PRINCE. [Sadly] No, I don't care to dance.
MASTER OF CEREMONIES. But you must: you are the only presentable gentleman.
PRINCE. That's true, I suppose—[pensively] but is that a fit occupation for me?
MASTER OF CEREMONIES. How do you mean?
PRINCE. At times it seems as if I had something else to think of, but then—then I forget it.
MASTER OF CEREMONIES. Don't brood—enjoy yourself while youth is with you and the roses of life still bloom on your cheeks. Now! Up with the head, and step lively——
The PRINCE grins broadly; then he offers his hand to the OLD LADY, and together they perform a few steps of a minuet.
OLD LADY. [Interrupting the dance] Ugh! Your hands are cold as ice! goes to the throne] Why are those seven ladies not dancing?
MASTER OF CEREMONIES. How do you like the music, Queen?
OLD LADY. It's splendid, but they might play a little more forte——