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If 1914 

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A Sunny Morning 

French's International Copyrighted (in England, hee 

Colonies, and the United States) Edition of 

THE Works of the Best Authors. 

No. 711 I 





BY 2 




ted from the Spanish by Lucre tia Xavier Floyd «y 

Arranged fo r The Civic Repertory Theatre, New York, |J 

by John Garrett Underhill jg 


All Rights Reserved X 

dfessionals and amateurs are hereby warned that X 

"A SLNNY MORNING," being fully protected under the copy- X 

right laws of the I'nited States of America, the British Empire, X 

including the Dominion of Canada, and the other countries of X 

the Copyright Union, is subject to a royalty, and anyone pre- X 

senting the play without the consent of the owners or their X 

authoi ized agents will be liable to the penalties by law pro- ^ 

vided. Applications for the acting rights must be made to j^ 

Samue- French, at 25 West 45th Street, New York City, o- at 5 

811 West 7th Street, Los Angeles, Ca'if. 2 

PRICE, 30 CEl^ TS 


25 West 45th Street, New York, N. ^ . 

811 West 7th Street, Los Angeles, Calif. 


26 Southampton Street, Strand, W.C.2, London 


#arce in 2 acti. Bj Leo Ditrichstein. 7 maleSj, ? ^ 
>lia]«a. Modem tostumes. Plays 2H hours 1 interioT 

••Are Tou » Mason !** is one of those deliglitful farces lilt 
'Charley'* Aunt" that are always fresh. "A mother and a 
Janghter," says the critic of the New York Herald, "had hui* 
1»ands who account for absences from the joint household m. 
jfrequent evenings, falsely pretending to be Masons. The mea 
io not know te^ch other's duplicity, and each tells his wife ® 
kaving advanced to leadership in his lodge. The older womasi 
Tas so well pleased with her husband's supposed distinction ^r- 
the order that she made him promise to put up the name of f 
Tisiting friend for membership. Further perplexity over tki 
principal liar arose when a suitor for his second daughter's han^» 
proved to be a real Mason. , . To tell the story of the pla 
vould require volumes, its complications are so numerous. It ii 
ji house of cards. One card wrongly placed and the whole thinf- 
Tirould collapse. But it stands, an example of remarkable iiL 
fenuity. You wonder at the end of the first act how the fuo 
3an be kept up on such a slender foundation. But it continuec 
*nd grows to the last curtain " One of the most hilarioush 
amusing farces ever written especially suited to schools an^ 
Wajionic LfOdgea (Royalty, twenty-fiv*> dollars ^ T'ice 7s^ Oen«N< 


A delightful comedy in 3 actSc By :^c C Nugein <»nc 
Elliott Nugentc 4 males, 4 femaleSo I interior throughou'i 
(Costumes, modern^ Plays 2% hoursc 

No wonder "Kempy" has been such a tremendous hit m ^%% 
i^orkj Chicago — -wherever it has played. It snaps with wit an'i 
°lumor of the most delightful kind. It's electric^ It's "^mall 
Oown folk perfectlr pictured. Full of types of varied sorts, eacl« 
9iie done to & turn and served with zestful sauce An idea 
»atertainment for amusement purposes. The story is about a higli 
&latin' daughter who in a fit of pique marries the young plumbef 
^Architect, who come" to fix the water pipes, just because hi 
* 'understands" he Aaving read her book and having sworn t<{ 
marry the authoress. But in that story lies all the humor th»».- 
cept the audience laughing every second of every act. Of courses 
ihere are lots of ramifications, each of which bears its own bran4 
d laughter-making potentials. But the plot and the story aiv? 
jot the main things. There is, for instance, the work of ths 
company. The fun growing out of this family mizup is lively anl 
slean ^Royalty, twenty-five dollars^ Price, 75 CestL, 

SAMinSL FRENCH, 2ft vVest 46tli Street, New York City 
New and Explicit Deecrtptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Beanest 

A Sunny Morning 


IN ONE ACT \ ;• '.. • . 



