d he said it 'ud be
ready in 'bout twenty minutes. Didn't he, Bob?

BOB. And it was the best looking goose I ever saw, it was. It just
made me hungry to see him and to smell him baking.

BETTY. And it had sage and onion stuffing, mumsy, didn't it, Bob?

MRS. CRATCHIT. I'm sure there never was such a goose before, and I'm
sure there never will be such a goose again. How's the 'taters, Peter?

PETER (_looks in kettle_). Boilin', mammy, boilin'.

BOB. Oh, Peter's got on pa's shirt collar, he has. Peter's got on pa's
shirt collar.

PETER. If I didn't have to mind these 'taters, I'd show you!

MRS. CRATCHIT. I can't think what's keeping your father, and your
brother Tiny Tim. And Martha wasn't as late last Christmas Day by half
an hour.

_Enter_ MARTHA _from R._

MARTHA. Here's Martha, mumsy.

BOB (_dragging her down to Mrs. Cratchit_). Here's Martha, mumsy.

BETTY. Oh, Martha, there's such a goose! Isn't there, Bob?

MRS. CRATCHIT (_hugging and kissing_ MARTHA). Why, bless your heart
alive, my dear, how late you are! (_Takes off her bonnet and shawl._)

MARTHA. We'd a deal of work to finish up last night. I was on my feet
all day. Oh, why won't people learn to do their Christmas shopping
early. If they'd only stop to give a moment's thought to the poor
clerks.

MRS. CRATCHIT. There, there, my dear, sit ye down. Here's the big
chair, Martha. (BOB _has been sitting in the big chair at R., but_
MRS. CRATCHIT _simply turns it forward, letting_ BOB _slip to the
floor, and seats_ MARTHA _therein._) Well, never mind, as long as
you're home at last, Martha. Draw your chair up to the fire and have a
warm. God bless you. How's the 'taters, Pete?

PETER (_looking in kettle_). Boilin', mammy, boilin'.

MARTHA (_sitting in front of the fire_). Oh, mumsy, ain't this
Heavenly? Be it ever so humble there's no place like home.

BETTY (_at door R._). Father's coming, father's coming.

BOB. Hide yourself, Martha. Here, here. (_Pulls her to L._)

BETTY (_helping her_). Hurry up. Hide, hide! (_Exit_ MARTHA _at L._)

_Bright music. Enter_ CRATCHIT _carrying_ TINY TIM _on his shoulder._
TINY TIM _carries a little crutch._

CRATCHIT (_down C._). Why, where's our Martha?

MRS. CRATCHIT (_down L._). Not coming.

CRATCHIT. Not coming? Not coming--on Christmas Day?

MARTHA (_rushing in from L._). No, father, it's only a joke. Here I
am, father, here I am. (_Rushes into his arms._)

BETTY (_taking Tiny Tim_). Come on, Tin