[LADY CREECH, flustered and hot, enters from the hotel. She is a
haughty, cross-looking woman in the sixties.]

ETHEL [going to LADY CREECH, speaks close to her ear and loudly]. Lady
Creech--dear Lady Creech--what is the trouble?

LADY CREECH. Some horrible people coming to this hotel! They've made a
riot in the village.

[The noise becomes suddenly louder. MARIANO, immediately upon LADY
CREECH'S entrance, appears in hotel doors, makes a quick gesture toward
breakfast-table, and withdraws.]

[MICHELE, laughing, immediately enters by same doors, goes rapidly to
the breakfast-table and clears it. The others pay no attention to this.]

HORACE [at steps up left]. It's not a riot--it's a revolution.

LADY CREECH [sinking into a chair, angrily]. One of your horrid
fellow-countrymen, my dear. Your Americans are really too--

ETHEL [proudly]. Not _my_ Americans, Lady Creech!

HORACE. Not _ours_, you know. One could hardly say that, _could_ one?

ALMERIC [heard outside laughing]. Oh, I say, what a go! [Enters from the
hotel, laughing.] Motor-car breaks down on the way here; one of the
Johnnies in it, a German, discharges the chauffeur; and the other Johnny
[he throws himself sprawling into a chair], one of your Yankee chaps,
Ethel, hires two silly little donkeys, like rabbits, you know, to pull