Translated from the Spanish by Lucrctia Xavier Floyd 

Arranged for The Civic Repertory Theatre, New York, 
by John Garrett Underhill 

Copyright, 1914, by Lucretia Xavier Floyd 

All Rights Reserved 

CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that 
"A SUNNY MORNING," being fully protected under the copy- 
right laws of the United States of America, the British Empire, 
including the Dominion of Canada, and the other countries of 
the Copyright Union, is subject to a royalty, and anyone pre- 
senting the play without the consent of the owners or their 
authorized agents will be liable to the penalties by law pro- 
vided. Applications for the acting rights must be made to 
Samuel French, at 25 West 45th Street, New York City, or at 
811 West 7th Street, Los Angeles, Calif. 


25 West 4.jth Street, New York, N. Y. 

811 West Ttii Street, Los Angeles, Calif. 


26 Southampton Street, Strand, W.C.2, London 


Especial notice should be taken that the possession of this 
book without a valid contract for production first having 
been obtained from the publisher confers no right or license 

,'t^ prof'^ssipR^fs'Or amateurs to produce the play publicly or 

*4n priva'te for/ ga'in' or charity. 

;• tJAa'tVlpr^esept/^Corrn^ this play is dedicated to the reading 
public bnYy; 'and Vo' 'performance, representation, production, 
recitation, public reading or radio broadcasting may be given 
except by special arrangement with Samuel French, at 25 
West 45th Street, New York, or at 811 West 7th Street, Los 
Angeles, Calif. 

This play may be presented by amateurs upon payment of 
a royalty of Ten Dollars for each performance, payable to 
Samuel French, at 25 West 45th Street, New York, or at 811 
West 7th Street, Los Angeles, Calif., one week before the 
date when the play is given. 

Professional royalty quoted on application to Samuel 
French, at 25 West 45th Street, New York, or at 811 West 
7th Street, Los Angeles, Calif. 

Whenever the play is produced the following notice must 
appear on all programs, printing and advertising for the 
play : "Produced by special arrangement with Samuel French." 

Attention is called to the penalty provided by law for any 
infringement of the author's rights, as lollows: 

"Section 4966 : — Any person publicly performing or repre- 
senting any dramatic or musical composition for which copy- 
right has been obtained, without the consent of the proprietor 
of said dramatic or musical composition, or his heirs and 
assigns, shall be liable for damages thereof, such damages in 
all cases, to be assessed at such sum, not less than one hun- 
dred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for every subse- 
quent performance, as to the court shall appear to be just. 
If the unlawful performance and representation be wilful and 
for profit, such person or persons shall be guilty of a mis- 
demeanor, and upon conviction shall be imprisoned for a 
period not exceeding one year." — U. S. Revised Statutes : 
Title 60, Chap. 3. 

Printed in the United States of America b^/ 
The Richmond Hill Record. Richmond Hill. N. Y. 

Program of "A SUNNY MORNING," as produced by 
The Civic Repertory Theatre, April 13, 1929 : 

(Eva Le Gallienne, Director) 



A One Act Play 



Translated from the Spanish by Lucretia Xavier Floyd 

Arranged for The Civic Repertory Theatre by 
John Garrett Underbill 


DoxA Laura Ei'a Le Gallienne 

Petra, her maid Josephine Hutchinson 

Don Gonzalo Egon Brecher 

JuANiTO, Jiis scri'aiit Robert Ross 

Scene : ^i retired corher in a Park in Madrid. 

Time : The present. 

^ioyaity on this play payable tu ou^ 
Los AnireleB O&ce 


f<Ni Arts Bldo.. 811 West ?th 8'fi»fei?f 

ttUfttflM VAMOIKK 6684 Uoe ANOKt^KJp. GA i I ' 


A Sunny Morning 

Scene : A sunny morning in a retired corner of a 
park in Madrid. Autumn. A bench at Right. 
DoxA Laura, a handsome, white-haired old 
lady of about seventy, refined in appearance, her 
bright eyes and entire manner giving evidence 
that despite her age her mental faculties are 
iimmpaircd, enters leaning upon the arm of her 
maid, Petra. In her free hand she carries a 
parasol, which serves also as a cane. 

DoxA Laura. I am so glad to be here. I feared 
my seat would be occupied. What a beautiful morn- 
ing ! 

Petra. The sun is hot. 

