CHILD: How does it feel to be a boy?

BARTHOLOMEW: I haven’t really thought about it. It feels normal, I suppose. What about for you, Majesty?

CHILD: It doesn’t feel very normal at all.

(Beat.)

BARTHOLOMEW: Would you like your tiara back? I could steal it for you.

CHILD: (Sulking.) No, thank you. The peasant boy doesn’t wear a tiara.

BARTHOLOMEW: But—

CHILD: I need to do math, Bartholomew.

BARTHOLOMEW: Of what use is math to a queen?

CHILD: (Correcting him.) Peasant boy.

BARTHOLOMEW: Merely a disguise, majesty. (No response.) And come to think of it… well, forgive me for saying so, Majesty, but you aren’t using your disguise very well.

CHILD: What do you mean?

BARTHOLOMEW: Well, if you’re going through all that trouble to stay hidden… you may as well use it to your advantage.

CHILD: To do