{Emporium.}

Dr. Hinge: Oh, that wind's quite sharp out there, you know, Hilda. I do hope it doesn't bring my face up again.

Dame Hilda: So do I. You're unbearable with your face up, you're bad enough with it down. Anyway, what does the window look like from the outside?

Dr. Hinge: Well, extremely boring, now there's nothing in it.

Dame Hilda: No, I mean the glass, dear, does it look clean? Have I managed to get off all those dirty finger marks that Maud managed to get on while she was cleaning it?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, I think so. But there's a large mark right at the top there in the centre. See it? looks a bit like a footprint.

Dame Hilda: It is a footprint, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Good heavens. I don't see how even Maud contrived to get a footprint right up there.

Dame Hilda: She didn't, dear, I did.

Dr. Hinge: How very agile of you. What were you doing? Entertaining the bus queue with your Can-Can.

Dame Hilda: As a matter of fact, I was trying to remove a cobweb by throwing my slipper at it.

Dr. Hinge: Why couldn't you use a duster?

Dame Hilda: Because I don't wear dusters on my feet, dear. When I'm dressing a window, I wear a window dresser’s slippers, and they were all I had to hand. Incidentally, the first slipper I threw is trapped behind the pegboard at the top there somewhere. Perhaps you'll be good enough to fetch it down for me when you remove the footprint and the cobweb.

Dr. Hinge: What?

Dame Hilda: Well, it's no good looking at me like that, dear. I can't reach it. And I'm not taking the stepladder into the window, because I consider it most unladylike to be caught up a ladder behind glass.

Dr. Hinge: Very well, then. I'll do it later on.

Dame Hilda: Why not do it now, dear? Then I can start dressing the window.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, there's no earthly point in starting to dress that window till this afternoon, after we close. I mean, why do you suppose they're going to do the judging the day after early closing day?

Dame Hilda: Something to do with the fishmonger I shouldn't wonder.

Dr. Hinge: What?

Dame Hilda: Well, it usually is. Everything in Stackton’s done to suit that blasted fishmonger.

Dr. Hinge: They're going to do the judging the day after early closing day to give us time without interruptions to get our windows ready. Everyone will be doing their windows this afternoon.

Dame Hilda: Then perhaps we should leave ours till the morning so they can't steal any ideas. What's more, we could nip round a bit later on and see what the others have done. Not that they'll have done anything worth copying, mind you.

Dr. Hinge: Well, I might remind you that, according to the leaflet and I quote, The competing windows must be ready for judging at 9 a.m. on Thursday the 17th. So if you want to come down here and start window dressing at 3 in the morning, please yourself. But you’ll be doing it on your own?

Dame Hilda: Evadne? do you want to win this competition or not?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, I do. But I'm certainly not prepared to give up my beauty sleep for it.

Dame Hilda: No, of course you're not, Evadne, and I do see why, dear. Very well, we'll do it this afternoon. Incidentally, where are all these stickers we have to put in the window to? To share that we're participating.

Dr. Hinge: They're here. And you don't put them all in Hilda, just one.

Dame Hilda: Which one?

Dr. Hinge: Which one do you think?

Dame Hilda: Do we have to make a guessing game of it?

Dr. Hinge: Each of these three stickers is a different colour. Now, why should that be I wonder?

Dame Hilda: It's prettier I suppose.

Dr. Hinge: It's to tell the judges which category we wish to be judged in.

Dame Hilda: Evadne, what I am going to do in that window is going to take people's breath away.

Dr. Hinge: Heaven, help us.

Dame Hilda: Consequently, I should be quite happy to be judged in all three categories.

Dr. Hinge: Well, you can't be. There are three categories with three prizes offered in each. The categories are A, things to eat red sticker. B, things to wear, blue sticker. And C, things to use, yellow sticker.

Dame Hilda: Are you sure those are the only categories?

Dr. Hinge: I’m positive.

Dame Hilda: Don't they have a things to play category?

Dr. Hinge: No, they do not.

Dame Hilda: Or things to play with.

Dr. Hinge: In Stackton and that would be asking for trouble.

Dame Hilda: But I mean, don't they have an amusement section? What's the toy shop going to go under?

Dr. Hinge: Well, knowing most of the little brats around here, I would say things to eat probably. Now, there's your yellow sticker, dear. Why don't you go and stick it somewhere?

