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 MAKE-BELIEVE.'' 
 
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" MAKE-BELIEVE 
 
"MAKE-BELIEVE" 
 
 A Comedietta 
 
 BY 
 
 E. C. RACKSTRAW and W. MUSKERRY 
 
 Copyright, 1910, by Samuel French, Ltd. 
 
 New York 
 SAMUEL FRENCH 
 
 PUBLISHER 
 
 28-30, WEST 38 th STREET 
 
 London 
 SAMUEL FRENCH Ltd 
 26 Southampton Street 
 
 STRAND 
 
THE PLAYS OF ALFRED SUTRO. 
 
 Paper, acting edition, is. 6d. net. Cloth, Library Edition, 
 2S. 6d. net. 
 
 The FASCINATING Mr. VANDERVELDT 
 
 A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS. (Paper only.) 
 
 THE BARRIER, <ciotn om y .) 
 
 A PLA Y IN FO UR A CTS. 
 
 THE BUILDER OF BRIDGES, (do* «d f .) 
 
 A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS. 
 
 CAVE OF ILLUSION, ccioth only.) 
 
 A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS. 
 
 JOHN GLAYDES HONOUR, rciothoniy.) 
 
 A PLA Y IN FOUR ACTS. 
 
 MOLLENTRAVE ON WOMEN. 
 
 A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS. 
 
 THE PERFECT LOVER. 
 
 A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS. 
 
 THE WALLS OF JERICHO. 
 
 A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS. 
 The following One-Act Plays at 6d. each. 
 CARROTS. 
 
 THE CORRECT THING. 
 
 ELLAS APOLOGY. 
 
 A GAME OF CHESS. 
 
 THE GUTTER OF TIME. 
 
 A MAKER OF MEN. 
 
 THE MAN ON THE KERB. 
 
 A MARRIAGE HAS BEEN ARRANGED 
 
 THE OPEN DOOR. 
 
 MR. STEINMANNS CORNER 
 
 THE SALT OF LIFE. 
 
 (gCi.D 22618 
 
|2.13 
 
 Produced at the Theatre Royal, Margate, on 
 Whit-Monday, May 16th, 1910. 
 
 CHARACTERS. 
 
 Robert Veevers (A Struggling Journalist) 
 
 Mr. Dudley Stuart. 
 
 Dolly (His Wife) .... Miss Ida Chapman. 
 
 Rags and Bones (Otherwise " The Marquis ") 
 
 Mr. Escott Robson. 
 
 Sarah (A "General") . . Miss Cissy Sephton. 
 
Any costumes or wigs required in the performance 
 of "Make-Believe" may be hired or purchased 
 reasonably from Messrs. C. H. Fox, Ltd., 27, 
 Wellington Street, Strand, London. 
 
MAKE-BELIEVE " 
 
 Scene. — Living room in the Veevers' lodgings. Door, 
 c. Fireplace, l.h. Inner door, r.h. The apart- 
 ment gives the impression of extreme poverty and 
 discomfort. On the walls by way of pictures, chromo 
 portraits from illustrated papers. The furniture 
 consists of coverless deal table, three wooden chairs, 
 a dilapidated armchair with some gorgeous cushions 
 that have seen better days ; a piano up r., surmounted 
 by a glass shade containing the usual lodging-house 
 collection of very artificial fruit ; a desk covered with 
 writing materials and loose papers down L. ; a 
 shabby little chiffonier to hold plates, cutlery, clean 
 white table-cloth and napkins, stands at back of table 
 against flat. 
 
 (Dolly Veevers discovered kneeling on " rag " 
 hearthrug, holding a newspaper before the expiring 
 fire. She wears a grey dress of some soft material, 
 but shabby and rather torn.) 
 
 Dolly (rising). There ! I thought the wood was 
 never going to catch. I think it will burn up brightly 
 now to welcome poor old Bob when he comes back — 
 (with a catch in her breath) — when he comes back. 
 
 (The door, c, opens quickly and Bob Veevers enters. 
 His clothes are old and threadbare and the collar, of 
 his lounge coat is turned up round his ears. . Under 
 
8 " MAKE-BELIEVE." 
 
 his arm he carries a roll of MSS. He comes down, 
 c.) 
 
 Dolly {running forward eagerly to meet him). 
 Bob! 
 
 Bob. Yes ; all that's left of him ! (Pitches his 
 cap on piano, turns down collar, and crossing over to 
 fireplace, l., tries to warm his hands.) 
 
 Dolly. Well ? What luck ? 
 
 Bob (bitterly, with averted head). The usual ! 
 
 Dolly. Didn't you see the Editor ? 
 
 Bob. Yes ; but the Editor didn't exactly " see " 
 me ! In fact, our interview though brief, was very 
 much to the point. He told me my contribution was 
 eminently meritorious 
 
 Dolly. How nice of him ! I knew he would ! 
 
 Bob. They always do ; but he added it was 
 totally unsuited for his purpose, and regretted that 
 he couldn't detain me as his time was valuable. 
 What price mine, I wonder, and the days I've wasted 
 over this ? (Holding MSS. over fire.) 
 
