[The curtain rises on a stage set for a Harlequinade, a merry black and white interior. Directly behind the footlights, and running parallel with them, is a long table, covered with a gay black and white cloth, on which is spread a banquet. At the opposite ends of this table, seated on delicate thin-legged chairs with high backs, are Pierrot and Columbine, dressed according to the tradition, excepting that Pierrot is in lilac, and Columbine in pink. They are dining.] COLUMBINE: Pierrot, a macaroon! I cannot live without a macaroon! PIERROT: My only love, You are so intense! . . . Is it Tuesday, Columbine?- I'll kiss you if it's Tuesday. COLUMBINE: It is Wednesday, If you must know . . . . Is this my artichoke, Or yours? PIERROT: Ah, Columbine,-as if it mattered! Wednesday . . . . Will it be Tuesday, then, to-morrow, By any chance? COLUMBINE: To-morrow will be-Pierrot, That isn't funny!
