What can it be?
Cupid.
I think I know.
Fairy (frowning at him, and raising finger in warning).
Nay, impertinent child!
How can you think so?
(Fairy flits about, tinkling bells. She flits up to Cupid, and remains by him. While the attention of the court is taken up with the next admittance, he aims at the heart of the Queen. It is not necessary to shoot, in fact, he had better not. In each case, throughout the play, he merely aims. Whenever there is opportunity the Fairy and Cupid whisper together, unnoticed by the rest, and Cupid aims at every girl in turn, even the little Pages.)
Queen.
Another knock! Who this time?