AMAL. Say, have I kept you too long?

DAIRYMAN. Not a bit; it has been no loss to me at all; you have
taught me how to be happy selling curds. [Exit]

AMAL. [Intoning] Curds, curds, good nice curds--from the dairy
village--from the country of the Panch-mura hills by the Shamli
bank. Curds, good curds; in the early morning the women make the
cows stand in a row under the trees and milk them, and in the
evening they turn the milk into curds. Curds, good curds.
Hello, there's the watchman on his rounds. Watchman, I say, come
and have a word with me.

WATCHMAN. What's all this row you are making? Aren't you afraid
of the likes of me?

AMAL. No, why should I be?

WATCHMAN. Suppose I march you off then?

AMAL. Where will you take me to? Is it very far, right beyond
the hills?

WATCHMAN. Suppose I march you straight to the King?

AMAL. To the King! Do, will you? But the doctor won't let me
go out. No one can ever take me away. I've got to stay here all
day long.

WATCHMAN. Doctor won't let you, poor fellow! So I see! Your