The scenes of the Play-play change with each act.  For Act I the set is a drawing-room in a wealthy old New York home, entrances Right-center and Left.  Both front and rear scenes are lighted by many small lights, which can be turned off a few at a time, so that one scene or the other fades slowly.  When the Real-play is in full light, the Play-play is dark and invisible.  When the front scene is entirely dark, we see the Play-play, slightly veiled at the sides.  In case of some rude interruption, the dream is gone in a flash, and the reality of the garret surrounds us.  The text calls for numerous quick changes of three of the characters from the Real-play to the Play-play and back.  Dialogue and business have been provided at these places to permit the changes.

At rise.—­The Real-play, showing Peggy putting bill to bed; she is young and pretty, he is a bright but frail child.

Bill. Say, Peggy!

Peggy. Well, Bill?

Bill. Can you guess.

Peggy. How many guesses?

Bill. Three.

Peggy. All right.  I guess my little son doesn’t want to go to bed!

Bill. Say!  You guessed it!

Peggy. Oh, mother’s great at guessing!

Bill. But honest, it’s still light.

Peggy. I know—­but that’s because it’s summertime.  Don’t you remember the little song? (sings)

    In winter I get up at night
    And dress by yellow candle-light;
    In summer, quite the other way,
    I have to go to bed by day!

Bill. Say, Peggy—­when’s Will coming in?

Peggy. I don’t know, dear.  Your father’s working.

Bill. Ain’t he goin’ to have any dinner?

Peggy. I don’t know—­he didn’t tell me.

Bill. Is he writin’?

Peggy. Yes—­or else thinking about things to write.

Bill. Say!  He’s great on writin’, ain’t he?

Peggy. You bet!

Bill. Do you think it’s good stuff?

Peggy. Indeed I do, Bill!

Bill. You don’t often tell him so.

Peggy. Don’t I?

Bill. No—­generally you rip him up the back.

PEGGY (laughs).  Well, mother has to keep him trying, you know.

Bill. Say, Peggy, do you suppose I’ll be an author when I grow up?

Peggy. Can’t tell, dear—­it depends.

Bill. Maybe I’ll have to get some payin’ job, hey?

Peggy. Where did you pick up that idea?

Bill. Ain’t you talkin’ about it all the time to him?

Peggy. Am I?  Well, I declare!  Now, come, Mr. Bill—­it’s after bed-time.

Bill. Can’t I wait till Will comes?

Peggy. No, dear.