PS 3545 
 .1337 
 D8 
 1922 
 Copy 1 
 
 THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 A MODERNIZED FAIRY PLAY 
 
 Opus 57 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 A MODERNIZED FAIRY PLAY 
 
 Opus 57 
 
^= 
 
 ^<k ^\j^ 
 
 ^ 'i\ • 
 
 S' 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 The Ogre 
 The Ogre's Cook 
 Frances 
 
 The Monday Dinner 
 The Tuesday Dinner 
 The Wednesday Dinner 
 The Thursday Dinner 
 The Friday Dinner 
 The Saturday Dinner 
 The Sunday Dinner 
 The Principal Boy Scout 
 The Other Boy Scouts 
 
 and 
 The Jester 
 
 Copyright, 1922, 
 By Percival Wilde. 
 
 MAV 23 IS2? 
 ^GID 609 U 
 
 Ai^ \ 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 
 Before the curtains part a Jester, with cap and bells 
 and sticky enters at one side, comes to the cent of the 
 stage, and bows deeply to the audience. 
 
 THE JESTER 
 
 Ladies and gentlemen: This is a fairy play; a 
 fairy play all about an Ogre who lived in a Castle 
 in the Calabrian Mountains (wherever they may be) 
 in the Steenth Century. The Steenth Century, by 
 the way, began ever so many years ago, and by a 
 most remarkable coincidence, ended exactly one 
 hundred years later. Of course the Ogre is dead 
 now; he died of acute indigestion one day after 
 eating a particularly hearty lunch; but he was 
 very much alive then! Indeed he was! 
 
 Now an Ogre is a person who dines ex-clu-sive-ly 
 on human flesh (which is a very bad habit); but 
 this Ogre is not like other Ogres: not at all. In- 
 deed, he might be called an Ogre because nothing 
 but human flesh 0-grees with him. 
 [_The curtains part an inch or two, and a little girl 
 taps the Jester on the back. 
 THE JESTER (to the auMcnce) 
 
 Excuse me a minute. {He converses with the little 
 girl in earnest dumb show. She disappears, and he 
 turns to the audience) She says I mustn't t'^U you 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 
 too much about our play, because if I did I might 
 spoil it all. But I must say this: {luith great pre- 
 caution that the actors behind the curtains shall not 
 overhear him, he whispers to the audience) don't be 
 afraid that the Ogre's going to eat her! By no 
 means! Of course, I know that it looks as if that 
 were going to happen. But don't let it upset you. 
 (Very confidentially) Appearances are deceptive. 
 [^The curtains part once more, and the little girl re- 
 monstrates with the Jester again. 
 
 THE JESTER 
 
 She says I mustn't say another word. They're all 
 ready to begin. {He goes solemnly to the side of the 
 stage, hows to the audience, and raps three times. 
 The curtains part, disclosing a large room with a door 
 at the hack, and a large, heavily harred door at the 
 side. Seats himself comfortably) This is the larder 
 in the Ogre's Castle. It is a very unpleasant Castle, 
 with a Moat and a Drawbridge and a Portcullis and 
 Sentries, and no hot and cold running water and 
 very old-fashioned plumbing. But then the Ogre 
 doesn't bathe very often, and if he did, he would 
 find the Moat much roomier than any bathtub 
 (though not nearly so private); but the plumbing 
 has nothing to do with this play, so it doesn't really 
 matter. 
 
 This is the Ogre's larder {in answer to an im- 
 aginary question from the audience he spells out the 
 
 word) l-a-r-d-e-r and this is inside the Ogre's 
 
 Castle, and all that we can see of the outside is a 
 wee patch of sky through the narrow, barred windows 
 high up in the thick stone walls. 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 39 
 
 You wonder where that big door leads. Well {and 
 he whispers to the audience again) in those good old 
 days they didn't have ice-boxes, and the Ogre had 
 to keep his dinner alive until he was ready to eat it; 
 and there is a whole collection of dinners behind that 
 door waiting for the Ogre to get up an appetite. 
 {A telephone rings on a kitchen table) 
 
 Of course, some people will say there were no tele- 
 phones in the Steenth Century, when all of this 
 happens; but I read a book which was written then, 
 and it doesn't say that they didn't have telephones, 
 and if the man who wrote that book didn't know, 
 I'd like to know who does! 
 
 [^The Ogre's cook, who is fat, and sleepy, and who has 
 been dozing at the big table, wakes up and goes to the 
 telephone. 
 
 This is the Ogre's Cook. You will learn to know her 
 much better later on. 
 THE COOK (who, by the way, is a lady-cook) 
 Hello! Hello! {She jiggles the lever up and dawn) 
 What? ... Ye rang me, Cintral. {She hangs up 
 the telephone in disgust) "Excuse it, please!" 
 
 \^The Ogre enters. He is a little bent gentleman, with 
 thick spectacles, who hobbles around with the aid of a 
 cane. 
 
