Ladies of the Chorus Page #3

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Yeah, cousin,

she's got a mother.

Yeah, everybody's got a mother.

But her mother's a

one-man security council.

Right. She knocks off wolves

like they were clay pigeons.

What did you say?

# Every baby needs a da-da-daddy #

# With silver in his hair #

# Every baby needs a da-da-daddy #

# Who has some gold to spare #

# Some sweet softie who enjoys #

# Bringing home his baby

Little diamond toys, oh, ho #

# Every baby needs a da-da-daddy #

# Could my da-daddy be you? #

# Every baby needs a da-da-daddy #

# In case she runs aground #

# Do-do, every baby

Needs a da-da-daddy #

# To keep her safe and sound #

# Yes, we feel just

like Red Riding Hood #

# 'Cause the wolves are awful hungry

In our neighbourhood #

# Oh, every baby

Needs a da-da-daddy #

# Could my da-daddy be you? #

# Could my da-daddy be you? ##

Peggy?

Yes, Mother.

Need any help?

I don't think so.

Do you like my hair?

Turn around, honey.

Come in.

For you, Miss Martin.

Thank you, Mr Gregg.

Oh, it's beautiful.

From that bookmaker again?

No, I don't think so.

He sends violets.

"Thank you for

a most enjoyable evening. "

Who is it?

There's no name.

No name?

Well, that's strange.

I wonder who it could be.

Oh, probably some politician

who's bashful, or married.

For you, Miss Martin.

Thank you, Mr Gregg.

You'll soon be known

as the orchid lady.

"To a charming young lady. "

"Would love to meet you. "

Peggy, another one.

Whoever he is, he certainly

has cornered the orchid market.

What does it say this time?

"An ardent admirer. "

Hmm, another orchid.

He must be a florist.

Are you sure

you never met him?

No, but I'd like to, just to see

what kind of a character he is.

Oh, he's probably very dull.

Well, darling, I've got some shopping

to do. I'll see you at the apartment.

Okay, Mother.

Florist.

Oh. Can I help you?

Yes, I think so.

Something for yourself?

Cocktail party, opera?

Oh, isn't that

a beautiful orchid?

Oh, the one in the box.

That's an order.

Oh, I've just got to tell this.

You know, there's a fellow

comes in here every evening

and sends one of them

orchids to his girl.

A real good customer?

I'll say. And good-looking, too.

He should be here any

minute. Lives in a hotel.

He comes in every evening

around 6 without fail.

Pays cash, has it sent and never

signs his name to the card.

How strange.

And you know what?

This will kill you.

He sends it to Peggy Martin,

the burlesque queen,

over at the Rome Theatre.

No.

So help me.

Can you imagine? Sending all

them orchids to a burlesque queen.

There's no telling about

a man's taste, I always say. Hmm.

Well, dearie, have you made up your

mind what kind of flowers you want?

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