Princess: No; whoever he is, it is likely I will
not turn away from this one.
Queen: Go now and ready yourself to meet him.
Princess: Am I not nice enough the way I am?
Queen: You are not. The King of Alban's
daughter has hair as smooth as if a cow had licked it.
(Princess goes.)
Gatekeeper: Here is the Prince of the Marshes!
(Enter Prince, very young and timid, an old lady
on each side slightly in advance of him.)
King: A great welcome before you....
And who may these be?
Prince: Seven aunts I have....
First Aunt: (Interrupting.) If he has, there
are but two of us have come along with him.