 THE JESTER 
 
 This is the Ogre. {The Ogre, proceeding into the 
 room, stops to bow to the Jester, who returns his bow) 
 He is a very polite Ogre. 
 THE OGRE {bows to the Jester again, and goes to the Cook) 
 Where are my pills.? 
 
40 THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 
 THE COOK (producing a bottle containing enormous red 
 
 and green pills) 
 
 There they are, sorr. (The Ogre empties out two or 
 
 three) Wait a minute; I'll be afther gettin' ye a 
 
 sup of wather! (She brings him water) There! 
 THE OGRE {swallowing — or appearing to swallow — 
 
 several pills) My stomach feels so bad — so bad 
 
 this morning! 
 THE JESTER {to the audience) 
 
 So would yours if you ate what he eats! 
 
 THE OGRE {to the CooJc) 
 
 I thought I heard the telephone ring. 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Yez did, sorr. 
 
 THE JESTER 
 
 I forgot to say that the Cook is Irish. They had 
 Irish cooks in the Steenth Century, just as they 
 will have Irish cooks in the Steenty-Steenth. 
 THE OGRE {to the Cook) 
 Well, what did they want.^ 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 'Twas a wrong number, sorr. Bad 'cess on 'em! 
 THE JESTER {vnth a wealth of expression) 
 
 "Bad 'cess" is something like measles — only more 
 
 unpleasant. 
 
 [^The telephone rings again. The Ogre takes it up. 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 Hello! Yes ... Yes .. . (Angnly) YES! {With 
 a sudden change of manner, very cordially) Oh, it's 
 the butcher! 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 The butcher! 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 41 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 Do we need any meat? 
 THE COOK (counting on her fingers) 
 I'm afraid we do, sorr. 
 
 THE JESTER 
 
 What a whopper! Just wait and see what they've 
 got behind that door! 
 
 THE OGRE (to the telephone) 
 
 Yes; we need some meat. What have you got 
 that's nice this morning? . . (To the Cook) He 
 says he's got a nice fresh pohtician. Ugh! 
 
 THE COOK (earnestly) 
 
 PoHticians? Don't be afther thryin' thim again, 
 sorr. Th' last wan was so tough 'twas all I could 
 do to make broth out of him! 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 And I couldn't keep even that on my stomach! 
 (He turns to the telephone) No; no politicians this 
 morning. What else have you got? . . . (With 
 great pleasure) He's got a poet! 
 \^The Jester breaks into uproarious laughter and ap- 
 plause, rocking back and forth overcome with mirth 
 at something humorous which the audience has ap- 
 parently overlooked. The Ogre and the Cook stop the 
 action of the play to bow appreciatively to the Jester, 
 who continues to laugh. When he finally quiets down, 
 the play proceeds again. 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 What does he say he has? 
 
 THE OGRES 
 
 He say he's got a poet! 
 
42 THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 
 THE COOK (reproachfully) 
 Now! Now! 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 I love poetry! And I love poets! Particularly fried 
 with drawn butter and parsley! 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Do yez want to kill yourself entoirely? Ye had a 
 nightmare after ye et the last. Did ye or did ye 
 not? Well? 
 THE OGRE {sadly and reluctantly) 
 I did. 
 
 THE JESTER 
 
 He would have had a Welsh rabbit dream if Welsh 
 rabbits had been invented, but this is the Steenth 
 Century, and nobody has discovered them yet. 
 
 THE COOK (with finality) 
 
 No more poets, if ye know what's best for ye! 
 
 THE OGRE (to the telephone^ sorrowfully) 
 
 No; no poets to-day . . . (He turns to the Cook 
 again) He says he's got some nice little girls. 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 How much? 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 How much? . . . Forty-eight cents a pound? My, 
 my, you're dear! 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 'Tis the only thing ye can digest. 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 He says they'll do for broiling. 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Take 'em. 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 43 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 I'd prefer something else for a change. 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 An' upset your stomach again? Take 'em, or it'll 
 be th' worse for ye! 
 THE OGRE (to the telephone) 
 
 Can you pick out one? Just one? . . . Nice? . . . 
 Fat? . . . Juicy? . . . (He turns to the Cook) I 
 think I ought to go to the market and pick her out 
 myself. 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Let me talk to him! (She takes up the telephone) 
 Listen, me bould shpalpeen! 
 
 THE JESTER 
 
 "Shpalpeen" is an Irish word, and I don't know 
 exactly what it means. 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Send her up; yis, send her up! An' if she isn't 
 better than th' last, 'tis meself will make yez eat 
 her! Yis! Ye'll have to eat her, even if she sticks 
 in your craw! So there! (She hangs up the receiver^ 
 and turns to the Ogre) When I've finished cookin' 
 her; when I've got her stuffed with sage and chest- 
 nuts, an' roasted to a turn, with a sweet sauce with 
 almonds and rice, my, won't she make your mouth 
 wather! 
 THE OGRE (disconsolately) 
 I suppose so; I suppose so. 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Ye talk as if ye didn't like th' idea. 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 I don't. I don't like to eat children. I'd prefer 
 mutton; or beef. 
 