DoxA Laura. Yes, you are only twenty. (She sits 
dozvn on the bench.) Oh, I feel more tired today 
than usual. (Noticing Petra, ivho seems impatient) 
Go, if you wish to chat with your guard. 

Petra. He is not mine, sefiora; he belongs to the 

DoxA Laura. He belongs more to you than he 
does to the park. Go find him, but remain within 
calling distance. 

Petra. I see him over there waiting for me. 

DoxA Laura. Do not remain more than ten min- 

Petra. Very well, sefiora. (Walks toward R.) 

DoxA Laura. Wait a moment. 


Petra. What does the senora wish ? 

Dona Laura. Give me the l)read crumbs. 

Petra. I don't know what is the matter with me. 

DoxXA Laura. (Smiling) I do. Your head is 
where your heart is — with the guard. 

Petra. Here, senora. (SJic hands Doxa Laura a 
small bag. Exit Petra by R.j 

Dona Laura. Adios. (Glances tozvard trees at r.) 
Here they comc^.l/They know just when to expect 
me. (She rises, zmlks tozuard r., and throzvs three 
handfuls of bread crumbs) These are for the spry- 
est, these for the gluttons, and these for the httle 
ones which are the most persistent. (Laughs. She 
returns to licr seat and watclies, zvith a pleased ex- 
pression, the pigeons feeding) There, that big oae 
is always lirst ! I know him by his big head. Now 

one, now another, now two, now three That 

little fellow is the least timid. I believe he would 
eat from my hand. That one takes his piece and 
flies up to that branch alone. He is a philosopher. 
But where do they all come from? It seems as if 
the news had spread. Ha, ha ! Don't quarrel. There 
is enough for all. I'll bring more tomorrow. 

(Enter Don Gonzalo and Juanito from l.c. Don 
GoNZALO. is an old gentleman of seventy, gouty 
and impatient. He leans upon Juanito's arm 
and drags his feet soniezuJiat as lie zvalks.) 

Don Gonzalo. Idling their time away ! They 
should be saying mass. 

Juanito. You can sit here, senor. There is only 
a lady. (Dona Lautja turns her head and listens.) 

Don Gonzalo. I won't, Juanito. I want a bench 
to myself. 

Juanito. But there is none. 

Don Gonzalo. That one over there is mine. 

Juanito. There are three priests sitting there. 


Don Gonzalo. Rout them out. Have they gone? 

JuANiTO. No, indeed. They are talking. 

Don Gonzalo. Just as if they were gkied to the 
seat. No hope of their leaving. Come this way, 
Juanito. (They zvulk tozmrd the birds, Right.) 

DoxA Laura. (Indignantly) Look out ! 

Don Gonzalo. Are you speaking to me, seiiora? 

DoxA Laura. Yes, to you. 

Don Gonzalo. What do you wish? 

DoxA Laura. You have scared away the birds 
who were feeding on my crumbs. 

Don Gonzalo. What do I care about the birds? 

DoxA Laura. But I do. 

Don Gonzalo. This is a public park. 

Dona Laura. Then why do you complain that the 
priests have taken your bench? 

Don Gox'zalo. Sefiora, we have not met. 1 cannot 
imagine why you take the liberty of addressing me. 
Come, Juanito. (Both go out r.) 

Doxa Laura. What an ill-natured old man ! Why 
must people get so fussy and cross when they reach 
a certain age? (Looking toward R.j I am glad. He 
lost that bench, too. Serves him right for scaring 
the birds. He is furious. Yes, yes ; find a seat if 
you can. Poor man ! He is wiping the perspiration 
from his face. Here he comes. A carriage would 
not raise more dust than his feet. (Enter Don Gon- 
zalo and Juanito by r. and walk tozvavd l. j 

Don Gonzalo. Have the priests gone yet, Juanito ? 

Juanito. No, indeed, seiior. They are still there. 

Don Gonzalo. The authorities should place more 
benches here for these sunny mornings. Well, I sup- 
pose I must resign myself and sit on the bench with 
the old lady. (Muttering to himself, he sits at the 
extreme end of Dona Laura's bench and looks at 
her indignantly. Touches his hat as he greets her) 
Good morning. 

Doxa Laura. What, you here again ? 


