JUNIOR. (_beginning before she enters with a Chaucer in her hand_) "Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote"--I came much more quickly than I'll ever get that old stuff in my head. (_she throws the book down_) SENIOR. Don't you like Chaucer? We just loved him. JUNIOR. So do all the rest of our class except me. I just can't get him into my head. SOPHOMORE. Poor thing! I should hope not. SENIOR. What would you like to eat at the Thanksgiving spread? JUNIOR. Eat! Everything you're going to have. (_suspiciously_) This isn't one of those stupid puns on _Chaucer_ is it? SOPHOMORE. I should say not. FRESHMAN. We are helping make out the menu. There's Welsh rarebit and chocolate _eclaires_ already. JUNIOR. Have you any angel food? SOPHOMORE. Oysters! FRESHMAN. Fudge! SENIOR. And olives. Quick, give me a pencil so I can write it down. (_goes to table and writes_) JUNIOR. Hurry, before the bell rings. That's much more fun to talk about than Chaucer. I'm glad I didn't live in his day. Imagine being praised for not putting your fingers in the gravy and spotting up your shirt front! I wager that old Prioress was a stick. I shouldn't want her on our basket ball team. There isn't a sensible woman in the whole of Chaucer so far as I can see. (_the curtain at the front of the bookcase begins to shake slightly, becoming more violent as the_ JUNIOR _continues_) The Wife of Bath was a regular Mormon, five husbands, that's what she had, and she wore red stockings. Such taste! SENIOR. (_rises and goes to_ JUNIOR) Laurine, don't talk so much. Come help us decide between dill pickle and strawberry jam, we can't have both. SOPHOMORE. Laurine can't help talking. Her whole class does it. JUNIOR. And what about your class, Miss? And the angelic Seniors? They never talk, do they. Thank Goodness, we're not like that old patient Griselda in Chaucer. She was afraid to open her head. FRESHMAN. I think you know a lot about Chaucer. I never will remember all those names. JUNIOR. Oh, there are a lot more of them. One was a silly girl named Emily. She didn't do anything but have "hair a yard long I guess" and for that she had two lovers. I am going to get a hair tonic. That's how silly men were in Chaucer's day, before they learned how to play football, or had fraternities. SOPHOMORE. Oh, girls, if you had only seen the hero in the matinee yesterday. He was simply grand! And he had such pretty curly hair. (_The bell rings_.) SENIOR. I know I could think of lots more things to eat if I only had more time. SOPHOMORE. Well, come on, I have to go to History. (_she starts out_) FRESHMAN. Wait for me. (_Exeunt_ SENIOR, SOPHOMORE _and_ FRESHMAN.) JUNIOR. Here's where I die. Where's that hateful book? It won't do any good to lose it, there are a dozen more copies in the bookcase. (_sings_)