44 THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Ye can't digest thim; an' if ye could, ye wouldn't 
 be an ogre. 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 I don't want to be an ogre. 
 
 THE COOK (with finality) 
 
 Ye've got to be an ogre! 
 THE JESTER (tuming to the audience apprehensively) 
 
 He's got to be an ogre, or there won't be any play! 
 THE COOK (proceeding to the barred door) 
 
 Look what's waitin' for ye! Your Monday dinner! 
 
 \^She opens the door, and a little girl enters, 
 THE OGRE (peering around) 
 
 Where is it? Where is it? 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Right before your eyes! 
 
 THE JESTER 
 
 He's so blind he can hardly see her. 
 THE OGRE (finally discerning the little girl, and rising 
 
 politely) 
 
 How do you do, dinner? 
 THE MONDAY DINNER (frightened, but curtsying) 
 
 Very well, thank you, sir. 
 THE COOK (introducing other little girls as they enter) 
 
 Your Tuesday dinner. Your Wednesday dinner. 
 
 Your Thursday dinner. Your Friday dinner. Your 
 
 Saturday dinner. Your Sunday dinner. 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 How do you do, food? 
 
 THE DINNERS 
 
 Very well, thank you, sir. 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 45 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 Are you getting enough to eat? 
 
 THE MONDAY DINNER 
 
 Oh, yes, sir! Plenty, sir. 
 THE OGRE {turning to the Cook) 
 
 Didn't one of them have a cold? 
 THE COOK {indicating the Wednesday dinner) 
 
 'Twas this wan. 
 THE OGRE {hobbling closer) 
 
 How do you feel, my dear? Is your cold better? 
 
 THE WEDNESDAY DINNER 
 
 Buch bedder! Thagk you, sir. 
 THE OGRE {tragically) 
 
 "Buch bedder! Thagk you, sir!" She wants to 
 poison me! 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Wednesday dinner, change place with Sunday 
 dinner! There! {The two girls indicated change 
 places) Give yourself th' benefit of th' doubt! 
 Never take a chanst, says I! 
 THE OGRE {cheering up a little as he surveys his collection) 
 I don't see why we want more meat when we have 
 all of this. 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Ye don't want to eat thim till they're fattened up, 
 do ye? 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 No; I suppose not. 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Give 'em toime, says I; give 'em toime! 
 THE OGRE {going to the Monday dinner) 
 Let me feel your muscle, my dear. {The little girl 
 
46 THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 
 doubles her arm. The Ogre feels her muscle. With 
 great pleasure) Is that the best you can do? 
 
 THE MONDAY DINNER 
 
 Yes, sir. 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 Try hard. Now! 
 
 THE MONDAY DINNER 
 
 I'm trying my hardest. 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 And that's your very best? 
 
 THE MONDAY DINNER 
 
 Yes, sir. 
 THE OGRE (excitedly) 
 
 Sweet child ! 
 
 \^He attempts to take a bite out of her biceps. 
 THE COOK {stopping him energetically) 
 
 Not raw! Not raw! 
 THE OGRE (reluctantly) 
 
 I suppose not. But isn't she just too sweet! 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 She'll be much swater fricasseed with Maryland 
 
 sauce. 
 
 \^The Jester, as before, breaks into hilarious laughter. 
 
 All the performers are pleased, and bow to him. 
 
 THE JESTER 
 
 Maryland sauce! In the Steenth Century! Mary- 
 land sauce! 
 
 [^The actors show that they are offended; the Jester 
 subsides suddenly; the play continues. 
 THE OGRE (proceeding to the Thursday dinner) 
 
 And you, my dear; let me feel your muscle. (He 
 feels; then to the Cook) 
 She's not very tender. 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 47 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 She's only been here a week, sorr. 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 Put her to bed; no exercise; double rations; lots 
 of candy and cream. 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Yis, sorr. 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 Even then we may have to use her for soup stock. 
 {He shakes his finger at her) I'm disappointed in 
 you, little girl! Disappointed! (He looks around 
 piteously) I'm an old man, and I haven't a good 
 digestion, and what you would do to me! Oh, 
 what you would do to me! (He collapses into a 
 chair) Get me my pills. (The Cook brings them. 
 He swallows one. Points to the Thursday dinner) 
 Take her away! Take them all away! The thought 
 of them is enough to ruin my appetite! 
 THE COOK (to the dinners) 
 
 Come on, there's a dear. Come on. Come on. 
 \^She urges them back where they came from. 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 Get them out of my sight! Away with them! 
 (Feebly) This business of being an ogre isn't what 
 it's cracked up to be! 
 
