Lord Cullen. [To Alice.] Perhaps you have a tongue in your head. From whom did you try to learn those steps?
[Alice turns sulkily away. Jockie comes forward.
Jockie. I’ll tell your lordship all about it, and I’ll take your lordship straight to the right wench, that I will, if so be as your lordship will give a shilling to a poor little swine-herd what goes empty and hungered most of the year round.
Lord Cullen. A handful of gold, my boy, if you lead me rightly.
[Jockie leads the way to the tree where Susan is sitting. She stands up as Lord Cullen approaches, and for a moment they gaze at one another in silence.
Grandmother. You might curtsey to the gentleman, Susan.
Lord Cullen. No—there’s no need of that, from her to me. [Turning to Jockie and putting his hand in his pocket.] Here, my boy, is a golden pound for you—and more shall follow later.
[He then takes Susan’s hand and leads her to the foot of the dais.
Lord Cullen. Will you dance for me again, Susan?
Several of the Girls. [Mockingly.] Princess Royal is her name.