Snow White has just finished tying Quee's bow. She pats it into shape, kisses him, and says:
Snow White. There! Off you go!
Blick. Couldn't you please give us all another kiss?
Snow White. [Merrily.] No indeed!
Flick. Just one?
Snow White. Not one!
Glick. A little one?
Snow White. No! That's the rule: one a day, morning or night, but not both.
Blick. You see none of us ever, er—should I say "ate" or "tasted"—a kiss till you came, so perhaps we are a little eager about them.
Snow White. I should say you were! Why, you're perfect children about kisses and games.
