(_She stamps._)
KING. The Lord Mayor will now apply the test.
LORD MAYOR (_to a gold page_). The therm-mo-ometers, boy!
(_A whole boxful of thermometers is presented to him by
the page on bended knee. The_ LORD MAYOR _is now in his
element. He has ridden in gold coaches and knows what
hussies young women often are. To dainty music he trips up
the line of beauties and pops a tube into each pouting
mouth. The competitors circle around, showing their paces
while he stands, watch in hand, giving them two minutes.
Then airily he withdraws the tubes; he is openly gleeful
when he finds sinners. Twice he is in doubt, it is a very
near thing, and he has to consult the_ KING _in whispers:
the_ KING _takes the_ QUEEN _aside, to whisper behind
the door as it were; then they both look at_ LORD TIMES,
_who, without even stepping forward, says ‘No’—and the
doubtfuls are at once bundled out of the chamber with the
certainties. Royalty sighs, and the courtiers sigh and
the_ LORD MAYOR _sighs in a perfunctory way, but there
is a tossing of manes from the beauties who have scraped
through_.)
KING (_stirring up the_ PRINCE, _who has fallen asleep_). Our Royal
Bud will now graciously deign to pick out a few possibles.
(_His Royal Highness yawns._)
LORD MAYOR (_obsequiously_). If your Highness would like a little
assistance—
PRINCE (_you never know how they will take things_). We shall do
this for ourselves, my good fellow.
(_He smacks the_ LORD MAYOR’S _face with princely elegance.
The_ LORD MAYOR _takes it as a favour, and the courtiers
gently smack each other’s faces and are very proud to
be there. The_ PRINCE _moves languidly down the line of
beauties considering their points, occasionally nodding
approval but more often screwing up his nose. The courtiers
stand ready with nods or noses. Several ladies think
they have been chosen, but he has only brought them into
prominence to humiliate them; he suddenly says ‘Good-bye,’
and they have to go, while he is convulsed with merriment.
He looks sharply at the courtiers to see if they are
convulsed also, and they are. The others are flung out._)
QUEEN (_hanging on to her strap_). Does our Royal one experience no
palpitation at all?
PRINCE (_sleepily_). Ah me, ah me!
LORD TIMES (_irritated_). You’re well called ’Ard-to-Please. You
would turn up your nose at a lady though she were shaped like
Apollo’s bow.
(_The_ PRINCE _shrugs his shoulder to indicate that love
cannot be forced_.)
LORD MAYOR (_darkly_). And now we come to the severer test.
(_With a neat action, rather like taking a lid off a pot,
the_ LORD MAYOR _lets it be known to the ladies that
they must now lift their skirts to show their feet. When
this devastating test is concluded, there are only two
competitors left in the room._)
LORD TIMES (_almost as if he were thinking of himself_). Can’t have
Two.
(_Cards such as_ CINDERELLA _saw at the horse show, with
‘1st,’ ‘2nd,’ and ‘3rd’ on them, are handed to the_ PRINCE.
_Like one well used to such proceedings, he pins 2nd and
3rd into the ladies’ bodices._)
QUEEN (_gloomily_). But still no first.
(_The_ CHILDREN _applaud; they have been interfering
repeatedly_.)
KING. Come, come, proud youth, you feel no palps at all?
PRINCE. Not a palp. Perhaps for a moment this one’s nose—that one’s
cock of the head—But it has passed.
(_He drearily resumes his rocking chair. No one seems to
know what to do next._)
MARIE (_to the rescue_). The two Ugly Sisters! Monsieur le Roi, the
two Ugly Sisters! (_She points derisively at the winners._)
KING (_badgered_). How did these children get their invites?
(_This is another thing that no one knows. Once more the
room rocks, and_ MR. BODIE _passes across it as if looking
for some one. Then a growing clamour is heard outside.
Bugles sound. The_ LORD MAYOR _goes and returns with
strange news_.)
LORD MAYOR. Another competitor, my King. Make way for the Lady
Cinderella!
KING. Cinderella? I don’t know her.
GLADYS (_nearly falling out of the box_). You’ll soon know her. Now
you’ll see! Somebody wake the Prince up.
