Part 6
How-do! How-do! [_The BUTLER approaches him and discreetly tries to get his storm-coat away from him, but he resists._] Let it alone!... I always carry it with me when I’m likely to be asked to stay to lunch.... [_He pauses and coughs slightly. All do the same. He continues._] Sometimes the ladies next me complain of the damp!... These boots, too, they protect me from dripping and slipping! Slipping and dripping!
THE QUEEN.
Most considerate! [_She sits and indicates a seat which the FROG takes. ALL sit._] You come upon us in family conclave. We are trying to find a godfather for the Princess! [_ALL cough meaningly._]
THE FROG.
My stars, what an extraordinary coincidence!
ALL.
[_Interested._] Eh? What’s that?
THE FROG.
Speaking of such things—Excuse me. [_He breaks off, and skipping toward the entrance, croaks very loud. He is answered by two smaller croaks, uttered by two small frogs, dressed like lackeys, who now enter, bearing a huge silver mug. This our FROG presents to the KING and QUEEN, after a suitable explanation._] This little token ... oh, a mere trifle, but, as you observe, solid silver and richly chased ... I found it at the bottom of a pond! It was probably dropped there by some prehistoric princess when babies were larger than they are nowadays! I fancied it might come in useful, so took the liberty...!
THE QUEEN.
How very, very kind!... My dear, isn’t it very, very kind?
THE KING.
Oh, very, very, very kind! Eh, my Lord High Chancellor?
THE CHANCELLOR.
Oh, very, very, very, very kind!
THE COURT.
Very, very, very, very, very kind!
THE KING.
It would make a lovely umbrella-stand!... I mean, of course, till the baby is large enough to drink from it!
THE FROG.
So glad you’re pleased!... Well, as it’s near my lunch hour I must be going!... Any time you’re near my pond just drop in!
THE QUEEN.
Oh, but you must stay! To lunch, and to the christening. We want you to be baby’s godfather; eh, my love?
THE KING.
Of course we do! I was saying so when you came in!
THE FROG.
That’s very nice of you. I can sing to the little one, you know! [_Croaks in imitation of an opera-singer._] I’m soloist in our glee-club, in the pond!
THE QUEEN.
Delightful! And I’m sure you can dance with those springy legs of yours!
THE FROG.
Good gracious, yes! I can lift any lady clear off her feet, and throw her plump into the fountain! [_He starts to dance, but the KING restrains him._]
THE KING.
Later you shall give us an exhibition of your skill. But first you must be knighted!... Is there a sword handy, my Lord?
THE CHANCELLOR.
Here, Sire! The carving-knife will serve! [_He gets the carving-knife from the table and hands it to the KING._]
THE FROG.
[_Shrinking back._] The carving-knife! Now, really I.... My skin is very sensitive, in spite of appearances!
THE KING.
Bless my soul, you needn’t be afraid! It was a wedding-present to myself and the Queen! There never was the slightest edge to it!... Will you kindly kneel as well as you can? [_THE FROG does so, and the KING gives him a slap with the flat of the blade, saying:_] Rise up, Sir Amphibious Batrachian of Pondmere, Baron Freshwater Warden of the Marshes, and Court Croaker Extraordinary!
ALL.
Hurrah! Three cheers for Sir Amphibious Batrachian of Pondmere, Baron Freshwater, Warden of the Marshes, and Court Croaker Extraordinary!
THE FROG.
Ha, ha! Pretty fine, eh, what? But to my intimates, as always, Frog, plain Frog!
THE KING.
And now to lunch. The christening shall be held as soon as the godmothers arrive.
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Who has been consulting one of his books._] Sire, there is one Wise Woman we omitted!
THE KING.
Her name?
THE CHANCELLOR.
She has several aliases, so that she can always prove an alibi! Envy, Hatred, Malice, and All-Uncharitableness! She is best known as Gossip, or Busy-Body!
THE KING.
Has she ever been presented here at Court?
THE CHANCELLOR.
Not yet, Sire, though she has repeatedly sought to be. She has never quite passed her examination on the Nine Points of Etiquette.
