- rush in fiercely, their little knives drawn, and surround the Pedlar-Woman.
Blick. What are you doing here?
Flick. Where is Snow White?
The Pedlar-Woman. Safe and sound, my little gentlemen. But I've scarce breath to tell you. Just give me thirty seconds—or thirty-one or thirty-two or thirty-three . . .
Blick. What are you mumbling?
The Pedlar-Woman. I was passing by with my basket o' wares . . . [Blick makes a threatening gesture and she hurries on with a little cry.] . . . just passing—when your sweet little lady calls me to step in.
Blick. Where is she now?
The Pedlar-Woman. She stepped into the forest on an errand, and bid me mind the house till she got back.
Blick. Errand? What errand?
