[As they go out, to Sir Bors.] Gramercy, but a good game was spoiled! I had you mated in three moves!
Sir Bors.
Not so! I had your queen in forfeit!
Sir Bleoberis.
Ah, the Queen, the Queen! ’Tis ever the Queen that will make or mar the fortunes of the King!
[From the banqueting-hall one hears the sounds of merry-making subdued, and the strains of minstrelsy, as an heroic lay is sung to the accompaniment of the harp.]
Guinevere.
Now let saddle horses, and guided by you, good damosel, I will follow after my lord!... Hark! I hear an horn!... Arthur!
[The winding notes of the horn are heard.]
The Little Page.