WOODCUTTER (to PRINCESS).  Go to her, but don’t show that you know me.

(He goes into the cottage, and the PRINCESS hastens to her father.)

PRINCESS.  Father!

KING.  Ah, my dear, you’re just in time.  Your mother—–­

PRINCESS.  My mother?

KING.  Yes, yes.  A little plan of mine—­of hers—­your poor mother. 
Dear, dear!

PRINCESS.  But what’s the matter?

KING.  She is suffering from a surfeit of bread, and—–­

(The WOODCUTTER comes up with a flagon of wine)

WOODCUTTER.  Poor old woman!  She has fainted from exhaustion.  Let me give her some—–­

QUEEN (shrieking).  No, no, not bread!  I will not have any more bread.

WOODCUTTER.  Drink this, my poor woman.

QUEEN (opening her eyes).  Did you say drink? (She seizes the flagon and drinks)

PRINCESS.  Oh, sir, you have saved my mother’s life!

WOODCUTTER.  Not at all.

KING.  I thank you, my man, I thank you.

QUEEN.  My deliverer!  Tell me who you are!

PRINCESS.  It is my mother, the Queen, who asks you.

WOODCUTTER (amazed, as well he may be).  The Queen!

KING.  Yes, yes.  Certainly, the Queen.

WOODCUTTER (taking off his hat).  Pardon, your Majesty.  I am a woodcutter, who lives alone here, far away from courts.

QUEEN.  Well, you’ve got more sense in your head than any of the
Princes that I’ve seen lately.  You’d better come to court.

PRINCESS (shyly).  You will be very welcome, sir.

QUEEN.  And you’d better marry the Princess.

KING.  Isn’t that perhaps going a little too far, dear?

QUEEN.  Well, you wanted kindness of heart in your son-in-law, and you’ve got it.  And he’s got common sense too. (To WOODCUTTER) Tell me, what do you think of bread as—­as a form of nourishment?

WOODCUTTER (cautiously).  One can have too much of it.

QUEEN.  Exactly my view. (To KING) There you are, you see.

KING.  Well, if you insist.  The great thing, of course, is that our darling child should be happy.

PRINCESS.  I will do my best, father. (She takes the WOODCUTTER’S hand.)

KING.  Then the marriage will take place this evening. (With a wave of his wand) Let the revels begin.

(They begin)

ACT II.—­OLIVER’S ISLAND

SCENE I.—­The Schoolroom (Ugh!)

(OLIVER is discovered lying flat on his—­well, lying flat on the floor, deep in a book.  The CURATE puts his head in at the door.)

CURATE.  Ah, our young friend, Oliver!  And how are we this morning, dear lad?

OLIVER (mumbling).  All right, thanks.

CURATE.  That’s well, that’s well.  Deep in our studies, I see, deep in our studies.  And what branch of Knowledge are we pursuing this morning?