Well, if they have to be wakened let’s go to work and waken them! Here, I’ll begin with the governess! [He approaches the Governess.] Miss! I regret to disturb you, Miss, but do you happen to know the date? Where was the first nail knocked, eh? How many scruples make a conscience? Bah! Things that I could answer in my sleep!
The Frogs.
[Stroking Sir Amphibious.] Dry as a bone, poor dear! Lucky we brought a wet sponge with us! [After repeated efforts to arouse their friend, they desist in despair.] Dear, dear, if we could only get him down to the marshes!
The Prince.
What can I do? [He appeals to the Hearts who sigh in response. He listens to them more closely.] What’s that? You want to sing! [He sets them in the window where they give the notes of the scale, like an Æolian harp.] Do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si—and the scale is closed by the echo in my own heart! What is it you sing,
King’s son, King’s son,
Nothing ventured, nothing won!
Forward! Forward! To your bliss!
Wake your Princess with your kiss!
[At this the Prince throws up his arm in an ecstasy of understanding, then reverently approaches the sleeping Moss-Rose, and, stooping, kisses her. The Hearts sigh in musical sympathy not unmixed with personal regret. Moss-Rose stirs slightly, then, by degrees wakens fully. Meanwhile the Prince stands aside. All waken.]