But will you tell me who you are? Don't seem to know you.
GIRL. I am Sudha.
AMAL. What Sudha?
SUDHA. Don't you know? Daughter of the flower-seller here.
AMAL. What do you do?
SUDHA. I gather flowers in my basket.
AMAL. Oh, flower gathering! That is why your feet seem so glad
and your anklets jingle so merrily as you walk. Wish I could be
out too. Then I would pick some flowers for you from the very
topmost branches right out of sight.
SUDHA. Would you really? Do you know more about flowers than I?
AMAL. Yes, I do, quite as much. I know all about Champa of the
fairy tale and his seven brothers. If only they let me, I'll go
right into the dense forest where you can't find your way. And
where the honey-sipping hummingbird rocks himself on the end of
the thinnest branch, I will flower out as a champa. Would you be
my sister Parul?
SUDHA. You are silly! How can I be sister Parul when I am Sudha
and my mother is Sasi, the flower-seller? I have to weave so
many garlands a day. It would be jolly if I could lounge here
like you!
AMAL. What would you do then, all the day long?
SUDHA. I could have great times with my doll Benay the bride,
and Meni the pussycat and--but I say it is getting late and I
mustn't stop, or I won't find a single flower.
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