bustles. Followed by all the dukes and duchesses, whom he hastily arranges in their proper places about the room.
The prince is here! The prince is here! We're keeping his highness waiting! Quickly, quickly, my dear dukes and duchesses! Quickly, quickly! A trumpet sounds, and Prince Florimonde enters, followed by his pages. The courtiers bow low. I'm sorry to have kept your highness waiting. I'll inform the queen at once that you've arrived. She's been expecting you all the morning. Just a moment, your highness. As he makes for the door, he whispers to Christabel, Where is the queen? Try in front of all the looking-glasses. Most disrespectful. You will drive me distracted. Distracted! He paddles off to find the queen. To Rosalys. Lady Rosalys, has the princess returned? Not yet, your highness, but we expect her every moment.
Is she well? I don't know, your highness. She hasn't written to us since she went away. Not a single letter. Sir Dandypratt reappears and announces, Her Majesty, the Queen. Queen Brangamar enters, and with a haughty nod to Prince Florimonde, sweeps to the throne. I totally forgot you were coming today, Florimonde. Stupid of me. Poor boy, I've sad news for you. I ought to have written, but I hated to distress you. It's about Snow White. Snow White! I deeply regret to say she is dead. Dead? It happened at boarding school, a few days after she arrived. Snow White. Dead! I sent at least eighteen doctors, but it was useless. The Prince sinks sobbing on the steps of the throne. Pray don't distress yourself.
Everything possible has been done. I built a splendid monument over her grave, a tall, gilded shaft, surrounded by four groups of— Suddenly she sees the stern figure of Berthold. He has been standing silent and unnoticed in the doorway. She cries out, Berthold! advancing. Yes, Berthold. Berthold come to punish you. Seize him, arrest him, Dandiprat, the soldiers. Mr. Brown. I'm awfully sorry, Your Majesty, but the soldiers are all out hunting for him. Mr. Brown. I fear neither your soldiers nor your witchcraft now. No army, no court, no kingdom will be yours when I have told my tale. Dandiprat. Don't listen to him. He's mad. I imprisoned him because he was mad. Mr. Brown. No, for fear that I would reveal your wickedness.
But I escaped. I tunneled under the tower and fled back to the forest to search for Snow White. Last night, in a secret dell, I found— Rising with a cry. You found her? Yes, but she lay in a coffin, all made of shining crystal, as fair as if she were asleep, and guarding her day and night were seven dwarfs. But she is dead. Yes, and you did the deed. Nonsense. The man is quite mad. Snow White died at boarding school. I made the arrangements myself. With that falsehood on your lips, look! The seven dwarfs appear on the terrace bearing Snow White's coffin, covered with its pall of flowers. They march slowly into the room, cowering on her throne in an agony of fear. The dwarfs! Merciful stars! What are they bringing?
No, no! Take it away! Take it away! You shall not bring her here! You shall not! Rushing from the throne, the queen hurls herself upon the dwarfs to prevent their setting down the coffin. So sudden is her onslaught that they cannot resist her, and with a crash of crystal it is overturned. With a cry of horror, the dwarfs surround it, and the courtiers crowd about them. For a moment the queen is alone. She seizes the magic mirror that hangs at her girdle, and with trembling lips whispers. Mirror, mirror, in my hand, who's the fairest in the land? What the mirror answers will never be known, for hardly has it begun to speak when, with a cry of rage, the queen dashes it into a thousand pieces on the floor.
Suddenly she clasps her hands over her face, sinks to her knees with a moan, and draws her veil close. And now there is a gasp of wonder from the courtiers, and Rosalice's voice cries. Oh, look! Snow White! The group parts, and Snow White, half supported by the dwarfs, is seen to stir, rushing to her. Snow White! My beloved! She lives! He kneels beside her and raises her head.
Oh, it was such a long, sad dream. I dreamed that I was dead. It was all dark and still. I could not move or see. Then, just now, came a great noise. Was it an earthquake? And this loosened in my throat? Why, see, it's a little piece of apple. Then there was a warm, rushing hair. She lays her hand on her breast. And I woke up. Or am I dreaming now? No, there are my dwarfs, and Rosalice, and Chrysabelle, and—where am I? With a cry of fear, she struggles to her feet. Ah! This is the palace! The Queen will find me. Hide me, brothers, I am afraid. Pouncing upon the cowering Queen. She shall never harm you again, my Princess. What shall her punishment be? Let us starve her in the Grey Tower, as she would have starved my children.
If I might suggest, Your Highness. But the Queen, writhing from Berthold's grasp, creeps to Snow White's feet and makes an imploring gesture. Hush, please. I think she wants to speak to me. Yes, to you alone. Mrs. She wants to speak to me alone. Please let her. Mr. Brown. Be careful, princess. Mrs. I am not afraid any more. Leave us for a moment. The others withdraw a little, leaving Snow White and the Queen together. Mrs. Oh, Snow White, my punishment has come. I broke the mirror, and my beauty is gone forever. Mrs. The mirror? Oh, forgive me. I shall never be jealous of you again. Only, let me go away, where no one can ever see my face. You shall be queen now. Here is the crown. She thrusts it into Snow White's hand.
