SE. The Princess never has sisters. She has suitors.

MELISANDE (with a sigh). Yes, she has suitors.

GERVASE (taking out his dagger). Tell me their names that I may remove
them for you.

MELISANDE. There is one dressed in black and white who seeks to win my
hand.

GERVASE (feeling the point). He bites the dust to-morrow.

MELISANDE. To-morrow?

GERVASE. Unless it rains in the night. Perhaps it would be safer if we
arranged for him to bite it this afternoon.

MELISANDE. How brave you are!

GERVASE. Say no more. It will be a pleasure.

MELISANDE. Ah, but I cannot ask you to make this sacrifice for me.

GERVASE. The sacrifice will be his.

MELISANDE. But are you so certain that _you_ will kill him? Suppose he
were to kill _you_?

GERVASE (getting up). Madam, when the third son of a humble woodcutter
engages in mortal combat with one upon whom the beautiful Princess has
frowned, there can be but one end to the struggle. To doubt this would
be to let Romance go.

MELISANDE. You are right. I should never have doubted.

GERVASE. At the same time, it would perhaps be as well to ask the help
of my Uncle Otto.

MELISANDE. But is it fair to seek the assistance of an uncle in order
to kill one small black and white suitor?

GERVASE. Ah, but he is a wizard. One is always allowed to ask the help
of a wizard. My idea was that he should cast a spell upon the
presumptuous youth who seeks to woo you, so that to those who gazed
upon him he should have the outward semblance of a rabbit. He would
then realise the hopelessness of his suit and . . . go away.

MELISANDE (with dignity). I should certainly never marry a small black
and white rabbit.

GERVASE. No, you couldn't, could you?

MELISANDE (gravely). No. (Then their eyes meet. There is a twinkle in
his; hers respond; and suddenly they are laughing together.) What
nonsense you talk!

GERVASE. Well, it's such an absurdly fine morning, isn't it? There's a
sort of sparkle in the air. I'm really trying to be quite sensible.

MELISANDE (making room for him at her feet). Go on talking nonsense.
(He sits down on the ground and leans against the log at her side.)
Tell me about yourself. You have told me nothing yet, but that (she
smiles at him) your father is a woodcutter.

GERVASE. Yes. He--er--cuts wood.

MELISANDE. And you resolved to go out into the world and seek your
fortune?

GERVASE. Yes. You see if you are a third son of a humble woodcutter,
nobody thin