 Dolly. And only a month ago, when your first 
 article was accepted, he said it was " brilliant, forcible 
 and full of promise." That's what he called it then. 
 
 Bob. And now he advises me to try somewhere 
 else. 
 
 Dolly. What are you going to do ? 
 
 Bob. Send it to the only place my work seems fit 
 for — to blazes. It may keep the fire going for a few 
 minutes longer, (About to throw MSS. on grate.) 
 
 Dolly (rescues papers). Why not try some one 
 else ? I'm sure it's beautifully written — 
 
 (He turns to her with a gratified look.) 
 
 — anybody could read it, easily. 
 
 Bob. Bah ! (Turning away with a stamp of 
 impatience.) I'm tired of tramping about all day 
 interviewing Editor after Editor, just as if I was a 
 beggar. 
 
" MAKE-BELIEVE." 6 
 
 Dolly. But you're not a beggar, Bob. A beggar 
 wants bread and you only ask for work. 
 
 Bob. God knows I want both — and that's the 
 reason, I suppose, I can't get either ! {Then, quietly.) 
 I'm afraid it's all over, little woman. 
 
 Dolly (aghast). Bob ! What do you mean ? 
 
 Bob. Heaven forgive me ! You must go back 
 to your mother, Dolly, dear. 
 
 Dolly. And you ? What are you going to do ? 
 
 Bob (Utterly). Pay the price of having spoilt your 
 life! 
 
 Dolly (frightened). Pay the price ? 
 
 Bob (very fast). Oh, I am not going to blow my 
 brains out, there are harder ways of paying the price 
 than that ! I can't bear to see you getting paler 
 and thinner every day, and more crushed beneath the 
 burden of poverty and disappointment — you must 
 go back to your people 
 
 Dolly (passionately). I will never go back to my 
 people ! You promised to take me for better or 
 worse, and if you send me away — (drops sobbing into 
 the armchair) — Bob ! you'd break my heart ! 
 
 Bob. Do you think it is nothing for me to have to 
 do without you ? 
 
 Dolly (rapidly). I hate to have to go back home 
 as if I were in disgrace, as if you were a failure, as if we 
 had quarrelled, as if I would rather be comfortable 
 with them than starving with you 
 
 Bob (interrupting hotly). How do you think I like 
 it, then, to have to send you back to be dependent 
 upon their charity and pity ? (Pulls himself together 
 and seats himself on the arm of her chair.) Dolly, 
 dear, don't let's be unreasonable ! It may not be 
 for long, and if I were alone I might be able to pick 
 up some odd jobs. 
 
 Dolly (sobbing), Of course, if I'm in your way 
 
 Bob. We can't starve ! 
 
 Dolly. I can ! 
 
 Bob. That won't help us much. 
 
10 " MAKE-BELIEVE." 
 
 Dolly. I will go out charing. 
 
 Bob. That's not a lucrative profession, either, and 
 even then, we must have a roof to shelter us at night. 
 
 Dolly (with face in cushion).. There are the Salva- 
 tion Army Shelters. 
 
 Bob. Dolly ! Don't make things harder for me. 
 
 Dolly. You really want me to go ? 
 
 Bob (walking up and down distractedly). Want ! 
 Want ! / want — you want — want is turning my 
 brain ! 
 
 Dolly (getting up suddenly and drying her tears). 
 I won't make things harder, dear. (Crosses and lays 
 her hand on his arm.) Bob — I'll go. 
 
 (Both stand silent for a minute, then Bob covers her 
 hand with his.) 
 
 Bob (quietly). Thank you, Kiddie. 
 
 (Soft music.) 
 
 Dolly seats herself in the armchair, and looks dreamily 
 out towards the audience. Bob stands with his back 
 to her.) 
 
 Dolly. Some folks seem to have the gift of taking 
 life easily and happily and meeting everything with a 
 smiling face — like our old neighbour, Rags and Bones. 
 
 Bob (mystified). Rags and Bones ? 
 
 Dolly. Yes, the old gentleman who lives all alone 
 on the floor above. 
 
 Bob. Gentleman ? (laughing). I can't say he 
 ever struck me in that light. 
 
 Dolly. That's because he is always dressed in 
 such shabby clothes and because he is so thin and 
 miserable-looking. 
 
 Bob. Of course ! I remember now, and that's 
 why we always called him " Rags and Bones." 
 
 Dolly. We generally have a little chat upon the 
 stairs ; I am sure he has seen better days, although 
 he's probably even poorer than we are ; he always 
 
"MAKE-BELIEVE." 11 
 
 seems so cheery and courteous, that one day when 
 things were looking more dismal than usual, I couldn't 
 help asking him how he did it. 
 
 Bob. Did what ? 
 
 Dolly. Kept it up like that ! And he said, " My 
 child, make-believe. If you want anything very 
 badly that you can't have, make-believe, and you'll 
 be just as happy as though you had it. In this world 
 things are not what they are, but what you like to 
 make them. Make-believe, make-believe, make- 
 believe ! and you'll be as happy as the birds upon the 
 trees," and off he went whistling up the stairs like 
 the thrushes used to do by the river after rain, when 
 we were paddling in the skiff together in the dear old 
 days — before the bad times came. (Faltering and 
 covering her face with her hands.) 
 
