u know where to hide--behind those
curtains there.

THREE GREAT-AUNTS (_nodding_). Aye, we know!

[_A noise is heard in the distance._]

ISABEL. Some one comes!

(_She runs to the door, opens it, and looks out._)

The Prince comes down the stairs! Quick, aunts, quick!

FLAT-FOOT (_rising_). Well, 't is finished!

ISABEL (_looking into hall_). Now comes the Queen! To the curtains, quick!

[_The three Great-Aunts hide behind the curtains, just as the_ QUEEN _and
the_ PRINCE _enter._]

QUEEN. Well, have you finished?

ISABEL (_pointing to a pile of thread_). There's the last of it, your
Majesty.

QUEEN (_looking at thread_). Spun in the finest style, too! Prince, but a
week ago these rooms were filled with flax. Now look at them.

PRINCE (_looking about_). Empty, as if flax had never been here. 'T is
wonderful how one maid could do so much!

QUEEN. 'T is most wonderful!

PRINCE. The wedding shall take place to-day. Isabel, come now with us.

ISABEL (_thoughtfully_). No, no! I cannot!

PRINCE. You cannot?

QUEEN. You cannot! What do you mean?

ISABEL (_to the Queen_). Let me go home, your Majesty!

QUEEN. Go home!

ISABEL. I am not worthy--

PRINCE (_interrupting_). Nonsense! That you are poor is nothing to me.

QUEEN (_going_). Come, the wedding bells shall ring at once!

ISABEL. Your Majesty--I--I--did not spin the flax.

QUEEN. What! You did not spin the flax?

PRINCE. What is this?

ISABEL. I deceived you--I can scarcely spin at all.

QUEEN. But this pile of thread here--

ISABEL. 'T was spun by another.

PRINCE. Another?

ISABEL. Yes, Prince.

QUEEN. You shall marry that one then, my son!

(_To Isabel._)

As for you, return to your hovel!

(_Isabel turns to go._)

Stay!

(_Isabel stops._)

Who is the wonderful spinner? Tell us where to find her.

ISABEL. Here, your Majesty.

QUEEN. Hidden away, I suppose?

ISABEL (_nodding_). Yes, your Highness, behind those curtains.

QUEEN. Go, my son, and draw the curtains. You shall be the first to look
upon your bride.

[_The Prince draws the curtains and sees the three Great-Aunts, who sit in
a row. They smile and smile upon the Prince, who stands looking at them in
astonishment._]

FLAT-FOOT. You'd never be sorry to take me for your bride, my lord.

PRINCE (_not heeding_). Why is your foot so flat?

FLAT-FOOT. From treading the wheel! From treading the wheel!

HANGING-LIP. You'd never be sorry to take me for your bri