 THE JESTER (shaking his head sympathetically) 
 
 Of course, he didn't use those words in the Steenth 
 Century; but that's exactly how he felt. (Address- 
 ing the Ogre) Isn't that true? 
 \^The Ogre nods sadly. 
 
 THE COOK (having fastened the great door, returns to 
 the Ogre, and begins temptingly) 
 
48 
 
 THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 
 With a bit of allspice, and a dash of lemon, and a 
 little mushroom flavoring . . . 
 THE OGRE (interrupting) 
 Ugh! 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 An' a thick yellow sauce, an' a touch of curry . . , 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 Ugh! Ugh! 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 An' I'll bake some of 'em into a pie, browned on 
 th' top, an' crisp at th' edges . . . 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! 
 
 THE JESTER 
 
 He's thinking of the pies his mother used to make. 
 [^A trumpet call outside. 
 
 Maestoso f ^-.^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 i 
 
 ^^ 
 
 i^. 
 
 The but - cher man! The but - cher man! 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 The butcher! 
 THE OGRE (brightening a little) 
 The new girl! 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 I'll bring her right in! 
 [_The trumpet sounds a second time. 
 Presto ff ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 s 
 
 p^ 
 
 -/5>— 
 
 ^ 
 
 Hur - ry 
 
 up ! Hur-ry up ! Hur-ry up ! Hur-ry up ! 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 
 49 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Take yer toime! Take yer toime! I'm coming! 
 [^She goes out. 
 
 THE JESTER 
 
 That was the way the butcher announced he was 
 calHng in the Steenth Century. In those good old 
 days there was style to keeping house. 
 [_The trumpet blows a third tirne; a long and com- 
 plicated call. 
 
 g 
 
 Becitativo 
 
 • • • 
 -•- -•- -•- 
 
 I've put her on the dumb-wait-er ! I've 
 
 molto ritard. 
 
 i 
 
 /, 
 
 :i — I — r 
 
 Se^^ 
 
 ^^=F 
 
 ^ 
 
 put her on ^ the dumb-wait-er! I've put her on the 
 
 a tempo 
 
 i 
 
 ^ 
 
 «/ 
 
 ^ 
 
 I 
 
 4 — -- 
 
 dumb-wait - er ! 
 
 Now hoi - 
 
 - - St! 
 
 THE JESTER {after having listened attentively) 
 
 In the language of the Steenth Century, that means, 
 "I've put her on the dumb-waiter. Hoist." 
 {The Ogre, who has been sitting at the table disconso- 
 lately, rises laboriously, produces a pocket mirror and 
 a comb, and proceeds to spruce himself up. The Jester, 
 sighing) 
 The good old days! Ah, the good old days! To-day 
 
50 THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 
 what housewife would powder her nose to receive 
 a lamb chop? 
 
 [^The door at the rear flies open, the Ogre faces about 
 ceremoniously, and the little girl who interrupted the 
 Jester before the curtains parted stands on the threshold. 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 Hello! 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 Hello! 
 THE OGRE (bounng rheumatically) 
 
 Allow me to welcome you to my castle. 
 FRANCES {curtsying) 
 
 Thank you. 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 Won't you walk in? 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 Yes. {She looks around) What a queer room this 
 is! Oh, but it's not polite to criticize. 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 It is anything but polite. I think it is a very nice 
 room. 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 Do you? Well, then, I agree with you. 
 THE OGRE {unable to believe his ears) 
 
 What did you say? What did you say? 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 I said, "I agree with you." 
 THE OGRE {joyfully) 
 
 You agree with me! What beautiful words! You 
 agree with me! How I hope you mean it! 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 Of course I mean it. 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 51 
 
 THE OGRE {dubiously) 
 
 I'll know more about that a little later. 
 
 THE JESTER 
 
 He means he'll have inside information. 
 THE OGRE {shaking his head sadly) 
 
 It's happened to me so often before : so often! 
 I've met little girls — oh, the dearest children — 
 and they said they'd agree with me, and I thought 
 they meant it. But they didn't. {He rubs his 
 stomach pathetically) They disagreed with me most 
 violently. Deceitful little wretches! 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 I hope you won't find me deceitful. 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 I hope I won't, my dear. When I think of what I 
 did for some of those children it almost destroys 
 my faith in human nature! I treated them like 
 royalty; I fed them on the fat of the land; I thought 
 nothing was too good for them! And how did they 
 repay me? They kept me awake nights! 
 [He hobbles to the table and takes a pill. 
 FRANCES {timidly) 
 
 I don't know if I ought to talk to you. 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 And why not, pray? 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 We haven't been introduced. 
 THE OGRE {smiling) 
 
 Well, that can be arranged. What is your name? 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 My name is Frances. 
 
