LISA SHARP: (SH! He's comin'.)

Through the fried cotton plant, the girls witness an unmistakable pair of boots ride up.

Down land the boots and down swings a very pretty sheath.

???:
Did I just catch y'all havin' fun? NOBODY: ???: And'a all things...with•out me. That's a shame, a c•ry•in' shame in fact, that y'all always feel the need to leave me out. Sometimes I get the feelin' y'all don't even like me.

SOMEBODY: We, we like ya. ???: Aw, Jenine. I know that. I know, I know. I shouldn't tear myself up over it, how could y'all har•bor any ill will toward me when I'm always thinkin' of you? Allowin' you your own cotton bags. Lettin' you pick the cotton without sup•er•vision on Fridays. Lettin' you pick the cotton. Prac•tic•ally handin' you every opp•or•tunity to betray my trust, 'cause I trust ya. I really am a good OVERSEER. SOMEBODY ELSE: You sure is! THE OVERSEER: Thanks George. Ev•ery•one's sure to appre•ci•ate you volunteerin' to go first. SOMEBODY ELSE (GEORGE): Wh...

Boots gives--The OVERSEER gives the crowd a peek at the contents of this sheath.

THE OVERSEER: Hold still, George. Nah nah nah Memmi, don't cover the kids' eyes. Ev•ery•body's gonna see this. (WALNUT: (*gasp*))

THE OVERSEER: ...
Ev•ery•body, ev•ery•body, ev•ery•body. Speakin' of...

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