[_She goes to the door and strews the primroses outside._

FATHER HART.

You do well, daughter, because God permits
Great power to the good people on May Eve.

MAURTEEN BRUIN.

They can work all their will with primroses--
Change them to golden money, or little flames
To burn up those who do them any wrong.

MAIRE BRUIN.

I had no sooner flung them by the door
Than the wind cried and hurried them away.

BRIDGET BRUIN.

May God have mercy on us!

MAIRE BRUIN.

The good people
Will not be lucky to the house this year,
But I am glad that I was courteous to them,
For are not they, likewise, children of God?

FATHER HART.