52 THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 Pleased to meet you. Now, is everything all right? 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 What is your name? 
 THE OGRE (sighing) 
 
 It's so long since anybody has called me by my name 
 
 that I've almost forgotten it. I'm just the Ogre. 
 
 But when I was a little fellow, just a shaver — 
 THE JESTER (interrupting) 
 
 An Ogrette, so to speak. 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 My mother used to call me Freddy. 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 / can't very well call you Freddy, can I? 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 No; but you can think of me as Freddy. You will, 
 sometimes; won't you? 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 Yes. I promise. 
 THE OGRE (walking about emotionally) 
 
 How that brings back thoughts of the old days! 
 Things were different then! Oh, yes! Things were 
 different. (Suddenly he stops near her) Would you 
 mind? (He doubles her arm) It's all right now that 
 we've been introduced. That's right. (He feels her 
 biceps with signs of joy) I believe, oh, I do believe 
 that you will agree with me! (He hastens to the 
 kitchen table and opens a huge diary. He leafs through 
 it, mumbling the names of the days) Monday — 
 Wednesday — Friday — A week from Monday; 
 that's it ! (He turns politely to the girl) How would 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 53 
 
 you like to make a date with me for a week from 
 Monday? 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 A date? What for? 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 A date for supper. 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 Don't I get anything to eat until then? 
 THE OGRE {laughing heartily) 
 How absurd! How perfectly preposterous! How 
 utterly ridiculous! You get something to eat every 
 haK hour! Every fifteen minutes, if you want it! 
 Why, you spend the whole day eating! You tell 
 the Cook your favorite dishes, and she does nothing 
 except cook them for you — except when she's cook- 
 ing for me. And then, a week from Monday, we 
 meet at the supper table. Is it a go? 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 A go? 
 THE OGRE (correcting himself) 
 
 Pardon my slang. I mean, do you accept my 
 
 invitation? 
 FRANCES (after thinking) 
 
 Yes; thank you. 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 That's fine! Of course, it doesn't really matter 
 whether you accept or not, because you'll be there, 
 anyway. But it's always nicer to do things politely, 
 isn't it? 
 FRANCES (without answering) 
 After Monday; what then? 
 
54 THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 
 THE JESTER 
 
 You see! She's getting suspicious! 
 THE OGRE (lightly) 
 
 After Monday? The world will go on in the same 
 
 old way. And you, let us hope (he sighs blissfully), 
 
 will be a sweet memory. 
 
 [He strikes a gong. 
 THE COOK (entering) 
 
 Yis, sorr.f^ 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 Cook, this is Frances. (They bow to each other) 
 Frances and I have made an appointment for a 
 week from Monday. 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Yis, sorr. I'll raymember it. 
 THE OGRE (taking the Cook aside) 
 
 How will we have her? Stuffed and roasted? 
 THE COOK (shaking her head) 
 
 If I'm not afther makin' a mistake, she'll do for 
 
 broiling. 
 THE OGRE (delighted) 
 
 You really think so? Well, then, broiling it is. (He 
 
 hobbles to the door much more cheerfully) I'm beginning 
 
 to feel better already. Good morning. 
 
 [He goes. 
 FRANCES (going to the Cook) 
 
 What does he mean by roasting and broiling? 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Don't ye know? 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 No. 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 55 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Ye*ll learn soon enough. (She goes, locking the en- 
 trance door behind her. Frances tries the door; it 
 will not open) 
 
 THE JESTER 
 
 Now she's getting very suspicious. 
 [^Frances comes back to the center of the room, plainly 
 worried. She goes to the great barred door, pushes 
 aside the bars and opens it. The dinners rush in. 
 FRANCES (surprised) 
 Hello! 
 
 THE DINNERS 
 
 Hello! 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 Who are you? 
 
 THE DINNERS 
 
 We are the dinners. I am the Monday dinner. I 
 am the Tuesday dinner. I am the Weddesday 
 didder — the Thursday dinner — 
 [a chorus 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 The Monday dinner? The Tuesday dinner? What- 
 ever do you mean? 
 
 THE MONDAY DINNER 
 
 He's going to eat me to-night. 
 FRANCES (horrified) 
 
 Eat you? 
 THE TUESDAY DINNER (nodding) 
 
 And he's going to eat me to-morrow. 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 Oh! 
 THE WEDNESDAY DINNER (you remember she has a cold) 
 
56 THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 
 Yes; ad he's goig to eat me Weddesday, udless 
 she (pointing to the Tuesday dinner) upsets his 
 stubbig ! 
 FRANCES (desperately) 
 
 I don't beheve it! I don't beheve it! 
 
 THE MONDAY DINNER 
 
 Do you know where you are? This is the Ogre's 
 Castle! 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 What of it? 
 
