(Mabel tries to walk round the room, clattering the shoe behind her.)
P.—No, I am afraid that won't do at all.
Mab.—(Shaking it off.) It's very hard not being allowed to have my own shoe back again.
P.—(To the Mother.) Are there no more young girls in this house, whom the shoe would be likely to fit?
M.—Alas, these two fair ones are my only joys.
P.—Yet, I thought, as I passed the window, I saw another.
M.—Oh, your highness, I beg your pardon—that was only our scullion, looking out to see you. Naughty thing!
P.—I wish to see her.
L.—Oh, really, your highness!
Mab.—She is a most unprepossessing girl!