The Frog.
Not at all! How-do! How-do!
The Queen.
[Presenting.] The King. The Princess Royal. The Lord High Chancellor. The Court.
The Frog.
How-do! How-do! [The Butler approaches him and discreetly tries to get his storm-coat away from him, but he resists.] Let it alone!... I always carry it with me when I’m likely to be asked to stay to lunch.... [He pauses and coughs slightly. All do the same. He continues.] Sometimes the ladies next me complain of the damp!... These boots, too, they protect me from dripping and slipping! Slipping and dripping!
The Queen.
Most considerate! [She sits and indicates a seat which the Frog takes. All sit.] You come upon us in family conclave. We are trying to find a godfather for the Princess! [All cough meaningly.]
The Frog.