PENGUIN. Do you, O Prince, take this lady to be your delightful wife—and to adore her for ever?
PRINCE. I do, I do! Oh, I do, I do indeed! I do—I do—I do!
PENGUIN. Do you, Cinderella, loveliest of your sex, take this Prince for husband, and to love, honour, and obey him?
CINDERELLA (primly). If you please.
PENGUIN. The ring?
(It is MARIE-THERESE’S great hour; she passes her ring to Cinderella, who is married in it. Triumphant music swells out as a crown is put upon our Princess’s head, and an extraordinary long train attached to her person. Her husband and she move dreamily round the ball-room, the children holding up the train. LORD TIMES with exquisite taste falls in behind them. Then follow the courtiers, all dreamily; and completing the noble procession is the LORD MAYOR, holding aloft on a pole an enormous penny. It has the face of CINDERELLA on one side of it—the penny which to those who know life is the most romantic of coins unless its little brother has done better.
The music, despite better intentions, begins to lose its head. It obviously wants to dance. Everyone wants to dance. Even LORD TIMES has trouble with his legs.)
KING (threatening, supplicating). Don’t dance yet. I’ve got a surprise for you. Don’t dance. I haven’t told you about it, so as to keep you on the wonder.
(In vain do they try to control themselves.)
It’s ices!