KING. Certainly. (He sits down.)
PRINCE (encouraged to his feet by various royal nudges). My liege King and Queen-Mother, you can have the competitors brought in, and I will take a look at them; but I have no hope. My curse is this, that I am a scoffer about females. I can play with them for a idle hour and then cast them from me even as I cast this banana skin. I can find none so lovely that I may love her for aye from the depths of my passionate heart. I am so blasted particular. O yes! O yes! (He sits down and looks helpless.)
KING (undismayed). All ready?
(The LORD MAYOR bows.)
All is ready, my son.
PRINCE (bored). Then let loose the Beauts.
(To heavenly music from the royal hurdy-gurdies the BEAUTIES descend the stairs, one at a time. There are a dozen of the fine creatures, in impudent confections such as CINDERELLA has seen in papers in MR. BODIE’S studio; some of them with ropes of hair hanging down their proud backs as she has seen them in a hair-dresser’s window. As we know, she has once looked on at a horse show, and this has coloured her conception of a competition for a prince. The ladies prance round the ball-room like high-stepping steeds; it is evident that CINDERELLA has had them fed immediately before releasing them; her pride is to show them at their very best, and then to challenge them.
They paw the floor wantonly until LORD TIMES steps forward. Peace thus restored, HIS MAJESTY proceeds.)
KING. The first duty of a royal consort being to be good, the test of goodness will now be applied by the Lord Mayor. Every competitor who does not pass in goodness will be made short work of.
(Several ladies quake, and somewhere or other unseen CINDERELLA is chuckling.)