DAISY. (Stiffly) Well, I ain’t going to marry no man that ain’t going to work and take care of me. JIM. I don’t mind working if de job ain’t too heavy for me. I ain’t going to bother wid nothin’ in my hands heavier than dis box ... and I totes it round my neck ’most of de time. (DAISY makes a despairing gesture as JIM takes a step or two away from her. She turns to DAVE finally.) DAISY. Well, I reckon you loves me the best anyhow. You wouldn’t talk to me like Jim did, would you, Dave? DAVE. Naw, I wouldn’t say what he said a-tall. DAISY. (Cuddling up to him) Whut would you say, honey? DAVE. I’d say dat box was too heavy for me to fool wid. I wouldn’t tote nothing heavier than my hat and I feel like I’m ’busing myself sometime totin’ dat. DAISY. (Outraged) Don’t you mean to work none? DAVE. Wouldn’t hit a lick at a snake. DAISY. I don’t blame you, Dave (Looks down at his feet) cause toting dem feet of yourn is enough to break down your constitution. JIM. (Airily) That’s all right ... dem foots done put plenty bread in our moufs. DAVE. Not by they selves though ... wid de help of dat box, Jim. When you gits having fits on dat box, boy, my foots has hysterics. Daisy, you marry Jim cause I don’t want to come between y’all. He’s my buddy. JIM. Come to think of it, Dave, she was yourn first. You take and handle dat spade for her. DAVE. You heard her say it is all I can do to lift up dese feets and put ’em down. Where I’m going to git any time to wrassle wid any hoes and shovels? You kin git round better’n me. You done won Daisy ... I give in. I ain’t going to bite no fren’ of mine in de back. DAISY. Both of you niggers can git yo’ hat an’ yo’ heads and git on down de road. Neither one of y’all don’t have to have me. I got a good job and plenty men beggin for yo’ chance. JIM. Dat’s right, Daisy, you go git you one them mens whut don’t mind smelling mules ... and beating de white folks to de barn every morning. I don’t wanta be bothered wid nothin’ but dis box. DAVE. And I can’t strain wid nothin’ but my feets. (DAISY walks slowly away in the direction from which she came. Both watch her a little wistfully for a minute. The sun is setting.) DAVE. Guess I better be gittin’ on back ... it’s most dark. Where you goin’ Jim? JIM. I don’t know, Dave. Down de road, I reckon. DAVE. Whyncher come on back to town. ’Tain’t no use you proguein’ up and down de railroad track when you got a home. JIM. They done lawed me way from it for hittin’ you wid dat bone. DAVE. Dat ain’t nothin’. It was my head you hit. An’ if I don’t keer whut dem old ugly-rump niggers got to do wid it? JIM. They might not let me come in town. DAVE. (Seizing JIM’s arm and facing him back toward the town) They better! Look here, Jim, if they try to keep you out dat town we’ll go out to dat swamp and git us a mule bone a piece and come into town and boil dat stew down to a low gravy.