The Pedlar-Woman. [Going to the door.] You shan't escape me this time, my little beauty! You have no soft-hearted Berthold to deal with now, but Brangomar, Brangomar her very self! [And off she strides toward the house of the Seven Dwarfs.]
- [Left alone with Fiddle, the Witch goes to the blazing fire and again sits down upon it, thoughtfully.
The Witch. Poor little Snow White! I'm afraid her goose is cooked this time. I'm really sorry for her. I don't bear her any ill will in spite of my pigs' tails. Fiddle, bring my mirror.
- [Fiddle brings the mirror, and Witch Hex studies her new appearance carefully.
The Witch. Oh, not so bad after all! They're quite becoming; sure to keep their curl in the dampest weather, and certainly the very latest thing!
the curtain falls
