JUNIOR. Have you any angel food?


SOPHOMORE. Oysters!


FRESHMAN. Fudge!


SENIOR. And olives. Quick, give me a pencil so I can write it down.
(_goes to table and writes_)


JUNIOR. Hurry, before the bell rings. That's much more fun to talk about
than Chaucer. I'm glad I didn't live in his day. Imagine being praised
for not putting your fingers in the gravy and spotting up your shirt
front! I wager that old Prioress was a stick. I shouldn't want her on
our basket ball team. There isn't a sensible woman in the whole of
Chaucer so far as I can see. (_the curtain at the front of the
bookcase begins to shake slightly, becoming more violent as the_
JUNIOR _continues_) The Wife of Bath was a regular Mormon, five
husbands, that's what she had, and she wore red stockings. Such taste!


SENIOR. (_rises and goes to_ JUNIOR) Laurine, don't talk so much.
Come help us decide between dill pickle and strawberry jam, we can't
have both.


SOPHOMORE. Laurine can't help talking. Her whole class does it.