(But he goes on with his work.)
PRINCESS (after a pause). Good morning, Woodcutter.
WOODCUTTER. Good morning.
PRINCESS. Don't you ever say anything except good morning?
WOODCUTTER. Sometimes I say good-bye.
PRINCESS. You _are_ a cross woodcutter to-day.
WOODCUTTER. I have work to do.
PRINCESS. You are still cutting wood? Don't you ever do anything else?
WOODCUTTER. Well, you are still a Princess; don't _you_ ever do
anything else?
PRINCESS (reproachfully). Now, that's not fair, Woodcutter. You can't
say I was a Princess yesterday, when I came and helped you stack your
wood. Or the day before, when I tied up your hand where you had cut
it. Or the day before that, when we had our meal together on the
grass. Was I a Princess then?
WOODCUTTER. Somehow I think you were. Somehow I think you were saying
to yourself, "Isn't it sweet of a Princess to treat a mere woodcutter
like this?"
PRINCESS. I think you're perfectly horrid. I've a good mind never to
speak to you again. And--and I would, if only I could be sure that you
would notice I wasn't speaking to you.
WOODCUTTER. After all, I'm just as bad as you. Only yesterday I was
thinking to myself how unselfish I was to interrupt my work in order
to talk to a mere Princess.
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