THE GIRL FROM THE KITCHEN--I'm the sixth assistant helper of the cook. THE TAILOR--The sixth? THE GIRL FROM THE KITCHEN--Yes, I clean the butter plates. THE TAILOR--And that's all you do? Just clean butter plates? How terrible! THE GIRL FROM THE KITCHEN--But it isn't. The cook says I'm the best butter dish cleaner in the world. I like butter. I like to touch it. There's no color in the world so beautiful. It's like that bit of cloth you have in your hands. THE TAILOR--You see the cloth? THE GIRL FROM THE KITCHEN--Of course I see it. Why, it's right there in your hands. And it's yellow like the butter. THE TAILOR--Or gold. (_He reaches into the bag again._) And what's this? (_He holds his right hand high above his head._) THE GIRL FROM THE KITCHEN--Why, it's a yellow rope. THE TAILOR--Yes, that's it, a rope. I'm going to give you the other piece of cloth now, and later the rope, too. You must guard it as carefully, as carefully as you would watch one of your butter dishes. Do you understand? THE GIRL--I wouldn't lose it. It's pretty. THE TAILOR--Yes, it's pretty and the world mustn't lose it. You will find that most people can't see. I know only two, you and I, but there must be others. That's your task now, finding people who can see the cloth and cleaning butter plates, of course. (_There is a loud pounding on the great door and a shout of "Open, in the King's name!" The knocking increases in violence and the command is repeated. Then men begin to swing against the door with heavy bars and hatchets._) THE TAILOR--Here (_he makes a gesture toward the girl_), take the cloth. Go quickly to the kitchen. Then come back in a moment and save the rope, too. THE GIRL FROM THE KITCHEN--But what do they want? THE TAILOR--They want to kill me. THE GIRL FROM THE KITCHEN--They mustn't. THE TAILOR--They won't if you get out and leave me alone. Here, hurry. (_He half pushes her out the little door. Then he returns to the bag and seems to pull out something. He looks to the ceiling and finds a hook fairly in the middle of it. He moves his hand upward as if tossing something, and goes through the motions of tying a knot around his neck. Then the Tailor takes a chair and moves it to the center of the room. He stands upon it. The violent assault upon the door begins with renewed vigor. Some of the axes bite through the wood. The Tailor steps off the chair and dangles in the air. He floats in space, like a man in a magic trick, but one or two in the audience, dramatic critics, perhaps, or scullery maids, may see that round his neck and fastened to the hook in the ceiling is a yellow rope._) (_Curtain._) Turning Thirty "Margaret Fuller's father was thirty-two when she was born," writes Katharine Anthony in her biography of the great feminist. "A self-made man, he had been obliged to postpone marriage and family life to a comparatively advanced age."