Don Gonzalo. I repeat that wc have not met. 

Dona Laura. I was responding to your salute. 

Don Gonzalo. "Good morning" should be an- 
swered by "good morning," and that is all you 
should have said. 

DoxA Laura. You should have asked permission 
to sit on this bench, which is mine. 

Don Gonzalo. The benches here are public prop- 

Dona Laura. Why, you said the one the priests 
have was yours. 

Don Gonzalo. Very well, very well. I have 
nothing more to say. (Between Jiis teeth) Senile old 
lady ! She ought to be at home knitting and counting 
her beads. 

Dona Laura. Don't grumble any more. I'm not 
going to leave just to please you. 

Don Gonzalo. (Brushing tJic duct from Jiis shoes 
with his handkerchief) If the ground were sprinkled 
a little it would be an improvement. 

Dona Laura. Do you use your handkerchief as a 
shoe brush? 

Don Gonzalo. Why not? 

Dona Laura. Do you use a shoe brush as a hand- 
kerchief ? 

Don Gonzalo. What right have you to criticize 
my actions? 

Dona Laura. A neighbor's right. 

Don Gonzalo. Juanito, m}^ book. I do not care 
to listen to nonsense. 

Dona Laura. You are very polite. 

Don Gonzalo. Pardon me, ccnora, but never in- 
terfere with what does not concern you. 

Dona Laura. I generally say what I think. 

Don Gonzalo. And more to the same effect. 
Give me the book, Juanito. 

Juanito. Here, senor. (Juanito takes a hook 
from his pocket, hands it to Don Gonzalo, then 


exits by R. Don Gonzalo, casting indignant glances 
at Dona Laura, puts on an enormous pair of 
glasses, takes from his pocket a reading-glass, ad- 
justs both to suit him, and opens his hook.) 

Dona Laura. I thought you were taking out a 

Don Gonzalo. Was that you? 

Dona Laura. Your sight must be keen. 

Don Gonzalo. Keener than yours is. — 

Dona Laura. Yes, evidently. 

Don Gonzalo. Ask the hares and partridges. 

Dona Laura. Ah ! Do you hunt ? 

Don Gonzalo. I did, and even now 

Dona Laura. Oh, yes, of course ! 

Don Gonzalo. Yes, sefiora. Every Sunday I take 
my gun and dog, you understand, and go to one of 
my estates near Aravaca and kill time. 

Dona Laura. Yes, kill time. That is all you kill. 

Don Gonzalo. Do you think so? I could show 
you a wild boar's head in my study 

Dona Laura. Yes, and I could show you a tiger's 
skin in my boudoir. What does that prove? 

Don Gonzalo. Very well, senora, please allow 
me to read. Enough conversation. 

Dona Laura. Well, you subside, then. 

Don Gonzalo. But first I shall take a pinch of 
snuff. (Takes out snuff box) Will you have some? 
(Offers box to Dona Laura. J 

Dona Laura. If it is good. 

Don Gonzalo. It is of the finest. You will like it. 

Dona Laura. (Taking pinch of snuff) It clears 
my head. 

Don Gonzalo. And mine. 

Dona Laura. Do you sneeze ? 

Don Gonzalo. Yes, senora, three times. 

Dona Laura. And so do I. What a coincidence! 
(After taking the snuff, they azvait tJie sneezes, both f(^{j^ 
anxiously, and sneeze alternately three times each.) ,. /,. 


Don Gonzalo. There, I feel l)etter. 

Dona Laura. So do I. (Aside) The snuff has 
made peace between us. 

Don Gonzalo. You will excuse me if I read 
aloud ? 

Dona Laura. Read as loud as you please ; you will 
not disturb me. 

Don Gonzalo. (Reading) "All love is sad, but 
sad as it is, it is the best thing that we know." That 
is from Campoamor. 

Dona Laura. Ah! 

Don Gonzalo. (Reading) "The daughters of 
the mothers I once loved kiss me now as they would 
a graven image." Those lines, I take it, are in a 
humorous vein. 

Dona Laura. (Laughing) I take them so, too. 

Don Gonzalo. There are some beautiful poems 
in this book. Here. "Twenty years pass. He re- 

Dona Laura. You cannot imagine how it affects 
me to see you reading with all those glasses. 

