KING. Ah, my dear, you're just in time. Your mother---

PRINCESS. My mother?

KING. Yes, yes. A little plan of mine--of hers--your poor mother.
Dear, dear!

PRINCESS. But what's the matter?

KING. She is suffering from a surfeit of bread, and---

(The WOODCUTTER comes up with a flagon of wine)

WOODCUTTER. Poor old woman! She has fainted from exhaustion. Let me
give her some---

QUEEN (shrieking). No, no, not bread! I will _not_ have any more
bread.

WOODCUTTER. Drink this, my poor woman.

QUEEN (opening her eyes). Did you say drink? (She seizes the flagon
and drinks)

PRINCESS. Oh, sir, you have saved my mother's life!

WOODCUTTER. Not at all.

KING. I thank you, my man, I thank you.