by Unknown
The panoply of the throne is about twenty feet high — each foot of pure gold; and nested on the top of it is a golden reproduction of the grandest thing CINDERELLA has ever seen — the private box of a theatre. In this box sit, wriggle, and sprawl the four children in their nightgowns, leaning over the golden parapet as if to the manner born and carelessly kicking nuggets out of it. They are shouting, pointing, and otherwise behaving badly, eating oranges out of paper bags, then blowing out the bags and bursting them. The superb scene is lit by four street lamps with red glass. Dancing is going on: the ladies all in white, the gentlemen in black with swords. If you were unused to royal balls you would think every one of these people was worth describing separately; but, compared to what is coming, it may be said that Cinderella has merely pushed them on with her lovely foot. They are her idea of courtiers, and have anxious expressions as if they knew she was watching them. They have character in the lump, if we may put it that way, but none individually. Thus one cannot smile or sigh, for instance, without all the others smiling or sighing.
At night they probably sleep in two large beds, one for ladies and one for gentlemen, and if one of the ladies, say, wants to turn round, she gives the signal, and they all turn simultaneously. As children they were not like this; they had genuine personal traits, but these have gradually been blotted out as they basked in royal favour; thus, if the KING wipes his glasses they all pretend that their glasses need wiping, and when the queen lets her handkerchief fall they all stoop loyally to pick up their own. Down the golden steps at the back comes the lord mayor, easily recognisable by his enormous chain.) lord mayor. O yes, O yes, make way every one for the Lord Mayor — namely myself.
(They all make way for him. Two black boys fling open lovely curtains.) O yes, O yes, make way every one, and also myself, for Lord Times.
(This is a magnificent person created by Cinderella on learning from MR BODIE that the press is all powerful and that the ‘Times’ is the press. He carries one hand behind his back, as if it might be too risky to show the whole of himself at once, and it is noticeable that as he walks his feet do not quite touch the ground. He is the only person who is not a little staggered by the amount of gold: you almost feel that he thinks there is not quite enough of it. He very nearly sits down on one of the royal rocking chairs: and the LORD MAYOR, looking red and unhappy, and as if he had now done for himself, has to whisper to him that the seats under the throne are reserved.) O yes, O yes, make way for the Censor.
(CINDERELLA has had a good deal of trouble over this person, of whom she has heard a great deal in wartime, without meeting any one who can tell her what he is like. She has done her best, and he is long and black and thin, dressed as tightly as a fish, and carries an executioner’s axe. All fall back from him in fear, except LORD TIMES, who takes a step forward, and then the censor falls back.) O yes, O yes, make way everybody for his Royal Highness the King, and his good lady the Queen.
(The KING and QUEEN arc attired like their portraits on playing cards, who are the only royalties Cinderella has seen, and they advance grandly to their rocking chairs, looking as if they thought the whole public was dirt, but not so much despised dirt as dirt with good points lord times fixes them with his eye, and the king hastily crosses and shakes hands with him.) O yes, O yes, Make way every one, except the King, and Queen, and Lord Times, for His Highness Prince Hard-to-Please.
(The heir apparent comes, preceded by trumpeters. His dress may a little resemble that of the extraordinary youth seen by Cinderella in her only pantomime, but what quite takes our breath away is his likeness to our POLICEMAN. If the ball had taken place a night earlier it may be hazarded that the prince would have presented quite a different face. It is as if Cinderella’s views of his personality had undergone some unaccountable change, confusing even to herself, and for a moment the whole scene rocks, the street lamps wink, and odd shadows stalk among the courtiers, shadows of MR. BODIE, MARION, and the party in an unfinished coat, who have surely no right to be here. This is only momentarily; then the palace steadies itself again. The KING rises, and in stately manner addresses his guests in the words CINDERELLA conceives to be proper to his royal mouth.
As he stands waiting superbly for the applause to cease, he holds on to a strap hanging conveniently above his head. To CINDERELLA strap-hanging on the Underground has been a rare and romantic privilege.)
KING. My loyal subjects, all ‘ail! I am as proud of you as you are of me. It gives me and my good lady much pleasure to see you ‘ere by special invite, feasting at our expense. There is a paper bag for each, containing two sandwiches, buttered on both sides, a piece of cake, a hard-boiled egg, and an orange or a banana.
(The cheers of the delighted courtiers gratify him, but the vulgar children over his head continue their rub-a-dub on the parapet until he glares up at them. Even then they continue.) Ladies and Gents all, pleasant though it is to fill up with good victuals, that is not the chief object of this royal invite. We are ‘ere for a solemn purpose, namely, to find a mate for our noble son. All the Beauties are waiting in the lobby: no wonder he is excited.
