WICKED UNCLE. Welcome, your Majesty! Welcome home from your hunt! But who
is this maiden?

KING. I know not, my Uncle.

WICKED UNCLE. What?

KING. My huntsmen found her in a cave in a far-off country.

WICKED UNCLE. In a cave? Alone?

KING (_nodding_). Alone; spinning coats out of flax.

WICKED UNCLE. This is very strange.

(_To Eliza._)

Why were you all alone in a cave, and why were you spinning coats?

(_Eliza shakes her head._)

KING. She is dumb, Uncle. Not a word has she uttered since we found her.

WICKED UNCLE. Why did you bring her with you?

KING. I will make her my queen.

WICKED UNCLE (_angrily_). Your queen?

KING. See how beautiful she is.