the merings of Ulster.

_Princess:_ A freckled man. He had hair the
colour of a fox.

_King:_ I wish he didn't stop sending me his
tribute of heather beer.

_Queen:_ It is a poor daughter that will not
wish to be helpful to her father.

_Princess:_ If I am to wed for the furnishing
of my father's table, it's as good for you to wrap
me in a speckled fawnskin and roast me!

_(Runs out, tossing her ball_.)

_Queen:_ She is no way fit for marriage unless
with a herd to the birds of the air, till she has a
couple of years schooling.

_King:_ It would be hard to put her back to
that.

_Queen:_ I must take it in hand. She is getting
entirely too much of her own way.

_Nurse:_ Leave her alone, and in the end it will
be a good way.