Nowadays the plot of a musical comedy is hard beset by two perils: it is either spun out from one idea, which gets rather frayed toward the end, or is pared down to the quick from the story of the original. This latter is evidently the case with "The Man from Cook's." But though the piece does fall rather weakly into the position of a showcase for gems of song, its framework is given as high a polish as it can stand in the elaborate production of Messrs. Klaw and Erlanger, and it is refreshingly sweet and clean after such things as the "Follies."

The remains of what may once have been a plot centre about a law student in Paris who has not yet met the girl; the girl herself; a Mama with suffragette leanings, yet clothed in most ladylike attire; a Papa who made money in Omaha, Neb., transferred it to his wife. and now will drink cocktails on the sly in spite of her; an English lord wanted by Mama for Marjorie; a mock-English lord to do the confusion-of-identity stunt;--all these and more are tangled up in Cook's Office in Paris with the Opera standing bravely in an empty square outside. All of a sudden you find it isn't Cook's; the ubiquitous Thomas has moved out and a female restaurateur has moved in. This produces a pretty confusion, especially since Cook's sign is still up. Various people come in to buy tickets and get advice; in this way the student, who is really a prince, and who has been dining at the restaurant, meets the girl, and in order to win her away from Mama's Englishman, passes himself off as Cook's agent, and arranges a trip to Naples at his own expense, taking the whole company with him. In Naples they get into and out of complications without much trouble, and fall into each others' arms in the end.

Along the way are scattered a few pretty songs which would be prettier if the lyrics were more singable, one clever take-off on the modern physician whose only cure is to operate, several excellent choruses with a score of splendidly gowned girls to sing them, one thrilling Italian dance, and one ear-splitting fantasia on a large set of bells. In sum, a clean, pretty performance, which, while it does not escape the structural perils of musical comedy, has no other great blemishes.