This was the last play of the six that I wrote, and in some desperation: I needed another tale, and a pretty thorough search through the African Folk Tales book had proved fruitless.  I am fairly sure that I had read this one and rejected it, on the grounds that its initial premise – the various ingredients of soup competing for a husband – seemed rather silly.

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               A second, or it may have been third, reading suggested certain advantages, however.  The story itself, if you forgot the fact that they were all vegetables, had real charm.  It also contained a neat reversal, with one character being bullied by the others, but managing to turn the tables because of her kind and caring nature.

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               Perhaps most importantly of all, the cast would require eight girls and one boy, and since I assumed (correctly) that there would be more girls than boys auditioning, this was too good an opportunity to turn down.  And now that it is written, of course, I find it charming.