(_The portals are flung open, and_ CINDERELLA _is seen
alighting from her lovely equipage, which we will not
describe because some one has described it before. But
note the little waggle of her foot just before she favours
the ground. We have thought a great deal about how our_
CINDERELLA _should be dressed for this occasion: white of
course, and she looked a darling in it, but we boggle at
its really being of the grandest stuff and made in the shop
where the Beauties got theirs. No, the material came from
poorer warehouses in some shabby district not far from the
street of the penny shop; her eyes had glistened as she
gazed at it through the windows, and she paid for it with
her life’s blood, and made the frock herself. Very possibly
it was bunchy here and there._
CINDERELLA _then comes sailing down into the ball-room, not
a sound to be heard except the ecstatic shrieks of the four
children. She is modest but calmly confident; she knows
exactly what to do. She moves once round the room to show
her gown, then curtseys to the Royal personages; then,
turning to the_ LORD MAYOR, _opens her mouth and signs to
him to pop in the thermometer. He does it as in a dream.
Presently he is excitedly showing the thermometer to the_
KING.)
KING. Marvellous! 99!
(_The cry is repeated from all sides. The_ QUEEN _hands
the_ KING _a long pin from her coiffure, and the_ PRINCE
_is again wakened_.)
PRINCE (_with his hand to his brow_). What, another! Oh, all right;
but you know this is a dog’s life. (_He goes to_ CINDERELLA, _takes
one glance at her and resumes his chair_.)
LORD MAYOR (_while the children blub_). That settles it, I think.
(_He is a heartless fellow._) That will do. Stand back, my girl.
CINDERELLA (_calmly_). I don’t think.
KING. It’s no good, you know.
CINDERELLA (_curtseying_). Noble King, there is two bits of me
thy son hath not yet seen. I crave my rights. (_She points to the
two bits referred to, which are encased in the loveliest glass
slippers._)
KING. True. Boy, do your duty.
PRINCE. Oh, bother!
(_Those words are the last spoken by him in his present
state. When we see him again, which is the moment
afterwards, he is translated. He looks the same, but so
does a clock into which new works have been put. The change
is effected quite simply by_ CINDERELLA _delicately raising
her skirt and showing him her foot. As the exquisite nature
of the sight thus vouchsafed to him penetrates his being a
tremor passes through his frame; his vices take flight from
him and the virtues enter. It is a heady wakening, and he
falls at her feet. The courtiers are awkward, not knowing
whether they should fall also._ CINDERELLA _beams to the
children, who utter ribald cries of triumph_.)
KING (_rotating on his strap_). Give him air! Fill your lungs, my
son!
QUEEN (_on hers_). My boy! My boy!
LORD MAYOR (_quickly taking the royal cue_). Oh, lady fair!
(_The_ PRINCE’S _palpitations increase in violence_.)
QUEEN. Oh, happy sight!
KING. Oh, glorious hour!
LORD MAYOR (_not sure that he was heard the first time_). Oh, lady
fair!
(_The_ PRINCE _springs to his feet. He is looking very
queer_.)
LORD TIMES (_probably remembering how he looked once_). The Prince
is about to propose!
LORD MAYOR. O yes, O yes, O yes!
KING. Proceed, my son.
PRINCE (_with lover-like contortions and addressing himself largely
to the feet_). Dew of the morning, garden of delight, sweet petals
of enchanted nights, the heavens have opened and through the chink
thou hast fallen at my feet, even as I fall at thine. Thou art not
one but twain, and these the twain—Oh, pretty feet on which my lady
walks, are they but feet? O no, O no, O no! They are so small I
cannot see them. Hie! A candle that I may see my lady’s feet!
(_He kisses one foot, and she holds up the other for similar
treatment._)
O Cinderella, if thou wilt deign to wife with me, I’ll do my best
to see that through the years you always walk on kisses.
(_The courtiers resolve to walk on kisses for evermore._)
LORD MAYOR. The Prince has proposed. The Lady Cinderella will now
reply.
KING. Lovely creature, take pity on my royal son.
QUEEN. Cinderella, be my daughter.
LORD TIMES (_succinctly_). Yes, or no?
CINDERELLA. There’s just one thing. Before I answer, I would like
that little glass thing to be put in his mouth.
LORD MAYOR (_staggered_). The Ther-mo-mo-meter?
KING. In our _Prince’s_ mouth!
LORD TIMES. Why not?
CINDERELLA. Just to make sure that he is good.
PRINCE (_with a sinking_). Oh, I say!
QUEEN. Of course he is good, Cinderella—he is our son.
CINDERELLA (_doggedly_). I would like it put in his mouth.