Head Cook:  Eh?

Prince:  Who told you I was called Red Pepper?

Head Cook:  You?

Prince:  Why, yes.  Did you not mean me?

Head Cook:  Why no.  I mean red pepper, from the pepper-pot (taking it off shelf).

Prince:  Strange, for that’s the name by which I’m known among my people.  Why—­sir—­how can red pepper help me against the Brownies.

DUET (Cook and Prince).

(Air:  “There Lived a King, as I’ve Been Told.”—­The Gondoliers.)

  Cook:  Now very hard it is to make
  A Brownie his bad ways forsake,
  For it’s a fact he takes the cake,
    If he can’t find the candy! 
  And if you clap your hands and shoo,
  He’ll only make a face at you;
  There’s only one thing you can do—­
    Just keep the pepper handy! 
  For, as a Brownie hates to sneeze,
  Or blow his nose if it should tease,
  Or any wholesome acts like these,
    He can’t abide Red Pepper!

  Prince:  Yet that’s the name that’s given me,
  For, as you all can plainly see,
  My hair is red as red can be—­
    In fact it’s fiery scarlet! 
  And as my hair, my temper is;
  So if a page my hair should quiz,
  I waste no time, but straight pull his,
    And thrash the saucy varlet! 
  So that is why the name I’ve got,
  And as, when I am waxing hot
  I frequently dismiss the lot,
    They can’t abide Red Pepper!

(A dance can be arranged here with Prince, Cook, Kitchenmaid and Cooklet.)

Kitchen:  Ah, sir, you will be brave and take the place?

Cooklet:  Oh, yes, dear, brave, kind handsome man!  Say, “Yes,” and calm our fluttering hearts!

Kitchen:  For if we saw a Brownie we should only scream!

Cooklet:  And die!

Prince:  Why, then, if there’s no choice save between myself and you poor maids, why—­I must do it.  So, sir, I’ll guard your pie to-night.

Cooklet:  O dear, good, kind young man!

Kitchen:  O noble, bold young man! (Both kneel gratefully.)

Head Cook:  Get up, I say, get up!  You kneel to me—­not to zis beggar fellow!  And you, sir, get these dishes washed quick, slick, for here ze Princess Fadeaway is coming with her ladies!

Prince:  The Princess coming! (He is agitated.)

Head Cook:  Yes.  Every Christmas night she comes to pat ze crust wiz her own fair fingers!

Prince:  Then I shall see her!

Head Cook:  Yes—­but you need not let zat discompose you—­she vill not notice you.  It is only to me she vill spik!  Because I am Head Cook!  I am like royalty—­only more so.  She comes—­she comes—­let each be in your place!  Now bow, all bow!

(A graceful march played.  Enter Princess Fadeaway, attended by Greening and Sweeting.  The Princess is a sweet-voiced, gentle little girl.  Her ladies are gorgeously attired, and walk and talk in a disagreeable, affected manner.)