The King.
[Trying to catch Moss-Rose.] My precious one, come to your father!
The Queen.
[Also trying to catch her.] My baby, come hide your head in mother’s lap where you won’t hear it!
Moss-Rose.
[Eluding capture.] Oh, but I want to hear it! It is beautiful, but terrible! Terrible, but beautiful! It is drawing me away from you all! Oh, now I begin to understand! Strange voices are telling me the word you all bump your heads and stub your poor toes against!—Consider the lilies of the field, How they grow! That’s what the archbishop preached about. They toil not, he said, neither do they sp— Then he broke off, just as everybody does, as if a thread were snapped when anyone said something beginning with s-p!
The Chancellor.
Your Royal Highness—my precious Princess—Listen! I’ll explain! Oh, listen to your old friend!
Moss-Rose.
I’d like to please you, my dear Lord, but—buzz, whir—sp-p—