Blick. My thimble!
Snick. My almanac.
Plick. My empty bottle.
Glick. And my pet frog.
Blick. [Laying the gifts gently on the foot of Snow White's bed.] There! that may help. But no! It's no use, brothers. There is Quee!
All. [Hopelessly.] Yes! There is Quee!
Flick. We might hide him? Blick. She'd be sure to find him sooner or later.
Glick. He might reform.
Blick. But we never could pretend he wasn't dirty. He hasn't been washed for fifty years.
Flick. [With a sudden inspiration.] Brothers, why not wash him now?
Glick. We might!
All. We WILL!!