(All look at the PRINCE, who is rocking and yawning.)
He will presently wake up; but first I want to say — (here he becomes conscious of LORD TIMES). What is it?
LORD TIMES. Less talk.
KING. Certainly. (He sits down.)
PRINCE (encouraged to his feet by various royal nudges). My liege King and Queen-Mother, you can have the competitors brought in, and I will take a look at them; but I have no hope. My curse is this, that I am a scoffer about females. I can play with them for an idle hour and then cast them from me even as I cast this banana skin. I can find none so lovely that I may love her for aye from the depths of my passionate heart. I am so blasted particular. O yes! O yes! (He sits down and looks helpless.) king (undismayed). All ready?
(The lord mayor bows.) All is ready, my son. prince (bored). Then let loose the Beauts.
(To heavenly music from the royal hurdy-gurdies the Beauties descend the stairs, one at a time. There are a dozen of the fine creatures, in impudent confections such as Cinderella has seen in papers in MR BODIE’S studio; some of them with ropes of hair hanging down their proud backs as she has seen them in a hairdresser’s window. As we know, she has once looked on at a horse show, and this has coloured her conception of a competition for a prince. The ladies prance round the ballroom like high-stepping steeds; it is evident that Cinderella has had them fed immediately before releasing them; her pride is to show them at their very best, and then to challenge them. They paw the floor wantonly until LORD TIMES steps forward. Peace thus restored, HIS MAJESTY proceeds.)
KING. The first duty of a royal consort being to be good, the test of goodness will now be applied by the Lord Mayor. Every competitor who does not pass in goodness will be made short work of.
(Several ladies quake, and somewhere or other unseen CINDERELLA is chuckling.)
ONE OF THE STEEDS. I wasn’t told about this. It isn’t fair.
LORD MAYOR (darkly). If your Grace wishes to withdraw —
(She stamps.)
KING. The Lord Mayor will now apply the test.
LORD MAYOR (to a gold PAGE). The therm-mo-ometers, boy.
(A whole boxful of thermometers is presented to him by the PAGE on bended knee. The LORD MAYOR is now in his element.
He has ridden in gold, coaches and knows what hussies young women often are. To dainty music he trips up the line of Beauties and pops a tube into each pouting mouth. The competitors circle around, showing their paces while he stands, watch in hand, giving them two minutes. Then airily he withdraws the tubes; he is openly gleeful when he finds sinners. Twice he is in doubt, it is a very near thing, and he has to consult the king in whispers: the king takes the queen aside, to whisper behind the door as it were; then they both look at lord times, who, without even stepping forward, says ‘No’ — and the doubtfuls are at once bundled out of the chamber with the certainties. Royalty
sighs, and the courtiers sigh and the lord mayor sighs in a perfunctory way, but there is a tossing of manes from the Beauties who have scraped through.) king (stirring up the prince, who has fallen asleep). Our Royal Bud will now graciously deign to pick out a few possibles.
(His Royal Highness yawns.) lord mayor (obsequiously). If your Highness would like a little assistance — prince (you never know how they will take things). We shall do this for ourselves, my good fellow.
(He smacks the LORD MAYOR’S face with princely elegance. The LORD MAYOR takes this as a favour, and the courtiers gently smack each other’s faces, and are very proud to be there. The PRINCE moves languidly down the line of Beauties considering their charms, occasionally nodding approval but more often screwing up his nose. The courtiers stand ready with nods or noses. Several ladies think they have been chosen, but he has only brought them into prominence to humiliate them; he suddenly says ‘Goodbye,’ and they have to go, while he is convulsed with merriment. He looks sharply at the courtiers to see if they are convulsed also, and most of them are. The others are flung out.)
QUEEN (hanging on to her strap). Does our Royal one experience no palpitation at all?
PRINCE (sleepily). Ah me, ah me!
LORD TIMES (irritated). You are well called ‘Ard-to-Please. You would turn up your nose at a lady though she were shaped like Apollo’s bow.
(The PRINCE shrugs his shoulder to indicate that love cannot be forced.)
LORD MAYOR (darkly). And now we come to the severer test.
(With a neat action, rather like taking a lid off a pot, the LORD MAYOR lets it be known to the ladies that they must now lift their skirts to show their feet. When this devastating test is concluded, there are only two competitors left in the room.)
LORD TIMES (almost as if he were thinking of himself). Can’t have Two.
(Cards such as CINDERELLA saw at the horse show, with ‘1st,”2nd,’ and ‘3rd’ on them, are handed to the PRINCE. Like one well used to such proceedings, he pins 2nd and 3rd into the ladies’ bodices.)
QUEEN (gloomily). But still no first.
(The children applaud; they have been interfering repeatedly.)
