_The farm-place at Hegstad. In the background, the dwelling-house. A THRONG OF GUESTS. A lively dance in progress on the green. THE FIDDLER sits on a table. THE KITCHEN-MASTER[33] is standing in the doorway. COOKMAIDS are going to and fro between the different buildings. Groups of ELDERLY PEOPLE sit here and there, talking._ A WOMAN. [_Joins a group that is seated on some logs of wood._] The bride? Oh yes, she is crying a bit; But that, you know, isn’t worth heeding. THE KITCHEN-MASTER. [_In another group._] Now then, good folk, you must empty the barrel. A MAN. Thanks to you, friend; but you fill up too quick. A LAD. [_To the Fiddler, as he flies past, holding a Girl by the hand._] To it now, Guttorm, and don’t spare the fiddle-strings! THE GIRL. Scrape till it echoes out over the meadows! OTHER GIRLS. [_Standing in a ring round a lad who is dancing._] That’s a rare fling! A GIRL. He has legs that can lift him! THE LAD. [_Dancing._] The roof here is high,[34] and the walls wide asunder! THE BRIDEGROOM. [_Comes whimpering up to his FATHER, who is standing talking with some other men, and twitches his jacket._] Father, she will not; she is so proud! HIS FATHER. What won’t she do? THE BRIDEGROOM. She has locked herself in. HIS FATHER. Well, you must manage to find the key. THE BRIDEGROOM. I don’t know how. HIS FATHER. You’re a nincompoop! [_Turns away to the others. The BRIDEGROOM drifts across the yard._ A LAD. [_Comes from behind the house._] Wait a bit, girls! Things’ll soon be lively! Here comes Peer Gynt. THE SMITH. [_Who has just come up._] Who invited him? THE KITCHEN-MASTER. No one. [_Goes towards the house._ THE SMITH. [_To the girls._] If he should speak to you, never take notice! A GIRL. [_To the others._] No, we’ll pretend that we don’t even see him.