With plot-ingredients enough to make a brilliant little one-act farce, the producers of "His Bridal Night," now playing at Ye Wilbur Theatre, have spread the material at hand through three acts of more or less questionable uproariousness. Success of farce is due largely to the rapidity with which the thing moves, and certainly two or three big scenes, no matter how ludicrous, are not sufficient to keep a laugh-hungry audience busy for a full evening. This deficiency has evidently been noticed by the sponsors of the play, so they have sought to hide it under a copiousness of suggestive references, which brings howls from a student audience, but hardly compensate even Mr. Broad-Minded Listener. He smiles, of course, but always wondering whether it is with or at the players.

There are two items, however, which do get "His Bridal Night" across, and they are the Dolly Sisters, the splendid Roszica and the incomparable Yancsi (pronunciation need not be attempted). Anyone who has seen these two in the Winter Garden things of former years would hardly give them credit for even an ounce of real dramatic ability, no matter how prejudiced he was because of their physical charm. But they prove the mistake of such an opinion in their work of osculation and keeping certain men guessing. Surely such things rank high among feminine arts. And when the Dolly Sisters dance, the last word has been said in Terpsichorean accomplishments. "Oh, how they dance." Yes, the old and rheumatic must admit that a trip to Ye Wilbur is now worth while.

The supporting members of the cast are well selected, although there is a marked tendency to overact among them. This is especially true of Mr. John Weatley as Joe Damorel and Miss Jessie Ralph as Sloan. The former does a fine bit of acting in pacing up and down before the boudoir door with no companion but a cigarette; he needs no lines at this time, he needs no lines at this time, he thoroughly acts his feelings. Miss Ralph missed a good opportunity to score high with the audience in not keeping her maid humor more subdued. Miss Lucile Watson as Julie and Mr. Harry Lillford as Algernon, the butler, naturally, contributed much to the entertainment.

Just where the climax of the play itself was, it would be hard to say, but those who were present were well aware when the climax of the evening came--when the Misses Dolly sang "Beware of Pink Pajamas." This number brought much applause and no little interest. But that is the pity of the whole thing. Why could not more musical features have been introduced? If the authors objected to turning their farce into a musical comedy their objections stand in the way of their gaining more laurels. Although mixing categories is an awful danger among dramatists, a hybrid triumph is better than mere mediocrity.