Prince: The Princess coming! (He is agitated.)
Head Cook: Yes. Every Christmas night she comes to pat ze crust wiz her own fair fingers!
Prince: Then I shall see her!
Head Cook: Yes—but you need not let zat discompose you—she vill not notice you. It is only to me she vill spik! Because I am Head Cook! I am like royalty—only more so. She comes—she comes—let each be in your place! Now bow, all bow!
(A graceful march played. Enter Princess Fadeaway, attended by Greening and Sweeting. The Princess is a sweet-voiced, gentle little girl. Her ladies are gorgeously attired, and walk and talk in a disagreeable, affected manner.)
Head Cook: Welcome, Princess; the pie awaits your pleasure!
Princess: Good! (She comes to the table, sees Prince, who starts, and drops dishes. He stands staring at her; does not pick dishes up.)
Princess: Why—who is this strange gentleman—
Head Cook (shocked): Hush—hush—Your Highness, it is only the new scullion!
Princess (amazed): Scullion!