Mandarin—Your?
Kwen-lin—My singing bird.
Mandarin—A Cherry Blossom, and a singing bird! An illustrious choice for a man of high position.
Kwen-lin—You sound very like a singing bird.
Mandarin—Something has broken in their heads. Spring has tangled the brain threads. It must be Spring!
Kwen-lin—It is Spring, and soon it will be superb Summer, then Fall, then Winter. The year gone pff! like that, and miserable life flower desolated.
Mandarin—Before the honorable year goes pff! like that, you will be an exalted wife.
Kwen-lin—A wife! I, a wife?
Mandarin—For seventeen years of moons, your nurses and teachers have polished you into a state of passable excellence. You are very wonderful as foolish little girls go. You are something of a somebody.
Kwen-lin—But to what impressive man are my charms to be presented?