 THE MONDAY DINNER 
 
 You know what an Ogre is, don't you? 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 But — but he's such a nice old man. He said he 
 was going to dine with me a week from Monday. 
 
 THE TUESDAY DINNER 
 
 Not with you; on you! 
 
 THE JESTER 
 
 What a difference one little word makes! 
 FRANCES (terror-stricken) 
 
 Dine on me? You mean he's going to eat me? 
 
 THE MONDAY DINNER 
 
 Of course! He's an Ogre. 
 
 THE TUESDAY DINNER 
 
 First he'll keep you here a week, and fatten you. 
 
 THE THURSDAY DINNER 
 
 That's what he's doing with all of us. 
 
 THE FRIDAY DINNER 
 
 He'll feel your muscle every day. 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 He's done that already! 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 57 
 
 THE WEDNESDAY DINNER 
 
 He'll feed you till you're nice (she has a struggle 
 pronouncing the word) ad fat ad juicy, ad thed — 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 And then? 
 
 THE MONDAY DINNER 
 
 Your turn will come a week from Monday. 
 FRANCES (desperately) 
 
 But I don't want to be eaten! 
 
 THE MONDAY DINNER 
 
 None of us want to be eaten. But what can we do 
 about it? 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 I know what / can do about it! Go to the door! 
 Listen! Tell me if you hear any one coming! (The 
 dinners rush to the door; Frances to the telephone) 
 Hello! Hello! . . . Central, please be quick! . . . 
 Hello, Central, give me Information! (She turns to 
 the dinners) Do you hear anything? 
 
 THE MONDAY DINNER 
 
 All right so far! 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 Hello, Information! Information? . . . Give me the 
 telephone number of my Fairy Godmother. . . . No, 
 I don't know where she lives, and I don't know her 
 name. But you know, don't you? ... Of course 
 you know! That's what you're there for! . . . Yes; 
 I'll hold the wire; but hurry \ Hurry! 
 
 THE MONDAY DINNER 
 
 The Ogre's coming! 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 Lock the door^. 
 
58 THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 
 THE MONDAY DINNER 
 
 It's locked already! But he's unlocking it! 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 Then don't let him in! 
 
 [J. key turns gratingly in the lock, hut the dinners hold 
 
 fast to the knob. 
 
 THE MONDAY DINNER 
 
 He's trying to open the door! 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 Hold tight! Hold tight! {She turns to the telephone 
 excitedly) Oh, how do you do, Fairy Godmother? 
 This is Frances. I'm in trouble; terrible trouble. . . . 
 What? ... I don't have to tell you about it? You 
 know all about it already? Oh, you are a Fairy 
 Godmother! Now what am I to do? . . . Yes? . . . 
 Yes? ... I turn my ring twice? And then back 
 once? Oh, thank you! Thank you ever so much! 
 [She hangs up. 
 
 THE WEDNESDAY DINNER 
 
 He's gone to get the Cook! 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 Quick! Hide! 
 
 [_The dinners rush madly out of sight. The door 
 bursts open; the Ogre and the Cook rush in. 
 THE OGRE {very angry) 
 
 Who tried to keep me out? {He peers about and 
 catches sight of Frances) Did you do it? You 
 couldn't have done it all by yourself; you couldn't. 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 Well, if I couldn't, I didn't. So there! 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 Be more respectful to your elders! {He hobbles 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 59 
 
 about the room) There's only one of them here. 
 Where are the others? 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 What others? 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 You know well enough! (He turns to the Cook) 
 See if they're all there! If there's one missing — 
 (and he gasps at the thought) — if there's one missing, 
 I'll eat you (he points a finger at the tremUing Cook) 
 even if you're the death of me! 
 
 THE JESTER (uodding) 
 And she would be! 
 
 THE COOK (opening the barred door and counting, terror- 
 stricken) 
 Wan — three — foive — sivin. None missing, sorr. 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 But there might have been! There might have 
 been! (He hobbles about the room, glaring at Frances) 
 Hum! So this is how you repay me for my hospi- 
 tality! This is how you reward me for my kind- 
 ness! This is the thanks you give me for the food 
 and shelter which I was ready to provide! 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 How about the food which I was to provide? 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 That's another matter! Quite another matter! (He 
 turns to the Cook) Light the fire! See that it's 
 good and hot! Get the spit ready! I'm going to 
 do something that I've never done before in my life; 
 I'm going to roast her myself! 
 \_He turns savagely on Frances. 
 
60 THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 
 THE COOK {very much alarmed) 
 Oh, don't do that, sorr! 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 And why not? 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Ye could never eat her! Roasting's an art! YeVe 
 got to learn how! 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 I*m going to start learning this minute. 
 THE COOK {desperately) 
 
 Lave it to me, sorr. Let me do it! {She beckons 
 
 anxiously to Frances) Come along, little girl! Come 
 
 along! 
 THE OGRE {furiously) 
 
 Did you hear what I said? Well, I meant it! 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 But — 
 THE OGRE {interrupting at the top of his lungs) 
 
 Do as I say! 
 THE COOK {whimpering) 
 
 Yis, sorr. 
 