THE QUEEN.
It would make no difference if she had. I never would consent to receive such a person! Besides, we haven’t spoons and forks enough!
THE CHANCELLOR.
But, Madam, unless we conciliate her I fear she may make some trouble for the Princess!
THE QUEEN.
What, hurt my baby!
THE KING.
What, annoy my heiress-apparent!
THE FROG.
What, disturb my goddaughter!
THE COURT.
What, injure our Princess! [_ALL surround the NURSE and BABY protectingly._]
THE CHANCELLOR.
Really, I do think it would be advisable to placate the person!
THE FROG.
[_Waving his hand so as to splash the CHANCELLOR while speaking._] Now, my dear fellow, while I hate to throw cold water on your scheme, yet I will not stand for such measures! Reptile as technically I am, there are human toads I simply won’t associate with!
THE CHANCELLOR.
Oh, very well! [_He closes his huge volume with a bang._] And suppose the old gossip comes uninvited to the feast, what then?
THE FROG.
Tell her to meet me beside the fountain by moonlight, and I’ll hold her hand and give her the worst cold in her head she ever had, so that she won’t be able to put two and two words together! Is it for nothing I am Sir Amphibious Batrachian, etcetera, etcetera? [_He slaps his chest._]
THE QUEEN.
You dear! Oh, what a birthday! I’m so happy I could dance!
THE KING.
So could I!
THE FROG.
[_Prancing about._] Here we go round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush!
THE COURT.
Do look out for the baby!
THE FROG.
Put H. R. H. in a safe place! Here, in the christening-mug! [_Assisted by members of the COURT he lifts the NURSE with the BABY into the mug. THE GARDENER at this moment enters with a huge bunch of moss-roses._]
ALL.
[_Clapping their hands._]
Oh, moss-roses, moss-roses, for the Princess Moss-Rose!
[_Seizing the bouquet THE FROG tosses it into the mug, and instantly long festoons of the flowers stream out of this, as from a fountain. Laughing delightedly, ALL seize these, as if they were the ribbons of a Maypole. Outside, joy-bells ring and music sounds. THE BUTLER appears, beating on a gong. The mug with the BABY seen above its brim is borne aloft, and the gay procession passes on as the CURTAIN falls._]
THE SECOND EVENT
_THE SECOND EVENT takes place in the same hall. Everybody is now sixteen years older, for it is the sixteenth anniversary of the birth of the PRINCESS MOSS-ROSE. The christening mug stands in the centre of the floor and in it grows a beautiful moss-rose bush. THE HUNTING SONG again is heard, and when the CURTAIN rises we see the KING ready to start off on his day’s sport. To him comes the QUEEN somewhat hurriedly._
THE QUEEN.
My dear, surely you’re not going hunting to-day!
THE KING.
I had some idea of doing so, my love! The lions are complaining terribly that they don’t get enough exercise!
THE QUEEN.
But have you forgotten what day it is?
THE KING.
Surely not Sunday again! Now it isn’t sporty of Sunday to come round more than once a week! It’s taking advantage of its exalted standing and the respect we owe it!
THE QUEEN.
[_Laughing._] Will you never grow up? And our daughter sixteen years old to-day!
THE KING.
Bless my soul, I had forgotten!
MOSS-ROSE.
[_Enters singing happily._] Good-morning, father!
THE KING.
Good-morning, my darling!
MOSS-ROSE.
Aren’t you going to wish me many happy—
THE KING.
[_Interrupting._] Come, wish me many happy returns of the day!
MOSS-ROSE.
What, wish _you_ many happy returns of my birthday and mother’s?
THE KING.
Why not? Isn’t it always the happiest day of the year to me?
MOSS-ROSE.
[_Mischievously._] Thank you so much for your lovely present!
THE QUEEN.
Yes, indeed!
THE KING.
Eh? [_Puzzled._]
MOSS-ROSE.