Don Gonzalo. Can you read without any? 

Dona Laura. Certainly. 

Don Gonzalo. At your age? You're jesting. 

Dona Laura. Pass me the book, then. (Takes 
]njj^\ book; reads aloud) 
,. ',; ■'■'- "Twenty years pass. He returns. 

And each, beholding the other, exclaims — 
Can it be that this is he ? 
Heavens, is it she?" 
(Dona Laura returns the hook to Don Gonzalo. j 

Don Gonzalo. Indeed, I envy you your wonder- 
ful eyesight. 

Dona Laura, (Aside) I know every word by 

Don Gonzalo. I am very fond of good verses, 
very fond. I even composed some in my youth. 

Dona Laura. Good ones? 

"A Sunny Morning" 

See Page 7 


Don Gonzalo. Of all kinds. I was a great friend 
of Espronceda/Zorrilla, Becquer, and others. 1 first 
met Zorrilla in America. 

Dona Laura. Why, have you been in America? 

Don Gonzalo. Several times. The first time I 
went I was only six years old. 

Dona Laura. You must have gone with Colum- 
bus in one of his caravels ! 

Don Gonzalo. (Laughing) Not quite as bad as 
that. I am old, I admit, but I did not know Ferdi- 
nand and Isabella. (TJiey both laugh.) I was also a 
great friend of Campoamor. I met him in Valencia. 
I am a native of that city. 

Dona Laura. You are? 

Don Gonzalo. I was brought up there and there I 
spent my early youth. Have you ever visited that 

Dona Laura. Yes, senor. Not far from Valencia 
there was a villa that, if still there, should retain 
memories of me. I spent several seasons there. It 
was many, many years ago. It was near the sea, 
hidden away among lemon and orange trees. They 
called it — let me see, what did they call it — Maricela. 

Don Gonzalo. (Startled) Maricela? 

Dona Laura. Alaricela. Is the name familiar to 

Don Gonzalo. Yes, very familiar. If my mem- 
ory serves me right, for we forget as we grow old, 
there lived in that villa the most beautiful woman I 
have ever seen, and I assure you I have seen many. 
Let me see — what was her name? Laura — Laura — 
Laura Llorente. 

Dona Laura. (Startled) Laura Llorente ? 

Don Gonzalo. Yes. (They look at each other 

Dona Laura. (Recovering herself) Nothing. 
You reminded me of my best friend. 



Don Gonzalo. How strange ! 

Dona Laura. It is strange. She was called "The 
Silver Maiden." 

Don Gonzalo. Precisely, **The Silver Maiden." 
By that name she was known in that locality. I 
seem to see her as if she were before me now, at 
that window with the red roses. Do you remember 
that window? 

DoxA Laura. Yes, I remember. It was the win- 
dow of her room. 

Don Gonzalo. She spent many hours there. I 
mean in my day. 
^ Dona Laura. (Sighing) And in mine. too. 

Don Gonzalo. She was ideal. Fair as a lily, jet 
black hair and black eyes, with an uncommonly sweet 
expression. She seemed to cast a radiance wherever 
she was. Her figure was beautiful, perfect. "What 
forms of sovereign beauty God models in human 
clay !" She was a dream. 

Dona Laura. (Aside) If you but knew that 
dream was now by your side, you would realize 
what dreams come to. (Aloud) She was very un- 
fortunate and had a sad love afifair. 

Don Gonzalo. Very sad. (TJiey look at each 

Dona Laura. Did you hear of it ? 

Don Gonzalo. Yes. 

DoxA Laura. The ways of Providence are strange. 
(Aside) Gonzalo! 

Don Gonzalo. The gallant lover, in the same af- 

Dona Laura. Ah, the duel? 

Don Gonzalo. Precisely, the duel. The gallant 
lover was — my cousin, of whom I was very fond. 

DoxA Laura. Oh, yes, a cousin? ?^Iy friend 
told me in one of her letters the story of that afifair, 
which was truly romantic. He, your cousin, passed 


by on horseback every morning down the rose path 
under her window, and tossed up to her balcony a 
bouquet of flowers which she caught. 

