I believe so, Miss.
ROSEMARY. Thank you. (He goes to the door.) Oh, James?
JAMES. Yes, Miss?
ROSEMARY. What _is_ an autobiography?
JAMES. Well, I couldn't rightly say, Miss--not to explain it properly.
ROSEMARY (dismayed). Oh, James! . . . I thought you knew everything.
JAMES. In the ordinary way, yes, Miss, but every now and then----
ROSEMARY. It's very upsetting.
JAMES. Yes, Miss. . . . How would it be to write a play instead? Very
easy work, they tell me.
ROSEMARY (nodding). Yes, that's much better. I'll write a play. Thank
you, James.
JAMES. Not at all, Miss. [He goes out.
(ROSEMARY bites her pen, and thinks deeply. At last the inspiration
comes.)
ROSEMARY (as she writes). Make-Believe. M-a-k-e hyphen B-e-l---- (she
stops and frowns) Now which way _is_ it? (She tries it on the
blotting-paper) _That_ looks wrong. (She tries it again) So does that.
Oh, dear! (She rings the bell . . . JAMES returns.)
JAMES. Yes, Miss?
ROSEMARY. James, I have decided to call my play Make-Believe.
JAMES. Yes, Miss.
ROSEMARY (carelessly). When you spell "believe," it is "i-e," isn't
it?
JAMES. Yes, Miss.
ROSEMARY. I thought at first it was "e-i."
JAMES. Now you mention it, I think it is, Miss.
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