Dame Hilda: All right very well, I knew this was going to be a fiasco. It was bound to be with that fishmonger on the committee. Things to eat, things to wear, things to use. It's all so plebeian and incidentally. We're going to have to get someone to give us a lift into the window with that piano.

Dr. Hinge: We shall have to find ourselves a couple of men.

Dame Hilda:  Well, I Never thought I'd live to hear you say that. Oh, and that reminds me, you did arrange tomorrow a couple of dummies for our display, didn't you?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, I arranged that yesterday. The co-op had a couple goings spare. Maud’s going to collect them on her way back with lunch.

Dame Hilda: Maud is?

Dr. Hinge: Well, she wanted to help and we did need a beast of burden. I wonder if we could trust Maud to get that piano into the window for us.

Dame Hilda: Oh, I much prefer your original idea. We'll get hold of a couple of men. If we can. There's all that stuff over there to go in as well, you know.

Dr. Hinge: All of it?

Dame Hilda: Oh, yes, that's why I gathered it all together.

Dr. Hinge: Well, it's not going to leave much in the shop, is it?

Dame Hilda: Well, if anybody wants anything that's in the window, we can always get it out and replace it with something else, can't we? You see, my theme is capable of infinite variation. That's the beauty of it. Well, one of the beauties of it.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, what exactly is your theme?

Dame Hilda: The music room.

Dr. Hinge: How original?

Dame Hilda: Evadne, dear. My music room will be utterly original. A tableau affording glimpses of the way in which people have amused themselves musically in ages past.

Dr. Hinge: We always had a music room at home when I was a child.

Dame Hilda: Well, I wasn't thinking of ages that far past, dear. After all, where would I get hold of a crumhorn? And don't say by the handle. Ha, ha, ha!. Tastefully arranged draperies backing a series of busts of the great composers from George Frederick Handel to dear Ivor, there, by the piano, you see, there, the harp, lying casually on a rosewood chair, just there a mandolin. Oh, where is the pretty maid who was plucking that one wonders?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, where is she?

Dame Hilda: A lute hangs from that wall there.

Dr. Hinge: Would you like to borrow my banjo to hang from that wall there?

Dame Hilda: Evadne dear, this is the music room, not the co-op hall.

Dr. Hinge: Suit yourself,

Dame Hilda: I intend to. Music lies scattered, no, no, strewn, artistically strewn everywhere. At the piano sits one of our dummies, dressed in some of your old clothes and looking just like you, but hopefully a might more animated. Now, I thought the music stand in front, dead centre, and clothed in one of my prettiest gowns, stands our other lay figure, alas a poor substitute for myself. But I've had worse understudies in my time. How does it all sound?

Dr. Hinge: Well, it should amuse the fishmonger, certainly. And after all, that's the main thing. By the way, is this piece of music on the floor here one of the pieces you intended to strew artistically?

Dame Hilda: Oh, yes, it is. Now, how did it get down there? Now, that should be on the pile.

Dr. Hinge: Sounds very artistic. With a zig, zig, zig, zig, ziggerlum, and a zum, zum, zum, zum, zum, and a hi tiddle….. what a load of rubbish!

Dame Hilda: That is a very pretty little tune, dear. Well, if you don't believe me, sit down and play it for yourself.

Dr. Hinge: Very well, I will.

Dame Hilda:  And make the most of it, because you’re sitting at that piano for the last time before I replace you with a dummy from the co-op.

The only wheeze that I crack with ease is a curious one zig zie.

What they mean, it is hard to glean. Still, I've no need to say.

From my dear my dove to the man I love for I charm his heart away.

With a zig, zig, zig, zig, ziggerlum, and a zum, zum, zum, zum, zum.

And a hi tiddle, iddle, iddle, hi ti hi and a rum, tum, tum, tum, tum, tum.

It makes the men look envious and makes me feel so big.

With a hi tiddle, iddle, iddle, hi ti, hi, and a zig, zig, zig, zig, zig Hi!

Dame Hilda: Not bad, dear, not bad at all.  I don't suppose the dummy could play half as well.

Dr. Hinge: Thank you.

Dame Hilda: Not that it will be fair to make comparisons. After all, you did have lessons, didn't you?

{Knock.}

Dame Hilda:  Now, what on earth's that?