We’ve been through your pockets, mother and I! And, oh, to think of finding a fine new meerschaum pipe, and my favourite brand of tobacco! [_She produces the articles._]
THE KING.
[_Slightly nettled and confused._] Now, really, Moss-Rose....
THE QUEEN.
And these six new neckties ... my favourite colours! [_She produces the articles._]
THE KING.
[_Recovering poise._] The pipe was for my prize elephant. And the ties were to be competed for in a scratch race—the spotted ones for the leopards and the striped ones for the zebras!
THE QUEEN AND MOSS-ROSE.
[_Laughing._] You dear! [_They kiss the KING and thrust their booty into his pockets._]
THE KING.
And now what’s the programme for the day’s festivities? A ball as usual to-night, I suppose!
THE QUEEN.
[_Hastily._] No, not to-night! Not till to-morrow!
MOSS-ROSE.
[_Pouting slightly._] Mother is so mysterious about it! Why should our celebration be put off till to-morrow? Put-off things are never quite so nice!
THE QUEEN.
It is only the dance that is postponed. You shall have your cake as usual! See; here comes the cook with it now!
[_ENTER the COOK bearing triumphantly aloft a huge cake decorated with candles, unlighted. He is followed respectfully by a KITCHEN-BOY carrying a lighted taper._]
THE COOK.
With the compliments of the Cook to Her Royal Highness Princess Moss-Rose! [_He sets the cake down on the table._] Now, Boy, do your duty, but don’t drop wax all over the place!
MOSS-ROSE.
Thank-you, dear Cooky! Oh, what a beauty it is!
[_ENTER the LORD CHANCELLOR followed by the GARDENER who bears a watering-pot. He is followed by a BOY who carries a small ladder._]
THE CHANCELLOR.
Good-morning to your Majesties, and to your Royal Highness!
KING, QUEEN AND PRINCESS.
Good-morning, my Lord High Chancellor!
THE CHANCELLOR.
My congratulations to Your Majesty [_to the QUEEN_] and to your Royal Highness!
QUEEN AND PRINCESS.
We thank you, my Lord High Chancellor!
THE GARDENER.
My homage to Your Majesties and to Your Royal Highness!
KING, QUEEN AND PRINCESS.
We thank you kindly, Court Gardener!
[_THE BOY sets the ladder against the christening mug, and mounting this the GARDENER waters the moss-rose bush in it. Instantly this shoots up several feet in height, broadening increasingly. ALL exclaim with admiration._]
THE GARDENER.
Ah, there’s nothing like it in the history of floriculture! And this the wee slip of a plant I was setting out the day our little Princess was born!
THE COOK.
[_Calling attention to the cake._] Sixteen, and one for luck!
THE GARDENER.
[_Approaching MOSS-ROSE with a bunch of the flowers that he has plucked._] Sixteen, and one for luck!
MOSS-ROSE.
How good you all are to me!
[_THE GARDENER and THE COOK followed by their attendants, go._]
THE CHANCELLOR.
Sixteen!... We soon shall be having to find a suitable alliance for our Princess!
THE KING.
Dear, dear, there you go again! I’ve been all over the map, and there’s nobody, positively nobody, that will do! They are all so ignorant; they only speak foreign languages! What do I want with a son-in-law who can only laugh at my jokes through an interpreter?
THE CHANCELLOR.
None the less, Sire, we cannot have our Princess remain a sp... er ... unmarried!
MOSS-ROSE.
[_With quick curiosity._] What is the word you were going to say, beginning with s-p?
THE CHANCELLOR.
Ahem! Pardon, my dear; I was not going to say anything of the sort! There is no word applicable to the situation beginning with s-p!
MOSS-ROSE.
Oh, but there is; a word that has been blotted out of all the dictionaries in my school-room!
THE KING.
[_Hastily._] By special Act of Parliament! Royal Prerogative, and all that, you know!
MOSS-ROSE.
It is the same way with music; some kinds of songs are blotted out for Princesses, it seems! There was the prettiest song I came upon. It sounded buzz, buzz, buzz, like the turning of a wheel! But my teacher said that I must never, never sing it! Now why not, I wonder!