 Bob (crossing over to her and wiping her eyes with a 
 silk handkerchief he takes from his pocket). Cheer up, 
 Doll — don't give way ! 
 
 Dolly. It's all right, the rain's over now — 
 
 (Music stops.) 
 
 — Bob ! (excitedly). Let's make-believe that we are 
 rich and happy just this one night before we say 
 good-bye. 
 
 Bob (rather brokenly). Dolly 
 
 Dolly (springing up). No ! sir. No longer Dolly 
 Veevers, but the Lady Clara Vere de Vere ! (She 
 makes Bob a sweeping curtsey.) 
 
 Bob (bewildered). Dolly, I 
 
 Dolly. Milord ! Have you forgotten that to- 
 night we entertain the Marquis de Carabas to dinner ? 
 
 Bob {still bewildered). The Marquis of — how 
 much ? 
 
 Dolly. And you are still in your homespuns and 
 your clumsy shooting boots. 
 
 (She picks up a pair of all-to-pieces carpet slippers. 
 
12 " MAKE-BELIEVE." 
 
 He takes them from her and holds them oat at arm's 
 length. ) 
 
 Bob. 'Strath ! Miladi, the patent leather of my 
 dancing pumps is beginning to wear a wee ! 
 
 Dolly. Wait a moment. I don't believe the 
 Marquis has ever had his invitation ! 
 
 Bob. I'm jolly well certain 
 
 Dolly (severely). Milord ! (Seats herself at desk.) 
 Where is my pen of amber and pearl ? (Picks up a 
 broken penholder and nibbles the end ; looks thoughtful 
 for a moment, then begins to write.) " The Lady Clara 
 Vere de Vere requests the pleasure of the company of 
 the Marquis de Carabas to dinner to-night, at eight 
 precisely. R.S.V.P." Let me see, how do I fill in 
 the bottom left-hand corner, or is it the right ? Oh ! 
 I know what to do, you always put the name of some 
 popular musician or somebody who is to perform 
 during the evening. 
 
 Bob. Paderewski ! 
 
 Dolly. Of course ! I remember the dear man 
 refused an American Shoddy King on purpose to be 
 present. (Writing.) " Paderewski." 
 
 Bob. If you want to indicate the nature of the 
 entertainment, hadn't you better put " spoof " in the 
 other corner ? 
 
 Dolly (reproachfully). No — " make - believe." 
 Might I trouble you, Milord, to press the electric 
 bell ? Carrington shall deliver the note by hand, as 
 the Marquis's demesne adjoins our own estate. 
 
 Bob. I say, Dolly, you're only rotting, aren't 
 you ? You are not really going to send this note 
 anywhere ? 
 
 Dolly. But indeed I am ! I am going to send it 
 to Rags and Bones. 
 
 Bob. To Rags and Bones ? 
 
 Dolly. Naturally. I always address him as the 
 " Marquis " now, and he calls me " My Lady." 
 
" MAKE-BELIEVE." 13 
 
 Bob. And now you're going to ask him to take a 
 hand at his own game ? 
 
 Dolly. I'll answer for it the Noble Marquis will 
 rise to the occasion. 
 
 Bob. That's all very well, Dolly, but we haven't 
 got any dinner. 
 
 Dolly. Milord, do you venture to question the 
 resources of the larder of a Vere de Vere ? I prithee 
 confine your attention to the choice of your vintages. 
 Will you ring for Carrington ? 
 
 Bob. Who's Carrington ? 
 
 Dolly. The slavey, of course. 
 
 Bob. Oh ! (Throwing door open and shouting.) 
 What-ho ! Sarah ! 
 
 (Sarah, a smutty, untidy little slavey, shuffles on in 
 shoes several sizes too big for her. She carries three 
 smoking kippers on a grid.) 
 
 Sarah. 'Ere you are, Mum — and 'ere's yer kippers, 
 three for tuppence, and done to a turn ! 
 
 Bob. Good gracious ! she's dripping the grease all 
 over our best Turkey pile ! 
 
 (He seizes the grid and rushes off with it, d.r.) 
 
 Dolly (to Sarah who stands open-mouthed). Sarah, 
 I want you to take this note to the gentleman upstairs. 
 
 Sarah. We ain't got no gentleman up our stairs. 
 
 Dolly. Mr. Rags and Bones — you know. 
 
 Sarah. Oh, the third floor back ? (Nodding her 
 head and taking the note by the corner.) Yes'm, I'll 
 take and shove it under the mat. 
 
 Dolly. You will do nothing of the kind, Sarah ; 
 you will hand it in properly, and wait for an answer. 
 It is an invitation to supper to-night. 
 
 Sarah (grunts and shuffles to the door c, then turns). 
 If you leave Master alone with them kippers, there 
 won't be nothing but cinders to ask him to 'ave supper 
 off! 
 
 (Exit, d.c.) 
 
14 " MAKE-BELIEVE." 
 
