The curtain went up.
The scene was a wood, as was evident from a few small branches of trees placed here and there at intervals on the stage.
Joan, in a white dress and red cloak, entered and began to speak, quickly and breathlessly, stressing every word with impartial regularity.
"A little maid am I--Red Riding-Hood.
My journey lies along this dark, thick wood.
Within my basket is a little jar Of jam--a present for my grand-mamma."
Then Cuthbert entered--a Prince in white satin with a blue sash. There was a rapt murmur of admiration in the audience as he made his appearance.
William waited impatiently and uneasily behind the scenes. His wolf's head was very hot. One of the eye-holes was beyond his range of vision; through the other he had a somewhat prescribed view of what went on around him. He had been pinned tightly into the dining-room hearth-rug, his arms pinioned down by his side. He was distinctly uncomfortable.
At last his cue came.
Red Riding-Hood and the Prince parted after a short conversation in which their acquaintance made rapid strides, and at the end of which the Prince said casually as he turned to go:
"So sweet a maid have I never seen, Ere long I hope to make her my wife and queen."
Red Riding-Hood gazed after him, remarking (all in the same breath and tone):
"How kind he is, how gentle and how good!
But, see what evil beast comes through the wood!"
Here William entered amid wild applause. On the stage he found that his one eye-hole gave him an excellent view of the audience. His mother and father were in the second row. Turning his head round slowly he discovered his sister Ethel sitting with a friend near the back.
"William," hissed the prompter, "go on! 'A wolf am I----'"
But William was engrossed in the audience. There was Mrs. Clive about the middle of the room.
"'A wolf am I'--_go on_, William!"
William had now found the cook and housemaid in the last row of all and was turning his eye-hole round in search of fresh discoveries.
The prompter grew desperate.
"'A wolf am I--a wolf on mischief bent.' _Say_ it, William."
William turned his wolf's head towards the wings. "Well, I was _goin'_ to say it," he said irritably, "if you'd lef' me alone."
The audience tittered.
"Well, say it," said the voice of the invisible prompter.
"Well, I'm going to," said William. "I'm not goin' to say that again wot you said 'cause they all heard it. I'll go on from there."
The audience rocked in wild delight. Behind the scenes Mrs. de Vere Carter wrung her hands and sniffed strong smelling-salts. "That boy!"
she moaned.
Then William, sinking his voice from the indignant clearness with which it had addressed the prompter, to a muffled inaudibility, continued:
"To eat this little maid is my intent."
But there leapt on the stage again the radiant white and blue figure of the Prince brandishing his wooden sword.
"Avaunt! Begone! You wicked wolf, away!
This gentle maid shall never be your prey."
At this point William should have slunk away. But the vision revealed by his one available eye-hole of the Prince standing in a threatening attitude with one arm round Joan filled him with a sudden and unaccountable annoyance. He advanced slowly and pugnaciously towards the Prince; and the Prince, who had never before acted with William in his head (which was hired for one evening only) fled from the stage with a wild yell of fear. The curtain was lowered hastily.
There was consternation behind the scenes. William, glaring from out his eye-hole and refusing to remove his head, defended himself in his best manner.
"Well I di'n't tell him to run away, did I? I di'n't _mean_ him to run away. I only _looked_ at him. Well, I was goin' to slink in a minit. I only wanted to look at him. I was _goin'_ to slink."
"Oh, never mind! Get on with the play!" moaned Mrs. de Vere Carter.
"But you've quite destroyed the _atmosphere_, William. You've spoilt the beautiful story. But hurry up, it's time for the grandmother's cottage scene now."
Not a word of William's speeches was audible in the next scene, but his attack on and consumption of the aged grandmother was one of the most realistic parts of the play, especially considering the fact that his arms were imprisoned.
"Not so roughly, William!" said the prompter in a sibilant whisper.
"Don't make so much noise. They can't hear a word anyone's saying."
At last William was clothed in the nightgown and nightcap and lying in the bed ready for little Red Riding-Hood's entrance. The combined effect of the rug and the head and the thought of Cuthbert had made him hotter and crosser than he ever remembered having felt before. He was conscious of a wild and unreasoning indignation against the world in general. Then Joan entered and began to pipe monotonously:
"Dear grandmamma, I've come with all quickness To comfort you and sooth your bed of sickness, Here are some little dainties I have brought To show you how we cherish you in our thought."
Here William wearily rose from his bed and made an unconvincing spring in her direction.
But on to the stage leapt Cuthbert once more, the vision in blue and white with golden curls shining and sword again drawn.
"Ha! evil beast----"
It was too much for William. The heat and discomfort of his attire, the sight of the hated Cuthbert already about to embrace _his_ Joan, goaded him to temporary madness. With a furious gesture he burst the pins which attached the dining-room hearth-rug to his person and freed his arms. He tore off the white nightgown. He sprang at the petrified Cuthbert--a small wild figure in a jersey suit and a wolf's head.
[Illustration: THE SIGHT OF THE HATED CUTHBERT ABOUT TO EMBRACE HIS JOAN GOADED WILLIAM TO TEMPORARY MADNESS.]
Mrs. de Vere Carter had filled Red Riding-Hood's basket with packages of simple groceries, which included, among other things, a paper bag of flour and a jar of jam.
William seized these wildly and hurled handfuls of flour at the prostrate, screaming Cuthbert. The stage was suddenly pandemonium. The other small actors promptly joined the battle. The prompter was too panic-stricken to lower the curtain. The air was white with clouds of flour. The victim scrambled to his feet and fled, a ghost-like figure, round the table.
"Take him off me," he yelled. "Take him _off_ me. Take William off me." His wailing was deafening.
The next second he was on the floor, with William on top of him.
William now varied the proceedings by emptying the jar of jam on to Cuthbert's face and hair.
They were separated at last by the prompter and stage manager, while the audience rose and cheered hysterically. But louder than the cheering rose the sound of Cuthbert's lamentation.
"He'th a nathty, rough boy! He puthed me down. He'th methed my nith clotheth. Boo-hoo!"