From treading the wheel! From treading the wheel!
HANGING-LIP. You'd never be sorry to take me for your bride, my lord.
PRINCE (_not heeding_). Why is your lip so long?
HANGING-LIP. From moistening the thread! From moistening the thread!
BROAD-THUMB. You'd never be sorry to take me for your bride, my lord.
PRINCE (_not heeding_). Why is your thumb so broad?
BROAD-THUMB. From pressing the thread! From pressing the thread!
[_The Prince turns to Isabel._]
FLAT-FOOT (_quickly_). Isabel does naught but gaze and gaze, on flowers and
trees and running brooks. Ha, ha, ha!
PRINCE. Is this true, Isabel?
ISABEL (_timidly_). Yes, Prince.
HANGING-LIP. She says these flowers and trees and running brooks do sing
her songs. Ha, ha, ha!
PRINCE. Is this true, Isabel?
ISABEL (_as before_). Yes, Prince.
BROAD-THUMB. And she begs leave to write down these songs. Ha, ha, ha!
[ILLUSTRATION: THE PRINCE SEES THE THREE GREAT-AUNTS]
PRINCE. Is this true, Isabel?
ISABEL (_hanging head_). Yes, Prince.
PRINCE. Isabel, hang not your head. I'll give you time to write your songs.
QUEEN. My son--
PRINCE (_interrupting_). Nay, nay, mother! The songs please me better than
the flat-foot and the hanging-lip and the broad-thumb of the spinners.
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