 (Bob re-entering, d.r.) 
 
 Bob. I have been consulting the butler about the 
 wines, dear ; have you any idea in which direction 
 the taste of the Marquis lies ? Still or sparkling — 
 full bouquet or dry ? 
 
 Dolly. I should think Sparkling Moselle. 
 
 Bob. Right you are ! Three ginger-pops. 
 
 Dolly. Bob ! Can you afford it ? 
 
 Bob (tossing some loose coppers in his hand). Afford ? 
 Milady ! Do you presume to question the finances of 
 a Vere de Vere ? 
 
 (Throws on his cap and exit, d.c, colliding with Sarah, 
 who is coming in — business.) 
 
 Dolly (at desk). Now for the menu — 
 
 (Perceiving Sarah.) 
 
 Well ? 
 
 Sarah (down front, shutting her eyes, putting her 
 arms behind her back and gabbling quickly). The 
 Markiss O'Callabash presents his compliments to the 
 Lady Verdyvere and 'as much pleasure in accepting 
 of her kind invite for h'eight precisely. Lor, Mum, 
 what do 'e mean by that ? 
 
 Dolly. Sarah ! Look at me. / am the Lady 
 Vere de Vere ! 
 
 Sarah. Lor ! are you, Mum ? 
 
 Dolly. This room, Sarah, for the time being, is 
 my Louis Quinze Boudoir. 
 
 Sarah (looking round bothered). Boodwor ? — 
 that's a bloomer ! 
 
 Dolly. When the Marquis de Carabas arrives, 
 it will be instantly transformed into a Baronial Ban- 
 quetting Hall, and you, Sarah, who are at present, 
 Gustave the Cordon Bleu 
 
 Sarah. Oh, I am, am I ? Well, I'm blowed ! 
 
 Dolly. You will at the same moment do a quipk 
 change into the part of Carrington, the Family 
 
" MAKE-BELIEVE." 15 
 
 Butler ; in this character, remember, you stand six 
 feet in your stockings 
 
 Sarah (shocked). Stand in my stockings ! Not 
 me, Mum ! I couldn't show 'em, on account of the 
 'oles. (Pulls down her skimpy skirts.) 
 
 Dolly. Silk stockings, Sarah 
 
 Sarah. Ho ! that's a bit of all-right, that is ! 
 (Taking up her dress and mincing across stage.) 
 
 Dolly. With padded calves. 
 
 Sarah. Padded ? (indignantly). Nothing o' the 
 sort, Mum ! 
 
 Dolly. Your hair is powdered. 
 
 Sarah. Beggin' your pardon, but it ain't — it may 
 be a bit dusty, but 
 
 Dolly. But me no buts ! You have a smart 
 livery with a scarlet face 
 
 Sarah (whimpering). I can't 'elp my nee, Mum ; 
 it's them dratted kippers ! 
 
 Dolly (not heeding). With a scarlet facing. 
 When you address either your master or myself, you 
 will say — " Certainly, Milord " — " Certainly, Milady." 
 Now, Sarah, let me hear you say it — Carrington, 
 hand the Marquis the salt. 
 
 Sarah. Suttingly, Milord— suttingly, Miladi. 
 
 Dolly (laughing and clapping her hands) Sarah, 
 that's splendid ! (Suddenly remembering her part.) 
 Please make-believe, for the time being, that you are 
 Gustave the Chef — Gustave, what Potage have you 
 provided for the Marquis's consumption ? 
 
 Sarah (bothered). That's a korf-drop, that is ! 
 
 Dolly. I mean, the soup. 
 
 Sarah (considering). Well, there's the remains 
 of the mutting broff 
 
 Dolly. Consomme de Mouton. Fish, Gustave ? 
 
 Sarah. Them kippers, Miladi. 
 
 Dolly. It is impossible to disguise a kipper in 
 French frills. However — we must have some sort 
 of next course as well, Sarah. (Confidentially.) 
 What is there in the larder ? 
 
16 " MAKE-BELIEVE." 
 
 Sarah (shutting her eyes and jerking out the list). 
 Three cold taters — the leavings of Irish stew — a 'and- 
 ful o' cold vegetables — the mutting gristle from the 
 broff 
 
 Dolly. Put them into the stewpan and warm 
 them all up together. And that cornflour pudding 
 that was too lumpy to eat, put that in too, it will do 
 for thickening. Now, what can that be called, 
 Sarah ? 
 
 Sarah. A nice ole mix-up, Mum, begging your 
 pardon. 
 
 Dolly. The very thing, Gustave ! How bril- 
 liantly you are playing up to the part ! We will call 
 it Pot-pourri, of course. 
 
 Sarah. Anythink else, Miladi ? 
 
 Dolly. Sweets — and our dessert ? (Sadly.) No, 
 there is nothing else. 
 
 Sarah. Wot price the wax fruit under the shade ? 
 (Taking it from top of piano.) 
 
 Dolly. Placed on an epergne, it will grace the 
 table as a centre-piece. 
 
 (Sarah places it on table on an inverted flower-pot, 
 round which Dolly folds a frill of manuscript paper.) 
 