Dr. Hinge: Oh, it's all right, dear. It's just Maud, banging one of her heads against the front door.

Dame Hilda: What? Oh, Evadne, What does she look like standing out there with a naked dummy under each arm?

Dr. Hinge: Well, I'd say rather like some old Viking warrior who's just been out on the rape and pillage.

Dame Hilda: Oh, do open the door for her, dear. She looks so embarrassed.

Dr. Hinge: That's not entirely the fault of the dummy's, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Oh, don't be so unkind, dear.

Maud:  Dame ‘ilda! Dame ‘ilda:!

Dame Hilda: Well, if you're not going to let her in, I will, poor soul. Come along in, Maud, dear You look absolutely exhausted.

Maud: Thank you, Dame ‘ilda. Oh, I've gone just about as far as I can go with these two dummies.

Dame Hilda: Now, put them down anywhere, dear and sit down for a minute or two.

Maud: Oh, Dame ‘ilda, I've had such a morning. Walking all that way with them things. They've ‘ad me flat on the pavement twice, kept catching their legs between mine.

Dame Hilda: I say, they sound a good deal livelier than I thought they’d be.

Maud:  When I tipped ‘em for’ards as they couldn't, their perishing ‘eads fell off.

Dr. Hinge: Why didn't you put their perishing heads in your shopping bag, Maud?

Maud: Because, Doctor, I’d Dame ‘ilda’s dinner in there, and them ‘eads ‘as been rolling in the road.

Dame Hilda:  Good thinking, Maud, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Which just goes to prove that in her case three heads are better than one.

Dame Hilda: I say, Evadne. Someone’s made the most terrible mistake, dear. These dummies are male dummies.

Dr. Hinge: What?

Dame Hilda: They’re men.

Dr. Hinge: Oooh!

Dame Hilda: Well, look, dear. Look for yourself. No not there! At their heads.

Dr. Hinge: No, no, no. It's quite simple, dear. You see, the co-op dummies are all bald, Hilda. They told me that. And I said, we would provide our own wigs.

Dame Hilda: Yes, but I mean, look at their faces. They're so masculine. That one's even got a moustache.

Dr. Hinge: How curious. I mean, those are definitely female torsos, aren't they?

Dame Hilda: Well, yes. Is that what they call unisex

Dr. Hinge: No, dear, that's what they call hermaphrodite.

Dame Hilda: Thank heavens, I don't buy my clothes at the co-op.

Maud: Oh, dear. Them ‘eds might be summat to do with me.

Dr. Hinge: Yes, they'd rather look as if they might be, Maud.

Maud:  See, when I got there Dame ‘ilda, them two didn't have no ‘eads. In the little back room where the man took me, there weren't nothing but bottoms.

Dame Hilda: Are you sure you were in the co-op?

Maud: The tops was all in another little room, with the arms in a cupboard and a big box full of ‘eads. Well, ‘e puts them two together for me and were just going to fetch ‘em their ‘eads when this woman comes in and drags ‘im off.

Dame Hilda: Oh it does seem to have been an interesting morning?

Maud: She wanted ‘im in sports and leisure wear, but ‘e'd not got the legs for that if you ask me.

Dr. Hinge: Perhaps he had them hidden in another box somewhere.

Maud: Anyhow, afore ‘e goes, ‘e points at the ‘eads and ‘e whispers, ‘elp yourself. Then ‘e leaves me there all on me own, ever so quiet it were, and them two ‘eadless torsos standing by the door. Well, I weren’t stopping, so I grabs two ‘eads at random and I shoves ‘em on and I goes.

Dame Hilda: Well, I must say, you've put us in a bit of a pickle. I mean, the one with a moustache, well, it might pass for the Doctor. But I'm certainly not having the other one as me. Just look at it. In my Merry widow wig, it'll look like Billy Connolly. See you!

Dr. Hinge: In your Merry widow wig, you look like Billy Connolly. See you!

Dame Hilda: Oh, don't be so utterly ridiculous, Evadne. No, I'm awfully sorry, Maud. But would you mind terribly taking it back and changing it?

Maud: Well, seeing as its for you, Dame ‘ilda.

Dame Hilda: Oh, bless you, dear. No, no, no, no. There's no need to take the whole thing back. Just take the head. There we are, there and you can hop on a bus with it.

Maud: With an ‘ead in me ‘and?