 [^She turns slowly to the door, very much frightened. 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 No! Stop! {The Cook stops. Frances turns to the 
 Ogre) You're not going to eat me! 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 No? 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 No! 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 Well, just watch me! 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 61 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 You're nothing but a bogey man in a fairy tale! 
 And fairy tales always come out happily. I've 
 known that ever since I was five. 
 THE OGRE (seizing a huge knife from the table and ad- 
 vancing upon her) 
 
 And how are you going to make this one turn out 
 happily? 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 Just so! 
 
 [^She raises her hands and turns the ring. Instantly 
 the lights go out and thunder rumbles and crashes. 
 THE OGRE (in the dark) 
 Where is she? Where is she? Let me catch her! 
 Just let me get my hands on her! 
 
 A VOICE 
 
 Here I am! 
 
 [^The room lights up. But the voice has not come 
 from Frances; it has come from a strapping Boy 
 Scout who stands, quite fearless, on the spot where 
 she stood. 
 
 THE COOK (gasping with surprise) 
 Saints in Hiven, how she's changed! 
 
 THE JESTER (indicating the Ogre with glee) 
 He's too blind to know the difference! 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 Now I've got you! 
 
 \JIe advances with his knife. As he raises it to strike, 
 the Scout knocks it out of his hand. 
 THE OGRE (collapsing with astonishment) 
 She knocked it out of my hand! 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 
 THE COOK (bursting with laughter) 
 
 Indade she did! 
 THE OGRE (incredulously) 
 
 A little girl knocked that knife out of my hand! 
 
 (He goes to the Scout, still unaware of what has taken 
 
 place) If you don't mind, may I feel your muscle? 
 THE SCOUT (smiling and doubling his arm) 
 . Certainly ! 
 THE OGRE (feels) 
 
 Oh! 0-h! O— h— h! 
 
 [He sinks helpless into a chair. 
 THE SCOUT (pointing to the barred door) 
 
 Open that door! 
 THE COOK (gesticulating at the Ogre) 
 
 Not unless he says so. 
 
 THE SCOUT 
 
 Open that door! 
 
 [There is a terrific hammering on the barred door, 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 I don't dast! 
 
 THE SCOUT 
 
 You don't have to! 
 
 [And on the word the door fiies open and a troop of 
 
 Boy Scouts bursts into the room. 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Saints preserve us! 
 THE OGRE (peering at them fearfully) 
 Who are you? 
 
 THE SCOUTS 
 
 I'm the Monday dinner! I'm the Tuesday dinner! 
 — the Wednesday dinner! — the Thursday dinner! 
 [A chorus. 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 63 
 
 THE OGRE (rises very slowly, very feebly, and staggers 
 towards them) If you don't mind? {He feels the 
 muscle of two or three. Then, very faintly) I knew 
 this was going to happen some day! 
 [He faints. 
 
 THE FIRST BOY SCOUT 
 
 And now, what are we going to do with him? 
 
 THE SCOUTS 
 
 Kill him! 
 
 No, kiUing's too good for him! 
 Yes, kill him! 
 THE COOK (hastening to them) 
 
 Go aisy, lads! Go aisy! Ye don't think the ould 
 baste {and she points to the unconscious form of the 
 Ogre) ever really et anybody? 
 
 THE PRINCIPAL BOY SCOUT 
 
 He never ate anybody? I don't believe it! 
 THE COOK (smiling) 
 
 I wouldn't be afther sayin' it if he could hear me, 
 but just bechune you an' me, lads, he never et 
 anything but what you and I would eat! (They 
 look at her in astonishment. She continues confi- 
 dentially) 'Twas himself that did the buyin', but 
 'twas I that did the cookin', an' what he got on 
 his table — (She interrupts) D'ye know what it 
 was? 
 
 THE SCOUTS 
 
 No. What was it? 
 THE COOK (with great secrecy) 
 Irish stew! 
 
 THE JESTER 
 
 That's why his stomach was always out of order! 
 
64 THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Irish stew and Irish stew! Day in an' day out for 
 twinty years! An* every single wan av 'em differ- 
 ent! Once — once in a long while 'twas roast 
 lamb; but in the main 'twas Irish stew, and then, 
 more Irish stew! 
 
 ONE OF THE SCOUTS 
 
 But he thinks he's been eating — 
 
 THE COOK (interrupting) 
 
 I can't help what he thinks. He can think what he 
 plases. If he chooses to think he's been eatin' 
 them little dears (and she points to the barred door 
 and to the room which it discloses) 'tis his privilege! 
 But before I'd let wan av 'em come to harm, 'tis 
 meself would take th' ould baste an' cook him in his 
 own kitchen! 
 