 Sarah. Ain't it lovely ! (Admiring the effect 
 and clapping her hands.) 
 
 (During above Sarah has laid cloth and napkins, etc., 
 on table.) 
 
 Dolly. And so our feast will end — as it began — 
 in make-believe ! (With a quick sigh.) 
 
 (Sarah backs out c. door, colliding with Bob, who enters 
 juggling with gingerbeer bottles, which he slams down 
 on table.) 
 
 Bob. I fancy the Marquis's carriage will stop the 
 way directly. I heard the old boy shuffling down the 
 stairs as I came in. 
 
1 " MAKE-BELIEVE." 17 
 
 Dolly. Then I shall only just have time to put my 
 coronet on before he arrives. 
 
 (Exit quickly, d.r.) 
 
 Bob (coming slowly down centre.) Her coronet ! 
 A garland of withered hopes and rue. 
 
 (Dolly re-enters with a spray of orange-blossom pinned 
 across her hair — she holds out her hands.) 
 
 Dolly. Bob ! 
 
 (He turns, starts, and then catches her hands fiercely.) 
 
 Bob. Dolly ! Your wedding wreath ! 
 Dolly. The dearest coronet a woman can possess. 
 (Pause.) Milord ! your hair wants brushing ! 
 
 (Dolly gets a scraggy plant from window, puts it on 
 table, then takes silk bandana from Bob's pocket and 
 drapes it round pot. The door is thrown open and 
 Sarah, in " Carrington " voice announces.) 
 
 Sarah. The Markiss O'Callabash ! 
 
 (The " Marquis " is a bent old man, eccentrically 
 attired in rusty black clothes, and with a battered old 
 top-hat. Dolly advances and holds out her hand. 
 The " Marquis " bows over it.) 
 
 Dolly. Charmed to see you, dear Marquis ! 
 
 Marquis. Delighted, dear lady, to be basking 
 again in the sunshine of your smile ! I crave the 
 honour of an introduction to your illustrious consort. 
 
 Dolly. Viscount Vere de Vere, the Marquis of 
 Carabas. (Introducing.) 
 
 (Both Men bow with an eighteenth century flourish.) 
 (Sarah appearing c. at back.) 
 
 Sarah (solemnly.) My Lords and Ladies, the 
 wittles is getting cold. 
 
 (Vanishes c.) 
 
IS " MAKE-BELTEVE." 
 
 (The " Marquis " offers his arm to Dolly. All take 
 their places at table — Marquis l., Dolly r., Bob at 
 •head, facing audience. Crash heard off.) 
 
 Bob. Halloa ! What's that ? 
 
 Dolly (scanning the menu, and endeavouring to 
 save the situation.) The first course — Potage de — 
 something or other. 
 
 Bob (tucking his napkin under his chin). Probably 
 turtle soup. 
 
 Dolly. Mock turtle ! 
 
 (Sarah re-appearing c, wiping herself down with her 
 apron.) 
 
 Sarah. No, it ain't! It's the mutting broth. It's 
 running down the stairs. 
 
 Bob. Anyhow, it's " turned turtle." Mop it up, 
 and proceed with the banquet. Where's the next 
 course ? 
 
 Sarah. In your bedroom, over the gas stove. 
 
 Dolly \ Tf • . , . 
 
 Bob } Brm S lt m ! 
 
 Sarah. Suttingly, Milord — suttingly, Miladi ! 
 
 (Dashes across into bedroom, R. Clashing of crockery 
 heard.) 
 
 Dolly. I hope, Marquis, you won't miss your 
 turtle soup. 
 
 Marquis. Not at all, dear lady ; in fact, I prefer 
 it — outside ! 
 
 (Re-enter Sarah with gridiron covered with a wash- 
 hand basin — plumps them on table.) 
 
 Bob. What's this ? (Sniffing.) Smells rather 
 gamy. 
 
 Sarah (removing basin with a flourish). Kippers, 
 Milord — kippers, Miladi ! 
 
 Bob. Whitechapel pheasant. Allow me. (Serv- 
 ing them round.) 
 
"MAKE-BELIEVE." 19 
 
 Sarah. There ! He's gone and made game of 'em 
 — I knew he would ! 
 
 (Flounces off a, offended.) 
 
 Bob. This is the first time I have had the honour, 
 Marquis, of welcoming you within my ancestral halls 
 
 Marquis. Magnificent ! Superb ! Ah. ha ! (Wav- 
 ing with his fork to Christmas-number supplements, 
 pinned on wall.) Family portraits, I perceive. One 
 can easily trace their likeness to their present worthy 
 descendant. That " Lawrence " there ! the same 
 thoughtful bump over the left eyebrow, 
 
 (Bob feels his own surreptitiously) 
 
 the same convergent expression in the eyes 
 
 Bob. Dolly, do I squint ? 
 
 (All laugh ; suddenly remember themselves, and cough 
 instead.) 
 
 Marquis. That Romney lady opposite ? Is she 
 a Vere de Vere ? 
 
 Bob. Only by marriage. 
 
 Marquis (raising glass to Dolly). The Vere de 
 Veres keep up the tradition of an eye for beauty ! 
 
