(All depart.  After a little while KALF and THORGEIR poke their heads in and enter, when they see that the room is empty.)

Kalf.—­Nobody here; come now, we are going to play.

Thorgeir.—­Yes, play great, big men!

Kalf.—­Father is going to fight against Kolbein the Young now, and Broddi with him.  Will you be Broddi?

Thorgeir.—­No, I want to be papa!

Kalf.—­Then you want to be what I wanted to be; so I shall be Kolbein the Young.  So, now let’s begin.

Thorgeir.—­Yes, and I am papa.

Kalf.—­Now first we have got to fight one another.

Thorgeir.—­No.  Because I am papa!

Kalf (commands).—­Draw up your forces in battle array, Brand Kolbeinsson!  Come now, Geiri, and play with me; we must fight now!

Thorgeir.—­You are out of your mind!  Why do you want to rush at me?  I who am father? (Kneels down in the background, folding his hands over his breast, looking down and moving his lips.)

Kalf.—­Why, don’t you remember that I am Kolbein the Young?  Now the battle begins! (Commanding.) Order your troops, Brand Kolbeinsson!  Defend yourself!  Are you running and hiding yourself now, Brand Kolbeinsson?

Thorgeir.—­No, I am in church and saying my prayers.

Kalf.—­I shall teach you saying prayers when you are to fight with me! (Angrily.) Now I am dragging you out of church, Brand Kolbeinsson. (Grasps him and drags him out to the middle of the floor.  THORGEIR remains on his knees.) There, now you have got out of church!

Thorgeir.—­No, papa is still in the church!

Kalf.—­Now you are out of it!  Cut off his head, Helgi Skaftason! (Grasps THORGEIR by his shoulder and lifts up his other hand.)

Thorgeir (still kneeling).—­Are you out of your mind?  Do you want to kill me, who am papa—­and I—­while I am in church,—­and—­and—­and I—­while I am saying my prayers?

Kalf (lifting up his hand).—­Cut off his head, Helgi Skaftason!

Thorgeir (as before, weeping).—­Mamma!  Mamma!  Mamma!

Kalf (stamping, with commanding voice).—­Cut off his head, Helgi Skaftason! (Enter JORUN.  THORGEIR is weeping.)

Jorun.—­What are you doing there, boys?  Why are you crying, Thorgeir?

Kalf.—­We are playing here.

Thorgeir (tearfully).—­He wants to cut my head off,—­I who am papa, and in church, and praying.

Kalf.—­Yes, and I was Kolbein the Young, and wanted to have Helgi Skaftason behead him—­just in play.

Jorun.—­Don’t cry any more, my boy. (Caresses THORGEIR.) And you, Kalf, do you want to have your father beheaded in your game?  No more such games! (Slaps KALF.)