Don Gonzalo. And later in the afternoon the gal- 
lant horseman would return by the same path, and 
catch the bouquet of flowers she would toss him. 
Am I right? 

DoxA Laura. Yes. They wanted to marry her to 
a merchant whom she would not have. 

Don Gonzalo. And one night, when my cousin 
waited under her window to hear her sing, this other 
person presented himself unexpectedly. 

Doxa Laura. And insulted your cousin. 

Don Gonzalo. There was a quarrel. 

Doxa Laura. And later a duel. 

Don Gonzalo. Yes, at sunrise, on the beach, and 
the merchant was badly wounded. My cousin had 
to conceal himself for a few days and later to fly. 

Doxa Laura. You seem to know the story well. 

Don Gonzalo. And so do you. 

Doxa Laura. I have explained that a friend re- 
peated it to me. 

Don Gonzalo. As my cousin did to me. (Aside) 
This is Laura ! 

Doxa Laura. (Aside) Why tell him? He does 
not suspect. 

Don Gonzalo. (Aside) She is entirely innocent. 

Doxa Laura. And was it you, by any chance, 
who advised your cousin to forget Laura? 

Don Gonzalo. Why, my cousin never forgot her! 

Doxa Laura. How do you account, then, for his 
conduct ? 

Don Gonzalo. I will tell you. The young man 
took refuge in my house, fearful of the consequences 
of a duel with a person highly regarded in that lo- 
cality. From my home he went to Seville, then came 
to Madrid. He wrote Laura many letters, some of 

14 f 


them in verse . But undou1)te(lly they were inter- 
cepted by her parents, for she never answered at all. 
Gonzalo then, in despair, believing his love lost to 
him forever, joined the army, went to Africa, and 
there, in a trench, met a glorious death, grasping 
the flag of Spain and whispering the name of his 
beloved Laura 

DoxA Laura. (Aside) What an atrocious lie ! 

Don Gonzalo. (Aside) I could not have killed 
myself more gloriously. 

DoxA Laura. You must have been prostrated by 
the calamity. 

Don Gonzalo. Yes, indeed, senora. As if he 
were my brother. I presume, though, on the con- 
trary, that Laura in a short time was chasing butter- 
flies in her garden, indifferent to regret. 

DoxA Laura. No, senor, no ! 

Don Gonzalo. It is woman's way. 

DoxA Laura. Even if it were woman's way, **The 
Silver Maiden" was not of that disposition. My 
friend awaited news for days, months, a year, and 
no letter came. One afternoon, just at sunset, as the 
first stars were appearing, she was seen to leave the 
house, and with quickening steps wend her way 
toward the beach, the beach where her beloved had 
risked his life. She wrote his name on the sand, 
then sat down upon a rock, her gaze fixed upon the 
horizon. The waves murmured their eternal thren- 
ody and slowly crept up to the rock where the maiden 
sat. The tide rose with a boom and swept her out 
to sea. 

Don Gonzalo. Good heavens ! 

DoxA Laura. The fishermen of that shore who 
often tell the story affirm that it was a long time be- 
fore the waves washed away that name written on 
the sand. (Aside) You will not get ahead of me in 
decorating my own funeral. 


Don Gonzalo. (Aside) She lies worse than I do. 

Dona Laura. Poor Laura ! 

Don Gonzalo. Poor Gonzalo ! 

Dona Laura. (Aside) I will not tell him that I 
married two years later. 

Don Gonzalo. (Aside) In three months I ran 
off to Paris with a ballet dancer. 

Dona Laura. Fate is curious. Here are you and 
I, complete strangers, met by chance, discussing the 
romance of old friends of long ago ! We have been 
conversing as if we were old friends. 

Don Gonzalo. Yes, it is curious, considering the 
ill-natured prelude to our conversation. 

Dona Laura. You scared away the birds. 

Don Gonzalo. I was unreasonable, perhaps. 

Dona Laura. Yes, that was evident. (Szveetly) 
Are you coming again tomorrow ? 

Don Gonzalo. Most certainly, if it is a sunny 
morning. And not only will I not scare away the 
birds, but I will ])ring a few crumbs. 

Dona Laura. Thank you very much. Birds are 
grateful and repay attention. I wonder where my 
maid is? Petra ! (Signals for her maid.) 

