Scene III.

(_A voice is heard in the distance._)

Tralala, tralala! little mother, here am I! Tralala, tralala! bringing luck and jollity!

(_Rather nearer._)

O, for you and me, poor mother, every day is like the other; with a big hole in the purse, and in the stomach an even worse. Tralala, tralala! Hunger is the poor man's curse! Tralala, tralala! Hunger is the poor man's curse!

(_The father appears at the window, and during the following he comes into the room in a very happy mood, with a basket on his back._)

'Tisn't much that we require, just a little food and fire! But alas! it's true enough, life on some of us is rough! Hunger is a customer tough! (_or_) Yes, the rich enjoys his dinner, while the poor grows daily thinner! Strives to eat, as well he may, somewhat less than yesterday!

(_Complainingly._)

Tralala, tralala! hunger is the devil to pay! Tralala, tralala! hunger is the devil to pay!

(_He puts down his basket._)

Yes, hunger's all very well to feel, if you can get a good square meal; but when there's nought, what can you do, supposing the purse be empty too? Tralalala, tralalala! O for a drop of mountain dew! Tralalala, tralalala! Mother, look what I have brought!

(Reels over to his sleeping wife and gives her a smacking kiss.)

MOTHER (_rubbing her eyes_).

Oho!-- Who's sing-sing-singing all around the house, and tra-la-la-ing me out of my sleep?

FATHER (_inarticulately_).

How now!-- The hungry beast within my breast called so for food I could not rest! Tralala, tralala! Hunger is an urgent beast! Tralala, tralala! pinches, gnaws, and gives no rest!

MOTHER.

So, so! And this wild beast, you gave him a feast. He's had his fill, to say the least!

FATHER.

Well, yes! H'm! it was a lovely day, don't you think so, dear wife?

(_Wants to kiss her._)

MOTHER

(_pushing him angrily away, excitedly_).

Have done! You have no troubles to bear, 'tis I must keep the house!

FATHER.

Well, well,--then let us see, my dear, what we have got to eat to-day.

MOTHER.

Most simple is the bill of fare, our supper's gone, I know not where! Larder bare, cellar bare, nothing, and plenty of it to spare!

FATHER.

Tralalala, tralalala! Cheer up, mother, for here am I, bringing luck and jollity!

(_He takes his basket and begins to display he contents._)

Look, mother, doesn't all this food please you?

MOTHER.

Man, man, what see I? Ham and butter, flour and sausage-- eggs, a dozen.... (Husband, and they cost a fortune!) Turnips, onions, and--for me! Nearly half a pound of tea!

BOTH.

Tralala, tralala, hip hurrah! Won't we have a festive time! Tralala, hip hurrah! Won't we have a happy time! Now listen how it all came about!

FATHER

(_turns the basket topsy-turvy, and a lot of potatoes roll out. He seizes her by the arm and dances round the room. Sits down. Meanwhile the mother packs away the things, lights a fire, breaks eggs into a saucepan, etc._).

Yonder to the town I went, there was to be a great event, weddings, fairs, and preparation for all kinds of jubilation! Now's my chance to do some selling, and for that you may be thankful! He who wants a feast to keep, he must scrub and brush and sweep. So I brought my best goods out, tramped with them from house to house: "Buy besoms! good besoms! Buy my brushes! sweep your carpets, sweep your cobwebs!" And so I drove a roaring trade, and sold my brushes at the highest prices! Now make haste with cup and platter, bring the glasses, bring the kettle-- here's a health to the besom-maker!

MOTHER.

Here's a health to the besom-maker!

FATHER.

But stay, why, where are the children? Hänsel, Gretel, what's gone with Hans?

MOTHER.

Gone with Hans? O, who's to know? But at least I do know this, that the jug is smashed to bits.

FATHER.

What! the jug is smashed to bits?

MOTHER.

And the cream all run away.

FATHER

(_striking his fist on the table in a rage_).

Hang it all! So those little scapegraces have been again in mischief!

MOTHER (_hastily_).

Been in mischief? I should think so! Nought have they done but their mad pranking; as I came home I could hear them hopping and cutting the wildest capers, till I was so cross that I gave a push-- and the jug of milk was spilt!

FATHER.

And the jug of milk was spilt! Ha ha ha ha!

(_Both laughing._)

Such anger, mother, don't take it ill, seems stupid to me, I must say! But where, where think you the children can be?

MOTHER (_snappishly and curtly_).

For aught I know, at the Ilsenstein!

FATHER (_horror-struck_).

The Ilsenstein! Come, come, have a care!

(_Fetches a broom from the wall._)

MOTHER.

The besom, just put it away again!

FATHER

(_lets the broom fall and wrings his hands_).

My children astray in the gloomy wood, all alone without moon or stars!

MOTHER.

O Heaven!

FATHER.

Dost thou not know the awful magic place, the place where the evil one dwells?

MOTHER (_surprised_).

The evil one! What mean'st thou?

FATHER (_with mysterious emphasis_).

The gobbling ogress!

(_The mother draws back, the father takes up the broom again._)

MOTHER.

The gobbling ogress! But--tell me, what help is the besom!

FATHER.

The besom, the besom, why what is it for? They ride on it, they ride on it, the witches! An old witch within that wood doth dwell and she's in league with the powers of hell. At midnight hour, when nobody knows, away to the witches' dance she goes. Up the chimney they fly, on a broomstick they hie-- over hill and dale, o'er ravine and vale, through the midnight air they gallop full tear-- on a broomstick, on a broomstick, hop hop, hop hop, the witches!

MOTHER.

O horror! But the gobbling witch?

FATHER.

And by day, they say, she stalks around, with a crinching, crunching, munching sound, and children plump and tender to eat she lures with magic gingerbread sweet. On evil bent, with fell intent, she lures the children, poor little things, in the oven red-hot she pops all the lot; she shuts the lid down until they're done brown, in the oven, in the oven, (_Expressively._) the gingerbread children!

MOTHER.

And the gingerbread children?

FATHER.

Are served up for dinner!

MOTHER.

For the ogress?

FATHER.

For the ogress!

MOTHER.

O horror! Heav'n help us! the children! O what shall we do?

(_Runs out of the house._)

FATHER.

Hi, mother, mother, wait for me!

(_Takes the whisky bottle from the table and follows her._)

We'll both go together the witch to seek!

(_The curtain falls quickly._)