CINDERELLA. I’m not hungry. And, of course, I’ll be expected to take a bite at the ball.
(This reminder of the ball spoils the POLICEMAN’S enjoyment.)
POLICEMAN. I wish—you wasn’t so sure of the ball.
GLADYS (in defence). Why shouldn’t she not be sure of it?
DELPHINE. Pourquoi, Monsieur?
CINDERELLA (rather hotly). Don’t say things like that here.
MARIE. Has Monsieur by chance seen God-mamma coming?
POLICEMAN. God-mamma?
CINDERELLA. That’s my Godmother; she brings my ball dress and a carriage with four ponies.