 ONE OF THE SCOUTS (after a pause) 
 We've all read of ogres. 
 
 ANOTHER 
 
 Yes. 
 
 ANOTHER 
 
 Man-eating ogres! 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 Sure! Well, I ask ye this; did ye ever read of a 
 man-eating ogre ever eatin' anybody.'* Think care- 
 ful before ye speak! Did ye ever read of any foine 
 young hero gettin' fricasseed .^^ Ye did not! (Tri- 
 umphantly) An' for why.f* 'Twas because ivry last 
 wan av th' ogres had an Irish cook, an' because when 
 they served him up an Irish stew, how should him- 
 self know if 'twas lamb — or beef — or perhaps the 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 65 
 
 loikes of you? {The Ogre moves feebly) Don't let 
 on ye know, lads! It's a trade secret! 
 
 THE PRINCIPAL BOY SCOUT 
 
 There's one thing you've got to explain. 
 
 THE COOK 
 
 An' that is? 
 THE PRINCIPAL BOY SCOUT (pointing to the great barred 
 
 door) 
 
 That is his larder, isn't it? It was full of little girls. 
 
 Now, what's happened to them? 
 THE COOK (scratching her head) 
 
 That's a foine question for th' loikes of you to be 
 
 askin' me! 
 
 THE PRINCIPAL BOY SCOUT 
 
 Why? 
 THE COOK (perplexed) 
 
 Afther th' magic's gone an' changed thim all into 
 you! (And she points around the circle. The Scouts 
 are puzzled. She points to the ring on the leader's 
 finger) She had a ring loike that, an' she turned it 
 somehow — 
 
 THE PRINCIPAL BOY SCOUT 
 
 Turned it? 
 
 [^He raises his hand curiously and examines the ring. 
 THE COOK (eagerly) 
 Thry turning it! 
 
 [_The Principal Boy Scout turns the ring. Again 
 there is darkness and rolling thunder. But when the 
 light appears again, the Boy Scouts have not vanished. 
 Instead, next to each one stands one of the missing 
 dinners. 
 
66 THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 
 THE COOK (triumphantly) 
 
 Th' magic worked different this time, but there ye 
 
 are! 
 THE OGRE (rises feebly, and staggers to a chair. He 
 
 looks around grimly and fastens his gaze upon the 
 
 Cook) 
 
 I heard what you said! I wasn't unconscious! 
 THE COOK (terrified) 
 
 For th' love of Mike! 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 When I thought I was eating little girls you were 
 
 really serving me Irish stew? Nothing but Irish 
 
 stew? 
 THE COOK (trembling) 
 
 Y-yis, sorr. 
 THE OGRE (turning to Frances and the dinners) 
 
 I take back all the hard things I ever thought of 
 
 you! (He rises slowly) Open the doors! Let them 
 
 go home! 
 
 THE DINNERS 
 
 Home! 
 
 He's going to let us go home! 
 
 We're not going to be eaten! 
 
 We're going home! 
 FRANCES (who, perhaps, is a little sorry for the Ogre, 
 
 coming to him gently) 
 
 But what are you going to eat now? 
 THE OGRE (smiling) 
 
 Do you really want to know? 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 Yes. 
 
THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 67 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 Fm going to turn vegetarian! 
 
 THE CURTAINS BEGIN TO CLOSE 
 
 THE JESTER (rising) 
 
 Stop! Those curtains must not close! 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 Why not? 
 
 THE JESTER 
 
 This is a fairy play. Where's the moral? 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 That's so! 
 THE COOK (scratching her head) 
 Well, what is the moral? 
 
 THE OGRE 
 
 Maybe — maybe — I ate the moral. 
 
 l^There is a pause while everybody thinks hard. 
 
 THE JESTER 
 
 Well, I'm waiting. 
 THE COOK (with innermost conviction) 
 
 The moral's got something to do with Irish stew! 
 THE OGRE (shuddering) 
 
 Let's hope not! 
 
 \^He swallows a pill hastily. 
 FRANCES (after another pause) 
 
 This is the moral; when you're in trouble, ask for 
 
 Information and telephone your Fairy Godmother. 
 
 THE PRINCIPAL BOY SCOUT 
 
 But what are you going to do if there's no telephone? 
 
 FRANCES 
 
 I don't know. Let's ask the Ogre. 
 
68 THE DYSPEPTIC OGRE 
 
 THE PRINCIPAL BOY SCOUT 
 
 Yes; let's ask the Ogre. 
 THE COOK {breaks into laughter, rocks back and forth 
 
 doubled up with mirth. Finally, gasping for breath, 
 
 wiping the tears from her eyes) 
 
 G'wan! Ye don't really believe in Ogres? 
 THE JESTER {with a Sweeping gesture) 
 
 That is the moral! 
 
 [He bows. 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
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