 Dolly (bowing). And the House of Cafabas its 
 reputation for courtesy and wit I 
 
 Marquis. To what master-hand may we attribute 
 the carving on this graceful table leg ? I should say — 
 er — Grinling Gibbons. 
 
 (Re-enter Sarah with the stew and removing the kippers.) 
 
 Sarah. Please, sir, it was Tommy Jones, the 
 little boy what lived 'ere before 'em. (Indicating 
 Bob and Dolly.) 'E did it with the bread-knife 
 when 'is ma's back was turned, and she gave 'im 
 such a spanking that 'e couldn't sit down for a 
 
 Dolly (hastily). Carrington ! Hand the Marquis 
 the salt ! 
 
20 " MAKE-BELIEVE." 
 
 Sarah (with grand air). Suttingly, Milord ! — sut- 
 tingly, Miladi ! 
 
 Marquis (examining an enamel spoon). It is not 
 often one has the chance of using such a fine example 
 of Georgian silver ! 
 
 Dolly (apologetically). I never offered any one 
 such things to use before — oh ! I forgot ! 
 
 Bob (trying to cover her confusion). The fact is, a 
 kind uncle is taking care of the family plate, and we 
 are living in a sort of picnic fashion, as to-morrow we 
 shut up the house and go abroad. 
 
 Marquis. I had no idea you intended leaving so 
 soon. 
 
 Bob (slowly). No — we ourselves had not anticipated 
 having to go quite so precipitately. 
 
 Sarah (whispering loudly). You don't really mean 
 you are going, Mum, and leaving me and all ? Oh, 
 booh-ooh ! (Throwing her apron over her head.) 
 
 Dolly (aside). Hush ! Carrington ! Please re- 
 mind Sarah that to-night everything is make-believe. 
 
 Bob. You have not yet told me what you think of 
 my wine, Marquis ? 
 
 Marquis. It is as bright and sparkling as my 
 hopes for the future of (rises) my host and hostess ! 
 
 Bob (rising). To the health of the Marquis of 
 Carabas ! who, by his good comradeship and humour, 
 has made the eve of our departure a merry one ! To- 
 morrow (sadly) it will be au revoir ! (Hastily remem- 
 bering himself.) To the Riviera, I mean ! Our 
 address Hotel de Luxe, Cannes. 
 
 Sarah (down front). Oh, dear ! Oh, lor ! this 
 'ere make-believe is making me feel so queer inside. 
 
 (Exit, (L, with tray, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. Crash 
 heard off.) 
 
 Dolly (rising and going up.) Sarah ! You've 
 broken something again. 
 
 (Sarah re-appearing, c, with her apron to her eyes.) 
 
" MAKE-BELIEVE." 21 
 
 Sarah. Please, M'm, it — it's only my 'eart this 
 time ! 
 
 (Dolly gives her a spontaneous hug, and Sarah 
 disappears, crying quietly.) 
 
 Dolly (comes down front). Poor Sarah ! I'm 
 afraid " Make-believe " isn't quite so satisfactory, 
 after all ! (With a long sigh.) 
 
 (During above Bob has motioned Marquis to armchair.) 
 
 Bob (to Marquis). Cannot I tempt you with some 
 hot-house fruit ? (Tapping shade.) 
 
 Marquis. Raised under glass, I see. Not any, 
 thanks ! 
 
 Bob. Then have a fag. (Offering packet of 
 cigarettes.) 
 
 Marquis (selecting one). What choice Havanas ! 
 
 Bob. Ya'as — the celebrated Dust-bin brand — 
 don't-cher-know. (Aside, lighting up and puffing.) 
 Must keep up this ridiculous fooling for Dolly's sake, 
 I suppose ! (To Dolly.) My dear, are you not 
 keeping Paderewski waiting ? 
 
 Dolly. I haven't found a Make-believe for him. 
 I must play that part myself. 
 
 (Seats herself at piano and, after striking a few chords, 
 commences playing " Home, Sweet Home " very softly. 
 Suddenly, with a sob, she drops her head on the keys. 
 The Marquis rises hurriedly and blows his nose. 
 Bob in dismay turns first to Dolly and then to 
 his guest.) 
 
 Bob. Dolly ! Sir ! will you excuse us ? My 
 wife is unwell — tired — upset. (Leans against table 
 and runs his fingers distractedly through his hair.) 
 It's a poor game — Make-believe, after all. 
 
 Marquis. Aye, / know ! I've played it long 
 enough ! What am I to look at ? — a seedy old 
 beggar, scarcely fit to sweep a crossing — and yet you, 
 my kind host and hostess, ask me in and give me your 
 
22 " MAKE-BELIEVE." 
 
 honest hands — the first and only welcome a lonely 
 old man has known for years. God bless you for it, 
 dears — and yet, I crept in here on false pretences. 
 
 Bob. False pretences ? I do not understand ? 
 
