PRINCESS. Yes, but the trouble is that you _don't_ interrupt your
work.
WOODCUTTER (interrupting it and going up to her with a smile). Madam,
I am at your service.
PRINCESS. I wish I thought you were.
WOODCUTTER. Surely you have enough people at your service already.
Princes and Chancellors and Chamberlains and Waiting Maids.
PRINCESS. Yes, that's just it. That's why I want your help.
Particularly in the matter of the Princes.
WOODCUTTER. Why, has a suitor come for the hand of her Royal Highness?
PRINCESS. Three suitors. And I hate them all.
WOODCUTTER. And which are you going to marry?
PRINCESS. I don't know. Father hasn't made up his mind yet.
WOODCUTTER. And this is a matter which father--which His Majesty
decides for himself?
PRINCESS. Why, of course! You should read the History Books,
Woodcutter. The suitors to the hand of a Princess are always set some
trial of strength or test of quality by the King, and the winner
marries his daughter.
WOODCUTTER. Well, I don't live in a Palace, and I think my own
thoughts about these things. I'd better get back to my work. (He goes
on with his chopping.)
PRINCESS (gently, after a pause). Woodcutter!
WOODCUTTER (looking up). Oh, are you there? I thought you were married
by this time.
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