How should I know, my child? I am an old bachelor. [Priscilla beckons Leslie.]
Priscilla.
Missy—Miss—you’re untidy again!
Leslie.
Oh, no, don’t say that!
[Priscilla arranges Leslie’s costume.]
Leslie.
The little mirror, Priscilla. [Surveying herself critically as the sunlight enters at the windows.] Priscilla, I’m getting uglier as the day wears on.
Priscilla.
I’m sure you’re quite good-looking enough for London, Miss.