But Your Highness, you are too kind. Why...

(The Kitchen. Cinderella stands on stage talking to a mop.)

Cinderella: But Your Highness, you are too kind. Why I would love to dance. I must warn you, though, that I am a little out of practice. Why Your Highness dances like an angel - or should I say a river sweeping me off my feet towards the horizon.

(She stops dancing.) No don't say that it sounds stupid.

(She curtseys to the mop.) Your Highness is too kind. Balls can be so frightfully tedious without amusing company - in my father's palace, of course, we have Hungarian gypsies to liven up the dull moments with conjuring tricks and sword fights. One gets so bored the rest of the time. (She pretends to yawn, but then stops again.) No, not like that Cinderella, he'll hate you.

What do princes like? Smile a lot. Don't say too much. Swoon slightly at the end of the dance. He'll sweep you up into his arms and kiss you. Oh Your Highness, we shouldn't. We have only just met. It isn't proper. (In a deeper voice) I am the prince. I define what is proper. No one would dare speak against the woman I would have as my wife.

(In normal voice again) Oh Your Highness, I have dreamt of such a moment as this. Kiss me again. (She kisses the mop.)

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