[_THE OTHERS exchange anxious glances._]
THE QUEEN.
Everything shall be explained to you to-morrow! Go to your room now, dear, and you will find there the linen chest we have been preparing for your dowry, ready for the time Prince Charming comes to claim your hand!
THE GOVERNESS.
[_Entering with a fine table-cloth in her hand._] Madam, I brought a table-cloth to show you the marking ... a moss-rose!
THE QUEEN.
[_Approving._] That is right! See, daughter! The finest linen ever sp... manufactured!
MOSS-ROSE.
How is linen-thread sp-manufactured?
ALL.
[_Hastily._] It isn’t!
MOSS-ROSE.
[_Persisting._] Linen is woven of thread; that I know. And thread is made of flax, and flax grows in the garden; that I know! But how is flax made into thread? No one ever will answer me that! And it has been blotted out of the encyclopedia!
[_There is a slight pause._]
THE KING.
Come, come, child; trust your parents to-day, and to-morrow I’ll sp... I’ll reel you a long yarn about it!
MOSS-ROSE.
There again! Everyone begins a word with s-p, and then stops short as if they had bumped their heads or stubbed their toes against it!
[_ENTER THE FROG in a bathrobe under which it is seen that he wears a bathing-suit._]
THE FROG.
Good-morning, friends! Congratulations to those to whom congratulations are due, eh, what?
THE KING.
Morning, old man!
THE QUEEN.
[_At the same time._] Thank you, dear Sir Amphibious!
THE CHANCELLOR.
Good-morning, Sir Amphibious!
MOSS-ROSE.
Oh, godfather, where are you going? Not to your pond again?
THE FROG.
Only for a dip, my dear! Truth is I’m feeling rather dry!
THE CHANCELLOR.
Can’t I ring for a glass of water for you?
THE FROG.
My dear fellow! Do give me credit for some command of proper language! Even reptiles know that dry refers to the outside, while for the inner man one says thirsty!
MOSS-ROSE.
Oh, stay and play with me!
THE FROG.
When I’ve had my dip! Till I’ve had my dip I’m poor company; my head positively sp— [_He stops short, then lamely finishes_] aches! Turns round and round, you know!
MOSS-ROSE.
Isn’t there a word that means all that; turns round and round, you know! Something beginning with s-p?
THE FROG.
Not in Court circles! [_There is a slight pause._] Let me go now, there’s a love, and I’ll bring you something pretty from the bottom of the pond!
THE GOVERNESS.
Come, dear, and see your linen chest!
MOSS-ROSE.
[_Going with the GOVERNESS._] Even my godfather, my pet Froggy, bites his tongue off sooner than finish the mysterious word beginning with s-p! [_She goes with the GOVERNESS. Those who remain look at one another meaningly._]
THE KING.
I wonder if we hadn’t better have told the child all along!
THE FROG.
That was my advice, as you know!
THE QUEEN.
Perhaps it would have been wiser, but how can one inform a beloved child of a threatened danger?
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Turning over the volumes._] Most perplexing! A situation absolutely without precedent!
THE KING.
Well, after all, it is only getting through this day, and then we can all breathe freely forever after! Suppose we summon the Court and arrange what measures must be taken for the safety of the Princess! Eh, my Lord?
THE CHANCELLOR.
That seems quite lucid, Sire; in fact, almost sensible!... I mean, er.... [_He rings and the BUTLER appears immediately._] Summon the ladies and gentlemen of the Court! [_THE BUTLER disappears. There is a bugle-call outside._]
THE QUEEN.
It’s too ridiculous, but ever since I wakened this morning I have seemed to hear a buzz-buzz-buzz, whir-r-r, humm-m-m, just as if there were a sp—one of the things concealed in the room!
THE OTHERS.
So have I! [_The faint, very faint sound of a spinning-wheel is heard and a soft voice crooning the SPIN-WHEEL SONG. ALL start._] There it is now!
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Recovering himself._] Imagination! Why, there isn’t one in existence in the kingdom!
