Lucky Pehr. August Strindberg

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      LISA. No; but children play with it.

      PEHR. Play—that I have never done! Shall we play, Lisa?

      LISA. Yes—but what? Shall we play a game of tag?

      PEHR. How does it go?

      LISA. Watch me! [She runs behind a tree and throws cones at Pehr.] Now catch me!

      PEHR. [Running after her.] But that's not so easily done! [Steps on a cone and hurts his foot.] The damned spruce apples!

      LISA. Mustn't curse the fruit of the trees!

      PEHR. One can do without such fruit! I prefer the kind I saw on a Christmas-tree. If this spruce could bear such fruit, then—[Instantly spruce bears oranges.] Look, look! Let us taste. [They pick fruit and eat.]

      LISA. Well, what think you?

      PEHR. Oh! it's rather good—but not quite what I had fancied.

      LISA. So it is always—all through life.

      PEHR. My dear girl, how wise you are! Lisa, may I put my arm around your waist? [A bird in the tree begins to sing softly.]

      LISA. Yes; but what for?

      PEHR. May I kiss you also?

      LISA. Yes—there's no harm in that, surely. [Bird sings louder.]

      PEHR. I'm so warm after the play, Lisa! Shall we bathe in the brook?

      LISA. [Covers her eyes with her hands.] Bathe!

      PEHR. [Throws off coat.] Yes!

      LISA. [Hides behind a tree.] No, no, no! [Bird sings.]

      PEHR. Who is that screech-owl up in the tree?