Dr. Hinge: You could always try it tucked underneath your arm, dear, couldn't you?

Dame Hilda: I tell you what, if you take our lunch out of your bag, you can put the head in there, can't you?

Dr. Hinge: It’s a laborious business, isn't it?

Dame Hilda: There you are.

Dr. Hinge: What about my head?

Dame Hilda: Well, if you can get it off your shoulders, dear, I'm sure Maud will be only pleased to change it.

Maud: Oh, I suppose I might as well take them both. Well, I’ll ‘ave to run it’s early closing, and it's ‘ard enough getting served in there even when it's open. I'll not be long.

Dame Hilda: She's game, isn't she?

Dr. Hinge: Yes. What a shame it's the closed season.

Dame Hilda: Well, we may as well shut up shop, dear. It's ten minutes to one. Then we can have our lunch and get straight on to dressing that window.

Dr. Hinge: Very well, then. I'll lock up. Uh-oh. Look who's coming across the road and heading straight towards us. It's the Moore's.

Dame Hilda: Oh, good heavens. Oh, not that dreadful, Mandy and Peter. We'll never get rid of them.  Quick, dear, put the closed sign up and dive behind the piano.

Dr. Hinge: Too late, Hilda. Too late, we've been spotted.

Mandy: Hello? You've got customers!

Peter: Ding a ling a ling, shop!

Dame Hilda: Hello?

Dr. Hinge: Good afternoon.

Peter: There you are, dear. They're not closed.

Mandy: I didn't say they were.

Peter: You said they would be by the time we got here.

Mandy: I said they would be unless we got a move on.

Peter: But there's ten minutes yet, we're in bags of time.

Mandy: Because I made you get a move on.

Peter: Oh, nonsense, we'd have got here before closing all right. We'd have had less time to browse, that's all.

Dame Hilda: Well, anyway, seeing as you've both just made it, what can we sell you?

Mandy: Do you know Dame Hilda, we don't really know, do we, P?

Peter: No, we don't, no, not really, no. We thought that perhaps if we just wandered round, we might get an inspiration.

Dr. Hinge: Well, you won’t have to wander very far. Hilda's moved most of the stock into that corner there.

Dame Hilda: Perhaps it would help. If I told you what was in the pile.

Mandy: We want a little pressie for Peter's auntie Jane.

Dame Hilda: Ah, I see, well, now we've got something to go on.

Dr. Hinge: Would she like a piano?

Dame Hilda: Oh, don't be silly, Evadne.

Dr. Hinge: Just trying to suggest something that's easy to get at.

Peter: What auntie really likes is things that play music, but don't look as if they would.

Dame Hilda: Oh, wouldn't she love Evadne?

Mandy: Last year we gave her a little work box. And as soon as you lift the lid, it plays love is a many splendored thing.

Dame Hilda: I think I might have just the thing for you. How would your auntie like musical nutcrackers in the form of a brass monkey?

Dr. Hinge: Do we still have that thing?

Dame Hilda: Yes, dear, I'm afraid we do. It's a most unusual piece. When you lift its tail, its mouth opens. That's where you put the nuts. And then it plays a tune. You push the tail down, the mouth shuts and the music stops. You crack your nuts to the tune of beautiful dreamer.

Peter: No, lovely as it sounds, Dame Hilda. I'm afraid not. Auntie doesn't really like monkeys very much.

Dr. Hinge: In that case, how does auntie feel about birds?

Mandy: Oh, she loves birds, doesn't she P.

Peter: Oh, yes, they've always been very good with her.

Dr. Hinge: Well, there you are, then, Hilda. You know, the little clockwork bird in the gilded cage.

Dame Hilda: Oh, yes, you wind it up and it sings.

Peter: What song?

Dame Hilda: Well, a bird song, dear. It tweets

Dr. Hinge: It's a Nightingale.

Dame Hilda: A Nightingale, I thought it was a lark.

Dr. Hinge: You think everything's a lark?

Mandy: I don't think she'd like tweeting, P. She does like a proper song.

Peter: No, right, perhaps we'll get her something entirely different this year.

Mandy: No, no, no, no, it must be musical. I say, Dame Hilda. I know it's already just a little after one, but would you mind awfully if we had a look round?

Dame Hilda: Oh, of course not, dear, of course not.

