(_now_ C.), having come here together, and we don't want to spoil
their day entirely.

DELIA (_smiling, on_ BELINDA'S L.). I'll be your mother if you
like.

BELINDA. Oh no, that wouldn't do, because then Mr. Baxter would feel
that he ought to ask your permission before paying his attentions to me.
He's just that sort of man. A niece is so safe--however good you are at
statistics, you can't really prove anything.

DELIA. All right, mummy.

BELINDA (_enjoying herself_). You'd like to be called by a
different name, wouldn't you? There's something so thrilling about
taking a false name. Such a lot of adventures begin like that. How would
you like to be Miss Robinson, darling? It's a nice easy one to remember.
(_Persuasively_.) And you shall put your hair up so as to feel more
disguised. What fun we're going to have!

DELIA. You baby! All right, then, I'm Miss Robinson, your favourite
niece. (_She takes her jacket from the hammock and moves towards the
house_.)

BELINDA. How sweet of you! No, no, not that way--you'll meet them.
(_Following quickly up between tree and table to_ DELIA, _who has
now reached the house_.) Oh, I'm coming with you to do your hair.
(_Moving up_ C., _arm in arm with_ DELIA.) You don't think you're
going to be allowed to do it yourself, when so much depends on it, and
husbands leave you because of it, and----