[Lord Cullen signs to her to sing, and she stands before the dais and sings a verse of “Bedlam.”

Lord Cullen. [Impatiently.] No, no—­that is not in the least what I remember. [Turning to rose.] You try now.

Rose.  I don’t sing, my lord—­but—­[Indicating another girl in the group] she has a sweet voice, and she knows a powerful lot of songs.

[A girl steps out from the others and sings a verse of “The Lark in the Morn.”

Lord Cullen.  Not that.  Mine was a song to stir the depths of a man’s heart and bring tears up from the fountains of it.

[He leans back in deep dejection—­and at this moment lady Millicent and Alice come forward.

Lord Cullen. [Eagerly.] I seem to know that russet skirt—­those bare, small feet. [Standing up quickly.] Mother, look at that maid with the red kerchief on her head.

Lady Cullen.  Some sort of a gipsy dress, to all appearance.

Lord Cullen. [Doubtfully.] The skirt she wore was torn and ragged—­ that day in the forest.  She had no gold rings to her ears, nor silken scarf upon her head—­But this might be her dress for holidays.

[Jockie advances and begins to play the tune of “Princess Royal.”

Lord Cullen. [Eagerly.] That is the right music—­O is it possible my quest is ended!

[Lady Millicent and Alice, standing opposite one to another begin to dance—­slowly and clumsily, and in evident doubt as to their steps.  Lord Cullen watches them for a moment and then claps his hands angrily as a sign for the music to stop.  The dancers pause.

Lord Cullen.  This is a sad mimicry of my beautiful love.  But there lies something behind the masquerade which I shall probe.

[He leaves the dais and goes straight towards lady Millicent, who turns from him in confusion.

Lord Cullen.  From whom did you take the manner and the colour of your garments, my maid?

[Lady Millicent remains obstinately silent.

Lord Cullen. [To Alice.] Perhaps you have a tongue in your head. 
From whom did you try to learn those steps?

[Alice turns sulkily away.  Jockie comes forward.

Jockie.  I’ll tell your lordship all about it, and I’ll take your lordship straight to the right wench, that I will, if so be as your lordship will give a shilling to a poor little swine-herd what goes empty and hungered most of the year round.

Lord Cullen.  A handful of gold, my boy, if you lead me rightly.

[Jockie leads the way to the tree where Susan is sitting.  She stands up as lord Cullen approaches, and for a moment they gaze at one another in silence.