[_THE LORDS and LADIES enter, and take ceremonial positions, bowing and curtseying to their MAJESTIES. The KING and QUEEN sit, motioning all to do likewise. ALL obey. THE KING then begins._]
THE KING.
My Lords and Ladies.... This, as you know, is the sixteenth anniversary of the birth of our beloved daughter, the Princess Moss-Rose. For the benefit of such of you as were not here when Heaven sent her to us we will rehearse an incident that then took place. To her christening feast as godmothers were bidden all the Good Fairies and Wise Women in our kingdom—
THE FROG.
—to co-operate with me as godfather! I held the child at the font!
THE KING.
There were twelve of these ladies.
THE CHANCELLOR.
Thirteen, Sire!
THE KING.
True, but thirteen is an unlucky number! That is why I suppressed one!
THE QUEEN.
And the thirteenth wasn’t a nice person at all! Not at all! Besides we had only a dozen extra spoons and forks!
THE KING.
But all the same, this Dame Envy-Hatred-Malice-and-All-Uncharitableness got wind of the affair and came uninvited!
THE CHANCELLOR.
Oh, if you had only let me manage it!
THE KING.
Well—she came!
THE QUEEN.
She wasn’t at all nice! And I didn’t like the way she was dressed one bit! Not one bit!
THE KING.
Our valued Sir Amphibious presented the mug—[_Indicates the mug._] Sterling silver and richly chased!
THE FROG.
Aye, indeed! I chased it round and round the pond when it was first dropped in, for at least three centuries!
THE KING.
The twelve godmothers bestowed good wishes on our child—
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Referring to a volume._] Entered over their own signatures in the guest-book. The kindest wishes, though expressed in verse of an impromptu and inferior cast!
THE KING.
But the uninvited and unwelcome one revenged herself by putting on our child a curse! [_ALL echo, “A curse!”_] Read it, my Lord Chancellor!
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Referring to volume._] That on the sixteenth anniversary of her birth the Princess Moss-Rose should prick her finger with the spindle of a spinning-wheel, and die of the wound. [_ALL, even those who are familiar with the story, exclaim with horror._]
THE KING.
No wonder you shudder! No wonder tongue and pen alike recoil from chronicling the incident! However, our dear Sir Amphibious exercised his prerogative, in also making for our child a wish.
THE QUEEN.
So sweet of him when he had already given the mug!
THE FROG.
Oh, don’t mention it! What godfather under like circumstances would not do the same? I could not unwish the old hag’s wish, but at least it was within my humble powers to modify it!
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Referring to the volume._] Sir Amphibious fortunately was able to cross out the unpleasant word _die_ and substitute for it, _sleep for a term not exceeding one hundred years_!
THE FROG.
That’s it! A mere bagatelle, one hundred years, when measured up with eternity, eh, what!
THE KING.
But, even so, do we want the light of our eyes and sunshine of our lives suspended for a century!
ALL.
[_With emphasis._] No!
THE QUEEN.
Even suppose that the King and I were to survive it, it would be most awkward to introduce to society a débutante Princess of a hundred and sixteen years of age!
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Shaking his head mournfully._] The only suitable alliance would be found in a Home for Aged Princes! It is true that some of the abdicated ones are in an excellent state of preservation, but it isn’t the same thing!
ALL.
Not at all the same thing!
THE KING.
To prevent these little contre-tempses, as the French call them, I forthwith issued a proclamation—
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Referring to volume._] All spinning-wheels to be banished from the kingdom—
THE QUEEN.
It has made the price of household linen dreadfully high, but what else could we do?
THE CHANCELLOR.
[_Continuing, from volume._] The word _spin_ with all its variants to be blotted from dictionaries, dropped from conversation. To compose or sing a spinning-wheel song a capital offence. All spinsters to choose between death or matrimony!
THE QUEEN.
And all of the self-sacrificing dears chose matrimony! So loyal of them!
THE KING.