 Marquis. Man, I'm not poor, but rich ! — maybe 
 a miser. (With sudden passion.) But, by Him who 
 made me ! — shabby, threadbare as you see me — I 
 could buy and sell half the snobs and upstarts who 
 wouldn't touch my rags. If I saved and scraped 
 until I'd piled a fortune up, it was for my daughter's 
 sake. I made my child my idol — and He has pun- 
 ished me ! 
 
 Bob. And she is ? 
 
 (Marquis bows his head.) 
 
 Oh, my poor Marquis. (With his hand on his shoulder.) 
 
 Marquis. No, no, not dead — not dead — she 
 lives again — in her. (Very low, pointing to Dolly.) 
 
 Bob. My wife ! 
 
 Marquis. Yes ; the same sweet eyes — her gentle, 
 winsome ways. I've watched her day by day, until, 
 at last, she seemed to take my dear dead daughter's 
 place — here, in my empty heart. (Timidly.) Per- 
 haps some day you may both of you spare me some 
 little place in yours. (Taking his battered old hat.) 
 Now, I will say, good-bye. 
 
 Dolly (rising and coming forward). But must you 
 go so soon ? 
 
 Marquis. Only for a little while, my dear. Ex- 
 cuse me — something I'd forgot. (Returning to table 
 and turning his back to them, hurriedly extracts four 
 notes from a battered old wallet, and placing them under 
 a plate.) 
 
 Bob. But, sir ! You really mustn't ! 
 
 Marquis. Hush, my boy ! / know where the 
 shoe pinches. Good-bye — God bless you both — 
 and allow me to thank you for your very charming 
 and recherche — little — er — Fete Sham-petre, my lady ! 
 (With a sweeping courtly bow to Dolly, goes up c.) 
 
MAKE-BELIEVE. 
 
 23 
 
 Bob (raising plate). Four notes of fifty each ! 
 Dolly ! Two hundred pounds in Bank of England 
 notes 
 
 Dolly. And all real ? 
 
 Bob. Yes — no " Make-believe," my darling, there ! 
 (Taking her in his arms and flourishing the notes 
 
 behind her back.) 
 
 Picture — Marquis up stage looking at them. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 iteJiEJiiznsri 
 
THE PLAYS OF R. G CARTON. 
 
 is. 6d. each. 
 
 LADY HUNTWORTH'S EXPERIMENT. 
 LIBERTY HALL. 
 MR. HOPKINSON. 
 SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 THE PL A YS OF H. V. ESMOND. 
 
 is. 6d. each. 
 
 BILLY'S LITTLE LOVE AFFAIR. 
 
 ONE SUMMER'S DA Y. 
 
 WHEN WE WERE TWENTY-ONE. 
 
 WILDERNESS. 
 
 THE PL A YS OF MADELEINE LUCETTE 
 RYLEY. 
 
 xs. 6d. each. 
 AN AMERICAN CITIZEN. 
 fEDB UR Y JUNIOR. 
 MICE AND MEN. 
 
 THE PLA YS OF OSCAR WILDE. 
 
 is. 6d. each. 
 
 IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST. 
 LADY WINDERMERE'S FAN. 
 
 LONDON: SAMUEL FRENCH, LIMITED. 
 
PRa.THTIJ*G ROOM. 
 
 Only Kept in the large size, the bacK scene is 13 feet long and 9 feet high and ex- 
 tends with the Wings and Borders to 20 feet long and 11 J feet high. In the centre 
 is a French window, leading down to the ground, On the left wing is a fireplace 
 with mirror above, and on the right, wing is an oil painting. The whole scene is 
 tastefully ornamented and beautifully coloured, forming a most elegant picture. 
 The above is a representation of a box scene consisting of 38 sheets of paper, 
 the extra sheets being used for the doors each side. 
 
 £ s. d. 
 Back Scene, Border, and 1 Set of Wings, unmounted ... ..200 
 
 Ditto, mounted ... 4 4 
 
 Back Scene, Border, with 2 Sets of Wings as above to form Box 
 
 Scene, unmounted 2 10 
 
 Ditto, mounted .. 5 6 
 
 COTTAGES. 
 
 This is also kept in the large size only. In the centre is a door leading outsiae. 
 Oa the left centre is a rustic fireplace, and the right centre is a window. On th« 
 Wings are painted shelves, &c, to complete the scene. The above is a represent 
 tation of this scene with 1 set of Wings only (not a Box Scene), but a Box Scene 
 can be made bv purchasing the extra set of Wings. Prices and size Bame as 
 drawing Room Scene above 
 
