[The Curtains lifted, now disclose the same scene, but with the Gardener’s prophecy evidently fulfilled, for we seem to be on the outskirts of a dense forest of moss-roses. As we gaze on this, wondering what ever will come of it, we hear two voices, one which might properly belong, and proves so to do, to a charming Young Prince, while the other is that of his Tutor.]
The Prince.
This way! What ho, Mentor! This way! [He blows a blast on his horn.]
Mentor.
What ho! Oh, I’m nearly smothered! And I’m almost pricked to death! Where, in the name of forestry, are you?
The Prince.
Here! This way!... To the right! So! Here we are!
[They come from opposite directions, and meet on the outskirts of the thicket confronting us, and we now see that Prince Charming fully justifies his name, while Mentor is no doubt a tutor with excellent references. Each carries or drags a number of trophies in the way of arms and legs and other portions of the anatomy, or some piece of the outfit, of other Princes. They pause to rest.]
Mentor.
What a wild-goose chase! And so far, not even the ghost of a wild-goose! Only this human bric-a-brac! [Throws down his burden.]