JUNIOR. (_beginning before she enters with a Chaucer in her hand_)
"Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote"--I came much more quickly
than I'll ever get that old stuff in my head. (_she throws the book
down_)


SENIOR. Don't you like Chaucer? We just loved him.


JUNIOR. So do all the rest of our class except me. I just can't get him
into my head.


SOPHOMORE. Poor thing! I should hope not.


SENIOR. What would you like to eat at the Thanksgiving spread?


JUNIOR. Eat! Everything you're going to have. (_suspiciously_) This
isn't one of those stupid puns on _Chaucer_ is it?


SOPHOMORE. I should say not.


FRESHMAN. We are helping make out the menu. There's Welsh rarebit and
chocolate _éclaires_ already.