A ball-room. People walking about. Lucy and Mabel, in ball-dresses, sitting one on each side of their mother.
L.—How very odd it is that nobody comes and asks us to dance!
Mab.—I can't understand it at all.
L.—It isn't as if we were not beautiful.
Mab.—It seems so strange we are not singled out.
M.—My dear girls, the fact is, you are so beautiful, and so well dressed, that people don't dare to ask you. I am sure that is what it is.
L.—I saw the prince looking longingly at me a little while ago, but just as he was going to invite me to dance, he was called away to meet a foreign princess.
Mab.—Of course, if she were a princess, he couldn't help going to meet her. I wonder who she was? She had on the most beautiful silver shoes.
M.—Here is the Court herald, passing through the hall, ask him her name. Oh, sir! I beg your pardon!—
(Herald stops.)