Don Gonzalo. (Aside, looking at Laura, whose 
back is turned) No, no, I will not reveal myself. I 
am grotesque now. Better that she recall the gallant 
horseman who passed daily beneath her window toss- 
ing flowers. 

Dona Laura. Here she comes. 

Don Gonzalo. That Juanito! He plays havoc 
with the nursemaids. (Looks r. and signals ivith his 

Dona Laura. (Aside, looking at Gonzalo. whose 
back is turned) No, I am too sadly changed. It is 
better he should remember me as the black-eyed girl 
tossing flowers as he passed among the roses in the 
garden. (Juanito enters by r., Petra by l. She has 
a bunch of violets in her hand.) 


Dona Laura. Wdk-^Petcial^ALlast! 

Don Gonzalo. Juanito, you are late. 

Petra. (To Dona Laura; The guard gave me 
these violets for you, sefiora, 

Doxa Laura. How very nice ! Thank him inr me. 
They are fragrant. (As she takes the violets jyom 
her maid a few loose ones fall to the ground.) 

Don Gonzalo. My dear lady, this has been a 
great honor and a great pleasure. 

Dona Laura. It has also been a pleasure to me. 

Don Gonzalo. Goodbye until tomorrow. 

Dona Laura. Until tomorrow. 

Don Gonzalo. If it is sunny. 

Dona Laura. A sunny morning. \M11 you go to 
your bench? 

Don Gonzalo. No, I will come to this — if you do 
not object? 

Dona Laura. This bench is at your disposal. 

Don Gonzalo. And I will surely bring the 

Dona Laura. Tomorrow, then? 

Don Gonzalo. Tomorrow ! 

(Laura walks away toivard r., supported by her 
Maid. Gonzalo, before leazmg with Juanito, 
trembling and wnth a great effort, stoops to pick 
up the violets Laura dropped. Just then Laura 
turns her head and surprises him picking up the 

Juanito. What are you doing, senor? 

Don Gonzalo. Juanito, wait 

Dona Laura. (Aside) Yes, it is he! 
Don Gonzalo. (.Iside) It is she, and no mistake. 
(Dona Laura and Don Gonzalo wave farewell.) 
Dona Laura. "Can it be that this is he?" 
Don Gonzalo. "Heavens, is it she?" (They smile 


once more, as if she were again at the windozv and 
he belozv in the rose garden, and then disappear upon 
the arms of their servants.) 



"A Sunny Morning," the most popular of the 
shorter Quintero plays, is especially adapted to 
Amateur and Little Theatre production. Few light 
comedies have been so successful internationally, 
whether presented in Spanish, Italian, English, 
French or German. 

"A Sunny Morning" has been a feature in Eva 
Le Gallienne's repertory since the season of 1928- 
1929. With Miss Alice Lewisohn as Doua Laura, 
it was a favorite during several seasons at the 
Neighborhood Playhouse, New York City. Among 
other performances, those of the Amateur Comedy 
Club, New York, and the Toy Theatre, Boston, de- 
serve mention. The foreign productions are num- 
berless. With the exception of Miss Jane Cowl's 
**]\lalvaloca," offered under the auspices of the Act- 
ors' Theatre, "A Sunny Morning" is the only .one 
of the more widely known Quintero plays to be acted 
in English. 


Z 2 


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A charming comedy in 3 acts. Adapted by A. E. Thomas 
from the story of the same name by Alice Duer Miller. 
6 males, 5 females. 3 interior scenes. Costumes, modern. 
Plays 214 hours. 

