Transcript
Narrator/Host (0:03)
The mary bakers at relevant radio present. Episode 16, tiny tim.
Narrator/Reader (0:27)
Master Peter Cratchit and the two ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon returned in high procession. Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose, the rarest of all birds, a feathered phenomenon to which a black swan was a matter of course. And in truth, it was something very like it in that house.
Mrs. Cratchit (0:46)
Make way. Make way for the Christmas goose. Make way. Hold that there. You must not forget the gravy. Come now. Come, Peter. And where are the potatoes, Belinda? I'll fetch them. Hold on. And Martha, are the plates set? Yes, Mum, they will be. Will be. Is not is, young man.
Narrator/Host (1:06)
Come, Young Tim. Let's us two sit down here and wait for the women to finish setting this fine feast.
Mrs. Cratchit (1:12)
Come, Edward, help me get these chairs. I'll pull these in.
Narrator/Reader (1:18)
At last the dishes were set on and grace was said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving knife, prepared to plunge it into the goose's breast.
Mrs. Cratchit (1:30)
Cut the goose, Mama.
Narrator/Host (1:34)
There you go, Mama.
Mrs. Cratchit (1:35)
Oh, look at that. Whoa, Mama. Hurrah.
Narrator/Reader (1:39)
There was never such a goose. Bob said he didn't believe there was ever such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavor, size and cheapness were the themes of univers admiration eked out by applesauce and mashed potatoes. It was a sufficient dinner for the whole family.
Narrator/Host (1:55)
Now, I've never seen a goose disappear so fast, even when I've chased it.
Mrs. Cratchit (2:01)
I don't believe that we've ate it all. Why, there's still some left. I can't eat anymore.
Narrator/Host (2:06)
Oh, well, Peter, I suppose you won't be wanting any dessert. We still have pudding. Isn't that right, Mom?
Mrs. Cratchit (2:13)
How did you remember that, Robert? Yes, that's right. It's a shame that Peter will have to wait until next Christmas to have some, isn't it? I'm still hungry, Mum. Don't worry, Peter. Shall I help bring it in? No, you change the plates out, Belinda. I can't bear any witness to this. If it's not cooked through, I don't want anyone else seeing my handiwork. I'll take the pudding in myself.
