Summer. I know they did not mean an insult. Do, I beg, forgive the seeming injury.
Winter. No, not I. ’Tis not the first time the court has slighted me; but I can promise this, ’twill be the last.
Three Fairies. [In chorus, shaking heads sadly.] Oh, dear! Oh, deary me!
Spring. But always, Cousin, you have shown yourself so disagreeable at court; perhaps they fear you now.
Winter. And well they may. They’ll have good cause for fear. [Exit.]
Autumn. How cross she is! She’ll cause serious trouble, too, I know.
Spring. Let us then keep watch of her. Be ready to undo the harm. Come, to send our answers to the court.
[As they dance off, Curtain falls.]
