Free Moominsummer Madness by Tove Jansson

right, all right,' Moominpappa answered nervously. 'The lion shall devour, first you, and lastly Misabel. Don't disturb me, I'm trying to think in blank verse,'
    'Have you got the family matters right now, dear?' Moominmamma asked worriedly. 'Yesterday the Mymble's daughter was married to your runaway son. Is it Misabel who's married to him now, and am I her mother? And is the Mymble's daughter unmarried?'
    'I don't want to be unmarried,' the Mymble's daughter said at once.
    'They can be sisters,' cried Moominpappa desperately. 'The Mymble's daughter is your daughter-in-law. I mean mine. Your aunt, that is.'
    'I doubt it,' remarked Whomper. 'If Moominmamma's married to you, then it's impossible for your daughter-in-law to be our aunt.'
    'It's all the same to me,' cried Moominpappa. 'There'll never be any play to perform, anyway!'
    'Easy now, easy now,' said Emma with unexpected understanding. 'Everything's going to be all right. And anyway the audience won't understand a word.'
    'Emma dear,' said Moominmamma. 'This dress is too narrow for me... it keeps slipping up in the back.'
    'Now remember,' said Emma, her mouth full of pins, 'you mustn't look so happy when you come on the stage and tell him that your son has told him a pack of lies!'
    'No, I promise,' said Moominmamma.
    Misabel was reading her part. Suddenly she threw the paper away and cried: 'It's far too lighthearted! It doesn't suit me at all!'
    'Hush, Misabel,' said Emma sternly. 'We start now. Are the spots ready?'
    Whomper turned on the yellow spotlight.
    'Red! Red!' the Mymble's daughter shouted. 'My entrance's red! Why must he always take the wrong light!'
    'They all do,' said Emma calmly. 'Are you ready?'
    'I can't remember my lines,' mumbled Moominpappa, panic-striken. 'Not a word!'
    Emma patted him on the shoulder. 'That's as it should be,' she said. 'Everything's exactly as it should be on a dress rehearsal.'
    She thumped the floor three times with her broomstick, and silence fell over the boats outside. With a thrill of happiness in her old body she grasped the crank handle to raise the curtain.

    Admiring whispers were heard among the sparse audience. Most of the hedgehogs had never been to the theatre before.
    They saw a landscape of wild rocks, in red light.
    To the right of the looking-glass cabinet (draped in black cloth), the Mymble's daughter was sitting, dressed in a tulle skirt, and a wreath of paper-flowers around her hairknot.
    She studied the audience with great interest for some time and then spoke, rapidly and casually:
    If I must die tonight, in blooming youth,
    While all my innocence cries to high heav'n,
    Then into Blood may bloodily turn the sea
    And into dust the sprightliness of spring!
    A Rosebud, blushing still from childish sleep
    I'm slewn to earth by unrelenting Fate!
    Behind the scenes rose a shrill chant. It was Emma:
    O Night, O Night, O Night, O Night of Fate!
    Now Moominpappa entered from the left with a cloak carelessly draped over his shoulder, turned to the audience, and recited in a trembling voice:
    The bonds of Family and Friendship must
    Be broken at the sad command of Duty.
    Alas, shall then my crown be lifted off
    By th'sister of my daughter's nephew?
    He felt that there was something wrong with the words, and resumed:
    Alas, shall then my crown be lifted off
    By the sister-in-law of my daughter's son?
    Moominmamma put in her head from the wings and whispered: 'By the sister of my daughter's sister's son!'
    'I know, I know,' said Moominpappa. 'I'll skip that part this time.'
    He took a step towards the Mymble's daughter, who hid herself behind the cabinet, and continued:
    Then tremble, treacherous Mymble, tremble now
    And listen to the beastly lion's roar
    As hungrily he stamps about his cage
    Ululating at the moon!
    A long silence followed.
    'Ululating at the moon!' repeated Moominpappa, louder.
    Nothing happened.
    He turned to the left and asked: 'Why doesn't the lion ululate?'
    'I wasn't to ululate until Whomper