NOV 22 191Q 
 
 FRENCH'S ACTING EDITION 
 
 VOLUME 150 
 
 2236 The Dentist 
 2287 Taken for Granted 
 8238 Just as Well 
 2239 Hoginany 
 224U Pansy 
 
 2241 A Doctor's Engage- 
 
 ments 
 
 2242 A Duet 
 
 2243 My Milliner's Bill, Is. 
 
 2244 My Aunt from Cali- 
 
 fornia 
 
 2245 His Life for Hers 
 
 2246 The Meeting 
 
 2247 The Umbrella 
 
 Duologue 
 2243 The Late Lamented 
 2249 Woman Triumphant 
 
 2260 Angelina's Lover 
 
 VOLUME 151 
 
 2261 Chrysanthemums 
 
 2252 My First Client 
 
 2253 Punctured 
 
 2254 Old Pals 
 
 2255 Honeymoon Tragedy 
 
 2256 Commission 
 
 2257 Hal, the Highwayman 
 
 2258 Dinner for Two 
 
 2259 Ninth Walte 
 
 2260 Human Sport 
 
 2261 Collaborators 
 
 2262 Mere Man 
 
 2263 Packing Up 
 
 2264 Paying Guest 
 
 2265 'Enery Brown 
 
 VOLUME 162 
 
 2266 The Jilt 
 
 2267 'Op-o'-Me-Thumb 
 
 2268 A Marriage Has Been 
 
 Arranged 
 
 2269 Carrots 
 
 2270 Conversion of Nat 
 
 Sturge 
 
 2271 Cleric 
 
 2272 Aubr< 
 
 2273 Work 
 
 2274 Two o 
 
 2275 Bridg 
 
 2276 That 
 
 2277 Well 
 
 2278 Make 
 
 2279 Gutte. 
 
 2280 Game of Chess 
 
 VOLUME 153 
 
 2281 Mr. Steinmann's 
 
 Corner 
 
 2282 Ella's Apology 
 
 2283 Colour Sergeant 
 
 2284 Helpless Couple 
 
 2285 First Aid to the 
 
 Wounded 
 
 2286 Correct Thing 
 
 2287 Their New Paying 
 
 Guest 
 
 2288 Domestic Entangle- 
 
 ment 
 
 2289 Salt of Life 
 
 2290 Time is Money 
 
 2291 Wally and the Widow 
 
 2292 Deceitful Miss Smiths 
 
 2293 Holly Tree Inn 
 
 2294 Up-to-date 
 
 2295 Bit of Old Chelsea 
 
 VOLUME 154 
 
 2296 Wrong Side of the 
 
 Road 
 
 2297 The Open Door 
 
 2298 Prima Donna (Pem- 
 
 berton) 
 
 2299 Lights Out (Pemberton) 
 
 2300 Mirror of Time 
 
 2301 Three Blind Mice 
 
 (Muskerry) 
 
 2302 Privy Council 
 
 2303 Snowed up with a 
 
 Duchess 
 
 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 -ich 
 
 014 430 650 8 $ 
 
 j Martha 
 jse's De- 
 Aunt 
 )arling 
 
 VOLUME 155 
 
 2311 That Horrid Major 
 
 2312 Bardwell v. Pickwick 
 
 2313 House of Nightingales 
 
 2314 Turtle Doves [der 
 
 2315 Superior Miss Pellen- 
 
 2316 His Good Genius 
 
 2317 Martha Plays the Fairy 
 
 2318 Dumb Cake 
 
 2319 Proposing by Proxy 
 
 2320 Phcrmix 
 
 2321 Boatswain's Mate 
 
 2322 Final Kehearsa! 
 
 2323 Two Aunts at a Time 
 
 2324 Nelson Touch 
 
 2325 Convict on the Hearth 
 
 VOLUME 156 
 
 2326 Grey Parrot 
 
 2327 Ghost of Jerry Bundler 
 
 2328 Bishop's Candlesticks 
 
 2329 Peacemaker 
 
 2330 Changeling 
 
 2331 Wire Entanglement 
 
 2332 Pride of Regiment 
 
 2333 "1588" 
 
 2334 Man on the Kerb 
 
 2335 O'Dowd 
 
 2336 Impertinence of the 
 
 Creature 
 
 2337 Dramatist at Home 
 
 2338 Martha the Soothsayer 
 
 2339 Old Martha Is. 
 
 2340 All Through Martha Is. 
 
 AN AMERICAN CITIZEN 
 BILLYS LITTLE LOVE 
 
 AFFAIR 
 BRACE OF PARTRIDGES 
 BRIXTON BURGLARY 
 CAPTAIN SWIFT 
 OASSILIS ENGAGEMENT 
 CHARITY THAT BEGAN 
 
 AT HOME 
 COUNTRY MOUSE 
 DR. WAKE'S PATIENT 
 FACING THE MUSIC 
 FASCINATING MR. VAN- 
 
 DERVELDT 
 IDLER. 
 IMPORTANCE OF BEING 
 
 EARNEST 
 IN CHANCERY 
 JEDBURY JUNIOR 
 
 BARRIER 
 
 BUILDER OF BRIDGES 
 
 cave of illusion 
 Dancing girl 
 hypocrites 
 joseph entangled 
 
 Is. 6d. net Edition 
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 EXPERIMENT 
 LADY WINDERMERE'S 
 
 FAN 
 LIBERTY HALL 
 LUCKY MISS DEAN 
 MARRIAGE OF KITTY 
 MICE AND MEN 
 MISS ELIZABETH'S 
 
 PRISONER 
 MISS HOBBS 
 MOLLENTRAVE ON 
 
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 MR. HOPKINSON 
 NEW BOY 
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 PETER'S MOTHER 
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 RETURN OF THE PRO- 
 DIGAL 
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