Having given full vent to her feelings in a series of convulsive sobs, Whackinta addressed a lengthened harangue, in a melancholy tone of voice, to the audience, the gist of which was that she was an unfortunate widow; that two bears had fallen in love with her, and stolen her away from her happy home in Nova Zembla; and, although they allowed her to walk about as much as she chose, they watched her closely and prevented her escaping to her own country.  Worst of all, they had told her that she must agree to become the wife of one or other of them, and if she did not make up her mind and give them an answer that very day, she was to be killed and eaten by both of them.  In order the more strongly to impress the audience with her forlorn condition, Whackinta sang a tender and touching ditty, composed by herself expressly for the occasion, and sang it so well that it was encored twice.

To all this Blunderbore listened with apparent rapture, and at length ventured to advance and discover himself; but the instant Whackinta saw him she fell on her knees and trembled violently.

“Spare me, good king,” she said; “do not slay me.  I am a poor widow, and have been brought here by two bears against my will.”

“Woman,” said the giant, “my name is Blunderbore.  I am, as you perceive by my crown, a king; and I am a lonely man.  If I kill the two bears you speak of, will you marry me?”

“Oh, do not ask me, good Blunderbore!  I cannot; it is impossible.  I cannot love you—­you are—­forgive me for saying it—­too big, and fierce, and ugly to love.”

Blunderbore frowned angrily, and the audience applauded vociferously at this.

“You cannot love me! ha!” exclaimed the giant, glaring round with clenched teeth.

At this moment the Big Bear uttered an awful roar, Whackinta gave a piercing scream and fled, and Blunderbore hid himself hastily behind the hummock.  The next moment the two bears bounded on the stage and began to gambol round it, tossing up their hind legs and roaring and leaping in a manner that drew forth repeated plaudits.  At length the Little Bear discovered the baby, and, uttering a frantic roar of delight, took it in its fore paws and held it up.  The Big Bear roared also, of course, and rushing forward caught the baby by the leg, and endeavoured to tear it away from the Little Bear, at which treatment the poor baby again commenced to cry passionately.  In the struggle the baby’s head came off, upon which the Little Bear put the head into its mouth and swallowed it.  The Big Bear immediately did the same with the body; but its mouth was too small, and the body stuck fast and could not be finally disposed of until the Little Bear came to the rescue and pushed it forcibly down its throat.  Having finished this delicate little morsel the two bears rose on their hind legs and danced a hornpipe together—­Tom Singleton playing the tune for them on a flute behind the scenes.  When this was done they danced off the stage, and immediately, as if in the distance, was heard the voice of a man singing.  It came gradually nearer, and at last Buzzby, in the character of Ben Bolt, swaggered up to the foot-lights with his hands in his breeches pockets.