each other's hands, as if we never had to let go and could go on forever singing in our hearts the same childish songs.
Third Daughter. We might sing if you like.
First and Second Daughters. Yes, yes! Do! What shall we sing?
Third Daughter. Whatever has least sense in it.
They join hands and move around in a ring with the Pages, singing.
Who has upset the fountain?
Laughing water.
Sparkling water,
A kiss for the king and a kiss for his daughter.
Skip! Hooray! Come Christmas!"
King Chuchurumbo enters.
Chuchurumbo. How now? What is this? Will you never learn sense? This is no way to get married.
Eldest Daughter. I don't want to get married.
Second Daughter. Neither do I.
Third Daughter. Oh, I do! I do!
Eldest Daughter. Why do you want to get married?
Third Daughter. So that I may wear beautiful clothes and jewels, and have golden carriages with white horses, and plumes of birds of paradise.
Eldest Daughter. How foolish! Suppose you should have a bad husband?
Second Daughter. Suppose you had lots of children and didn't have time to wear clothes?
Third Daughter. I should hire governesses for the children. And I should buy my husband a carriage—one of those that goes by itself—so that he might run off and amuse himself.
