PRINCESS. I wish I thought you were.
WOODCUTTER. Surely you have enough people at your service already. Princes and Chancellors and Chamberlains and Waiting Maids.
PRINCESS. Yes, that's just it. That's why I want your help. Particularly in the matter of the Princes.
WOODCUTTER. Why, has a suitor come for the hand of her Royal Highness?
PRINCESS. Three suitors. And I hate them all.
WOODCUTTER. And which are you going to marry?
PRINCESS. I don't know. Father hasn't made up his mind yet.
WOODCUTTER. And this is a matter which father—which His Majesty decides for himself?
PRINCESS. Why, of course! You should read the History Books, Woodcutter. The suitors to the hand of a Princess are always set some trial of strength or test of quality by the King, and the winner marries his daughter.
WOODCUTTER. Well, I don't live in a Palace, and I think my own thoughts about these things. I'd better get back to my work. (He goes on with his chopping.)