Dr. Hinge: Now, just a minute, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Shut up, Evadne. I know what I'm doing, dear. Now, you two just take your time. There's no need whatever to rush. But perhaps while you're here, you wouldn't mind doing me just a teeny, weeny little favour.

Peter: Oh, by all means, Dame Hilda, anything at all. You just name it.

Dame Hilda: Well, you do want to go through all that stuff in the corner there, don't you?

Peter: Oh, I'd absolutely love to. If it's not asking too much.

Dame Hilda: Not at all, dear, not at all. But perhaps while you're doing it, you'd be good enough to move it all into the window for me. Oh, and the piano, too, dear. If it's not asking too much.

{Next day.}

Dame Hilda: Well the Moores finally departed, clutching a silver-plated musical cake stand that played the dead march in Saul. It was Irish, for wakes. Maud returned with two new heads and I must say she'd found me a beauty. I almost preferred it to my own, but not quite. When I'd finished, our window looked wonderful. The judging was to take place between 9 and 5 the next day, and by 9 we were ready and waiting. Come 11:30, and those dreaded Moores returned.

Mandy: I'm awfully sorry, Dame Hilda, but we've been thinking, and we're terribly worried that the cake stand made depress auntie Jane.

Peter: She hates cleaning silver.

Mandy: So we wondered if you'd be good enough to exchange it for the singing bird.

Dr. Hinge: You know where the singing bird is, don't you, Hilda?

Dame Hilda: Only too well, Evadne, right in the front of the window there.

Mandy: And it does look so lovely.

Peter: That's what made us finally decide.

Dame Hilda: I suppose you couldn't wait a day or two could you?

Peter: Oh, dear, I do wish we could. I mean, we wouldn't ask, but it's auntie's birthday today, and we're going round after lunch.

Dame Hilda: Well, if you don't mind waiting a few minutes while I fetch it out of the window.

Mandy: There's no rush at all, Dame Hilda. Come along P, we'll pop along to the card shop, and then we can have a coffee.

Peter: I say, I do hope we're not putting you to too much trouble,

Dame Hilda. It's no trouble at all, dear, no trouble at all.

Mandy: We'll see you a little later on then. Bye for now.

Peter: Bye.

Dame Hilda: Bye. Right, Evadne. Nip into the window and get that blessed bird out again, would you?

Dr. Hinge: Why me!

Dame Hilda: Because you're tall, you're skinny, and you've got much longer arms than I have. Those will prove great advantages in there, believe me,

Dr. Hinge: Oh, very well.

Dame Hilda: But do be careful, dear, that window's awfully crowded.

Dr. Hinge: Didn't I tell you you were overdoing it? Anyway, here goes.

Dame Hilda:  It's all right, I'll hold the drapes open for you. No, no, no, go the other way round there to the left, and down past the rosewood chair. Oh, mind, that bust! And mind the harp! Mind the… {Crash.} Oh, well, never mind the aspidistra.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda if your going to keep making me jump. Ooh! Heavens I'm caught.

Dame Hilda: What dear?

Dr. Hinge: My skirt, caught on something. I can't move, can't turn round, can't even bend over.

Dame Hilda:  No, no, no, don't pull it. Here, I'm coming. Now, let me... Now, lean back, push your bottom out.

Dr. Hinge: I say, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: What, dear?

Dr. Hinge: There's a little group of people coming down the road with clipboards in their hands. And look who's leading them.

Dame Hilda: It's the fishmonger.

Dr. Hinge: It's the entire committee, dear, it's the judges.

Dame Hilda: Oh, good heavens, and you can't move. Look, I'll never get out in time without doing untold damage. Here, grab hold of this mandolin and look as if you're playing it. Right, I'll sit at the harp and ditto. Now, don't move a muscle, Evadne. Freeze! I say, Evadne? Are they visible, from where you are?

Dr. Hinge: They’re virtually on top of us.

Dame Hilda: Well, Evadne, did you see that? Clean past, they walked clean past, right by, they hardly glanced at us.

Dr. Hinge: By the way, Hilda. Where exactly did you put that yellow sticker I gave you?

Dame Hilda: Yellow sticker…. Oh, good heavens, the yellow sticker!

Dr. Hinge: Yes, well, really! So they didn't even know we were participating.

Dame Hilda: Oh, Evadne, how could you do that to me?

Dr. Hinge: I didn't do a thing.