The story of "Come Out of the Kitchen" is written around a 
Virginia family of the old aristocracy, by the name of Dainger- 
field, who, finding themselves temporarily embarrassed, decide to 
rent their magnificent home to a rich Yankee. One of the con- 
ditions of the lease by the Avell-to-do New Englander stipulates 
that a competent staff of white servants should be engaged for 
his sojourn at the stately home. This servant question presents 
practically insurmountable difficulties, and one of the daughters 
of the family conceives the mad-cap idea that she, her sister and 
their two brothers shall act as the domestic staff for the wealthy 
Yankee. Olivia Daingerfield, who is the ringleader in the merry 
scheme, adopts the cognomen of Jane Allen, and elects to preside 
over the destinies of the kitchen. Her sister, Elizabeth, is ap- 
pointed housemaid. Her elder brother, Paul, is the butler, and 
Charley, the youngest of the group, is appointed to the position of 
bootboy. When Burton Crane arrives from the North, accom- 
panied by Mrs. Faulkner, her daughter, and Crane's attorney, 
Tucker, they find the staff of servants to possess so many methods 
of behavior out of the ordinary that amusing complications begin 
to arise immediately. Olivia's charm and beauty impress Crane 
above everything else, and the merry story continues through a 
maze of delightful incidents until the real identity of the heroine 
is finally disclosed. But not until Crane has professed his love 
for his charming cook, and the play ends with the brightest 
prospects of happiness for these two young people. "Come Out 
of the Kitchen," with Ruth Chatterton in the leading role, made 
B notable success on its production by Henry Miller at the Cohan 
Theatre, New York. It was also a great success at the Strand 
Theatre, London, A most ingenious and entertaining comedy, 
and we strongly recommend it for amateur production. (Royalty, 
twenty-five dollars.) Price, 75 Cents. 


Play in 4 acts. By Paul Armstrong and Eex Beach. 
12 males, 4 females. 2 exteriors, 1 interior. Costumes, 
modern and cowboy. Plays a full evening. 

Described by the authors as the "chronicle of a certain lot of 
college men and girls, with a tragic strain of phonogi-aph and 
cowboys." A rollicking good story, full of action, atmosphere, 
comedy and drama, redolent of the adventurous spirit of youth. 
(Royalty, twenty-five dollars.) Price, 75 Cents. 

SAMUEL FRENCH, 25 West 45th Street, New York City 
Vew and "toplicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request 


eomtdj ki 3 aots. Bj Maif Kennedy iBind Buth 
\|l»rn«. 6 males, 6 feinaleSo Modern costumes 2 interiom 

flay 8 2^ hcHTBo 

The characters, scenes and situations are thoroughly ap=«© 
M^e in this altogether delightful American comedy The hero.imc 
!]iS ft woman of tremendous energy, who manages a business— *l- 
rfii« manages everything — with great success^ and at home pr.f 
(DMsb over the destinies of a growing son and daughter. Hes. 
Ofeiaggle to give the children the opportunities she herselt &&« 
oESssed, and the children's ultimate revolt against her well-measi- 
aiaaagement — that is the basis of the plot. The son who it c:&s 
^Mi the part of artist and the daughter who is to go on the staff 
3)SFer numerous opportunities for the development of nhf^ iot: • 
iiKDSsihilities in the themOc 

The play is one of the most delightful, yet thoughtprovoiii: j 
:^iiaaerican comedies of recent years^ and is warmly recommen a<=^ c 
(fe all amateur groups (Royalty on application,) Price 75 ''^r-^ 

:n the next room 

Melodrama ii> 3 acts. By Eleanor RobsoD and Hanu.*' 
ifmd. 8 maleSj 3 femalea 2 interiors Modern costunie^' 

i?llayg 2% hours 

'"Philir Vantinf has bought a rare copy of an original BtM 
'^ii:.aet and ordered it shipped tc hie New York home from Pa^tt 
VixBB St arrives it is found to> be the original itself, the p(is 
r8,(g§ioD of whifb 18 desired by many strange people^ Before IL«i 
■>-*si'^->- ■ oncerned with the cabinet's shipment can be cleaf^> 
!.]$> twr persons meet mysterious death fooling with it and ';5 
jappinesft of many otherwise happy actors is threatened' (Bum 
lIsmMe) A first-rate mystery play, comprising all the elemeti 
•5 siiiispense; curiosity^ comedy and drama. "In the Next Roon 
'. |iiiil46 easy tc stage. It can be unreservedly recommended ^ 
agj. j^ioolft ftnd eoUegnic. (Boyaltyc twenty-five dol^&i^J 

SAMITEL FRENCH, tS West 45th Street. New York City 
New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Bequest 


LrD 2 1-5 Or 





/ York City 

Manufaelund by 


Syracuse, N. Y. 

Ci.ockton, Calif.