Marion. His lordship might think I was the maid. I’m spry upon my feet you know.
[Susan comes still nearer.
Marion. [Turning to her and speaking rudely.] Well, Princess Rags, ’tisn’t likely as ’twas you a-dancing one of your Morris dances in the wood that day!
Rose. [Mockingly.] ’Tisn’t likely as his lordship would set his thoughts on a wench what could caper about like a Morris man upon the high road. So there.
Susan. [Indifferently.] I never danced upon the high road, I dances only where ’tis dark with gloom and no eyes upon me. No mortal eyes.
Marion. [Impudently.] Get along with you, Princess Royal. Go off to th’ old gipsy Gran’ma yonder. We don’t want the likes of you along of us.
Rose. Go off and dance to your own animals, Miss Goatherd. All of us be a-going to practise our steps against May Day. Come along girls.
[She signs to the other girls who all draw near and arrange themselves for a Country Dance. Susan goes slowly towards her Grandmother and sits on the ground by her side, looking sadly and wistfully at the dancers. At the end of the dance, the girls pick up their baskets and go off in different directions across the green. Susan and her Grandmother remain in their places. The gipsy continues to smoke and Susan absently turns over the things in her basket.
Susan. They mock me in the name they have fixed to me—Princess Royal.
Grandmother. Let them mock. I’ll bring the words back to them like scorpions upon their tongues.