H.—We wish to know if any lady in this house lost a shoe at the ball last night? For, if so, her shoe has been found.
M.—(Eagerly.) What a singular thing! Now you mention it, one of my daughters lost a shoe—indeed, they both did.
H.—Indeed! Is it anything like this? (Produces shoe.)
L.—Why, that looks to me like the very one.
P.—Try it on, please, madam.
L.—(Holding out her foot, making faces while the Herald puts it on.) Why, of course, that is mine, it fits me exactly.
M.—It fits the darling girl as if it had been made for her. Walk round the room in it, my love.
(Lucy hobbles round the room, limping violently.)
M.—Oh, there is no doubt, your highness, that that is hers.
P.—Didn't I notice a slight limp as she walked?