Now while we flatter ourselves that our Anti-spindle campaign has been an unqualified success, yet there is this day with its fatal possibilities to be safely passed through! The question before us is, how best to guard the Princess from the one chance in a million-billion that a spindle yet exists!
THE FROG.
Let her spend it with me at the bottom of the pond! [_ALL murmur appreciatively._]
THE QUEEN.
How dear of you! But she isn’t used to the damp!
THE KING.
Besides, someone might have thrown a spinning-wheel, or just the spindle, into it, you know!
ALL.
[_Considering._] That’s true!
THE CHANCELLOR.
So long as there’s no precedent to go by, suppose we ourselves adopt an original measure. Suppose we take the Princess into our confidence so that she can herself be on her guard! [_This gives rise to murmurs, some approving, others dissenting._]
THE KING.
It’s rather radical, not to say subversive, to teach young people anything that isn’t perfectly pleasant, but—isn’t it best to let them find out for themselves that roses have thorns?
THE CHANCELLOR.
Hardly, Sire, considering the price of the prick!
THE FROG.
That’s what I have always said!
THE QUEEN.
Yes, but then you two haven’t the feelings of a mother! If you think there are no pricks, why, then there are none!... Ouch! What was that?
THE KING.
Oh, nothing, my love! I only stuck a pin into your arm to test your theory!
THE QUEEN.
But it isn’t a fair test unless you tell that you are going to do it, so that I can make up my mind not to feel it!
THE KING.
I see! Well, but to come back to the question, who is to tell our child of the peril in which she stands?
THE QUEEN.
Why, you, of course! You are head of the family!
THE KING.
Only when there’s something unpleasant to be done! When it’s a matter of buying new head-gear, Paris hats, and all that, who is head of the family then, I’d like to know!—However, I suppose I had better take the child into the library, and say: “My child, I do not wish to alarm you, but—” [_ALL murmur, protesting against this._] Oh, very well, then! Someone else will have to do it!
THE CHANCELLOR.
Couldn’t it be led up to diplomatically, Sire? Use tact! As thus: “How pretty you look to-day, my little daughter! Which reminds me; speaking of the uncertainty of life—” [_Again ALL protest._] Oh, as you please! I only threw out the suggestion!
THE FROG.
Why not be playful? Introduce death jocosely into the conversation! Begin with dead letters and go on to the dead languages! Ask her how long a dead-weight is! And if a dead-lock grows on a dead-head! [_Again ALL protest strongly._] Oh, very well! Do it your own way!
THE KING.
Why can’t the child’s governess teach her all about it? It seems to me it is a matter of education, entirely!
THE GOVERNESS.
Pardon, Sire. Questions concerning life and death were strictly barred from the curriculum on which my diploma was obtained!
THE KING.
Well, something has to be done; that’s clear!
ALL.
Yes, that’s clear!
THE KING.
But what? And how? That’s the question!
ALL.
Yes, that’s the question!
THE QUEEN.
I have an idea! Let us all tell her, together, in concert! [_ALL assent._] Let us all begin, “My dear little Moss-Rose—Our dear little Moss-Rose—”
ALL.
[_Clap hands._] Oh, excellent!
THE KING.
Yes! Well, and then—?
THE QUEEN.
Yes; what then?
ALL.
Yes; what then?
THE NURSE.
Madam, if I may make so bold—
THE QUEEN.
Well, nurse? What have you to suggest?
THE NURSE.
The Princess has always been keen about fairy-stories! Why not tell it to her, each contributing a bit, as if it were a fairy-story? Begin, Once upon a time!
[_ALL exclaim, interested._]
THE QUEEN.
But, my dear soul; this is true! How can we pretend about it?
[_ALL agree to this view of the matter._]
THE NURSE.
Madam, it’s by pretending that truth is a fairy-story we make children know it’s true!
THE QUEEN.
Nurse, you’re a darling, but so old-fashioned! Fairy-stories don’t happen nowadays, do they, Sir Amphibious?
THE FROG.
My old grandmother, Mother Goose, believes in them! But then, she’s a Mother Goose!
THE GARDENER.