KING. Who is this maiden?

PRINCESS. Ah! She is but a beggar-maid; she lives on charity, the songs
she sings, and the flowers she sells in the streets. And now she is
poorer than ever, for your royal mother has caused her to be driven out
of the city.


Here the King weeps--he is supposed to be deeply touched by the
Princess's account of the wrongs done to the beggar-maid--and it is
finally arranged between him and the Princess that they shall pretend to
have come to some violent misunderstanding, and that, in their war of
words, they shall insult each other's parents so grossly that all
possibilities of a marriage will be for ever at an end. Throwing aside a
chair so as to bring the Queen within ear-shot, the King declares that
his royal neighbour is an old dunce, and that there is not enough money
in his treasury to pay the Court boot-maker; the Princess retaliates by
saying that the royal mother of the crowned head she is addressing is an
old cat, who paints her face and beats her maids-of-honour.

The play that up to this point had been considered a little tedious now
engaged the attention of the audience, and when the Queen entered she
was greeted with roars of laughter. The applause was deafening. Olive
played her part better than had been expected, and all the white frocks
trembled with excitement. The youths in the left-hand corner craned
their heads forward so as not to lose a syllable of what was coming; the
Bishop recrossed his legs in a manner that betokened his entire
satisfaction; and, delighted, the mammas and papas whispered together.
But the faces of the nuns betrayed the anxiety they felt. Inquiring