of clean clothes. Fairy stories say nothing about these things. Princes ride through forests and scale mountains, they are caught in terrible showers, they swim lakes and ford rivers, but they never soil their clothes.
Tony. Does that immunity extend to their servants?—because I should hate to have anything happen to this coat, which is the best of the two that I have.
King. Come, you must hurry and be off before nightfall.
Prince. My father and my lord! My mother!…
Queen. Write every day.
Tutor. But will the letters arrive?
Queen. Yes, the King has given strict orders to assure prompt delivery of the mails.
Tutor. Not so bad! The public always profits somehow from the travelling of princes.
Queen. Good-by! Good-by! You have not forgotten the milk of magnesia?
King. Oh, woman, woman! Will you never learn how to attach to a moment proper dignity and importance?
Tutor. Your Majesty, can anything be more important than these homely cares of a mother?
All. Good-by! Good-by! Good-by!
