_Parris._ Would it not be well, good Master Hathorne, for us to see
the afflicted maid before we depart?

_Hutchins._ Oh, I pray you, sirs, come up stairs to my poor child's
chamber and see yourselves in what grievous torment she lies. She
hath often called for Minister Parris, saying they dared not so
afflict her were he there.

_Hathorne._ It would perchance be as well. Lead the way, if you
will, Widow Hutchins. [_Exeunt. Screams continue._

_Enter_ Nancy Fox _and_ Phoebe Morse _stealthily from other door._
Phoebe _carries her rag doll._

_Nancy._ Massy sakes, hear them screeches!

_Phoebe_ (_clinging to_ Nancy). Oh, Nancy, won't they catch us too!
I'm afraid!

_Nancy._ They can't touch us; we're witches too.

_Phoebe._ Massy sakes! I forgot we were witches.

_Nancy._ Hear that, will ye? Ain't she a-ketchin' it?

_Phoebe._ Nancy, do you suppose it's the pin I stuck in my doll
makes Ann screech that way?

_Nancy._ Most likely 'tis. Stick in another, and see if she
screeches louder.