M.—Oh dear no, your highness, I don't think so.
P.—All the same, I think she had better take it off.
M.—And you, Mabel, didn't you say you had lost one of your shoes?
Mab.—Yes! I remember when I undressed noticing that I had lost it.
M.—Then, of course, it must be yours.
(The Herald kneels beside her, tries to force on the shoe, while Mabel makes faces of agony.)
Mab.—Oh, not a doubt, that is mine. (Stands up.)
H.—Your heel is quite out of it still.
Mab.—That is how I always wear my shoes.
M.—That is what gives her such a springy, graceful walk.