I to be queen? I don't understand. You don't believe me? Then look. But, oh, let no one else see. She lifts her veil a little, so that Snow White alone can see her face. Oh, how dreadful! Poor Brangomar! I forgive you, I pity you from the bottom of my heart. She turns to the others. Please let the queen go away unharmed. She wants to go far, far away. Barring the way. Unpunished? Never, your highness. Never, never, never! I beseech you, she will never harm anyone again. I answer for her. I have forgiven her. Let her go. Reluctantly, the courtiers part and make a way for the queen. She kisses the hem of Snow White's dress, and then, her veil drawn close, makes her way toward the door. But just as she reaches the terrace, who should appear there but which hex?
She looks very differently now. Instead of her red cloak and pointed hat, she wears a neat black silk dress with a white fechu around her shoulders, and a black bonnet with lavender-colored flowers. On her arms she carries a basket, in which is an ordinary-sized black cat. The witch, stopping the queen, What's all this? The Queen, clinging to her. Oh, Witch Hex! Witch Hex! Witch Hex! Witch! Witch! Don't be frightened, I'm not Witch Hex anymore. I gave up magic for good, and all day before yesterday burned all my charms, shrunk fiddled down to his natural size. She shows the cat. And retired. Perfectly respectable old lady now. But whatever have you been doing, Brangamar? Oh, Hex, I broke the magic mirror!
And turned ugly. I told you you would someday. Well, serves you right. Let's see. She tries to lift the Queen's veil, preventing her. Oh, no, no, no! Oh, yes, yes, yes. You were fond enough of showing your face before. Turnabout is fair play. She snatches off the veil. The Queen has surely turned ugly, but it is a funny kind of ugliness. None of her features have changed except her nose, but that has grown enormous. Almost a foot long and very red. Ha ha ha! Oh my stars and garters, what a nose, what a nose! Please don't laugh at her. Oh, Hex, can't you help me? Afraid not. The only way to be beautiful without magic is to be good. Who are all these fine folks? Strutting forward importantly, allow me to present.
Shoo-shoo, old turkey-cock. Meantime, the queen creeps quietly away on the terrace, and is never seen or heard of again. Going to Snow White. You must be Snow White. How did you come alive? I made a poison apple for you. Glad it didn't work, but why didn't it? I think the big greedy bite I took must have stuck in my throat. And just now something happened, and it got juggled out. Glad of it. Always was sorry for you. Who's this nice boy? Oh, Prince Florimond, of course. I can guess why you're here. Well, is the betrothal all arranged? Snow White hangs her head, and the prince blushes furiously. Embarrassed, eh? Well, I don't know of any better use for bold old people than to help shy young people.
Where's the ring, young men? Oh, come, I'll rager you've been carrying it about for a year. Shyly, Prince Florimond produces the ring. Your hand, Snow White? Please, do you think I ought to... yet? You see, I didn't get to school to be prepared and... You're just a dear, sweet little girl, and that's good enough for any man, prince or pauper. Put it on, Florimonde. The prince does so. Now, young man, lead her to the throne and crown her properly, and we'll all swear allegiance to our new little queen. With stately grace, the young prince leads Snow White to the throne, and reverently sets the great crown on her little head. Then he kneels before her, and all the courtiers follow his example. Then there is a great burst of music, and all the trumpets in the palace blare.
Rising and unsheathing his sword, the prince cries, Love and homage to our little queen.
Furtively brushing away a happy tear. Oh, please, please. During all this, The dwarfs have withdrawn shyly to the furthest corner of the room. But now Blick, clearing his throat and summoning all his courage, cries, Brothers march! In military order, the dwarfs file to the throne. Some of them think they ought to kneel, and some of them think not. So they wobble for a bit, and then stand still. Your, er, er, your. Oh, Snow White, please tell us what to call you. You see, we've never met a queen before. Oh, my brothers, call me just Snow White. Always and always. Snow White, may we go now? Go? Where? To fetch you our wedding present, all our gold and jewels. We'll make you the richest queen in the whole world.
And then back to our lonely house. And those suppers. And those beds. No, no! You must stay with me always, always, my brothers. Hanging his head. But we are... dwarfs. There are no nobler men in my kingdom. You shall be my bodyguard, and Bethold shall be your captain. What do you say, brothers? I say, Hip, Hip, Hurrah! Hip, Hip, Hip, Hurrah! Dear me, I quite enjoy being respectable. And I can't see any reason why you shouldn't live happily ever after. Oh Princess, if I don't dance, I shall just die. And so shall I. So shall I. To the Prince. May Queens dance too when they are very, very happy. Do you remember the first words I ever said to you? Lady, may I dance with you in the measure to ensue?
And I answered, Sir, could any maid withstand such a flattering command? She gives him her hand, and they all whirl off into the gayest and happiest dance you can imagine. Even the dwarfs, who, you remember, never could learn. Hopping solemnly for joy, as the curtain falls. P.S. Snow White and Prince Florimonde did live happily ever after, as the witch had predicted.
End of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs by Jesse Bram White