KING. Come, come, proud youth, you feel no palps at all?
PRINCE. Not a palp. Perhaps for a moment this one’s nose — that one’s cock of the head — But it has passed.
(He drearily resumes his rocking chair. No one seems to know what to do next.)
MARIE (to the rescue). The two Ugly Sisters! Monsieur le Roi, the two Ugly Sisters! (She points derisively at the winners.)
KING (badgered). How did these children get their invites?
(This is another thing that no one knows. Once more the room rocks, and MR. BODIE passes across it as if looking for some one. Then a growing clamour is heard outside. Bugles sound. The LORD MAYOR goes, and returns with strange news.)
LORD MAYOR. Another competitor, my King. Make way for the Lady Cinderella.
KING. Cinderella? I don’t know her.
GLADYS (nearly falling out of the box). You’ll soon know her. Now you’ll see! Somebody wake the Prince up!
(The portals are flung open, and CINDERELLA is seen alighting from her lovely equipage, which we will not describe because some one has described it before. But note the little waggle of her foot just before she favours the ground. We have thought a great deal about how our
CINDERELLA should be dressed for this occasion: white of course, and she looked a darling in it, but we boggle at its really being of the grandest stuff and made in the shop where the Beauties got theirs. No, the material came from poorer warehouses in some shabby district not far from the street of the penny shop; her eyes had glistened as she gazed at it through the windows, and she paid for it with her life’s blood, and made the frock herself. Very possibly it was bunchy here and there.
CINDERELLA then comes sailing down into the ballroom, not a sound to be heard except the ecstatic shrieks of the four children. She is modest but calmly confident; she knows exactly what to do. She moves once round the room to show her gown, then curtsies to the Royal personages; then, turning to the LORD MAYOR, opens her mouth and signs to him to pop in the thermometer. He does it as in a dream. Presently he is excitedly showing the thermometer to the KING.)
KING. Marvellous! 99!
(The cry is repeated from all sides. The
QUEEN hands the KING a long pin from her coiffure, and the PRINCE is again wakened.)
PRINCE (with his hand to his brow). What, another! Oh, all right; but you know this is a dog’s life. (He goes to CINDERELLA, takes one glance at her and resumes his chair.)
LORD MAYOR (while the children blub). That settles it, I think. (He is a heartless fellow.) That will do. Stand back, my girl.
CINDERELLA (calmly). I don’t think.
KING. It’s no good, you know.
CINDERELLA (curtsying). Noble King, there is two bits of me thy son hath not yet seen. I crave my rights. (She points to the two bits referred to, which are encased in the loveliest glass slippers.)
KING. True. Boy, do your duty.
PRINCE. Oh, bother!
(Those words are the last spoken by him in his present state. When we see him again, which is the moment afterwards, he is translated. He looks the same, but so does a clock into which new works have been put. The change is effected quite simply by
CINDERELLA delicately raising her skirt and showing him her foot. As the exquisite nature of the sight thus vouchsafed to him penetrates his being a tremor passes through his frame; his vices take flight from him and the virtues enter. It is a heady wakening, and he falls at her feet. The courtiers arc awkward, not knowing whether they should fall also. CINDERELLA beams to the children, who utter ribald cries of triumph.)
KING (rotating on his strap). Give him air. Fill your lungs, my son.
QUEEN (on hers). My boy! My boy!
LORD MAYOR (quickly taking the royal cue). Oh, lady fair!
(The PRINCE’S palpitations increase in violence.)
QUEEN. Oh, happy sight!
KING. Oh, glorious hour!
LORD MAYOR (not sure that he was heard the first time). Oh, lady fair!
(The PRINCE springs to his feet. He is looking very queer.)
LORD TIMES (probably remembering how he looked once). The Prince is about to propose.
LORD MAYOR. O yes, O yes, O yes!
KING. Proceed, my son.
PRINCE (with lover-like contortions and addressing himself largely to the feet). Dew of the morning, garden of delight, sweet petals of enchanted nights, the heavens have opened and through the chink thou hast fallen at my feet, even as I fall at thine. Thou art not one but twain, and these the twain — Oh, pretty feet on which my lady walks, are they but feet? O no, O no, O no! They are so small I cannot see them. Hie! A candle that I may see my lady’s feet!
(He kisses one foot, and she holds up the other for similar treatment.)
O — Cinderella, if thou wilt deign to wife with me, I’ll do my best to see that through the years you always walk on kisses.
(The courtiers resolve to walk on kisses for evermore.)
LORD MAYOR. The Prince has proposed. The Lady Cinderella will now reply.
KING. Lovely creature, take pity on my royal son.
QUEEN. Cinderella, be my daughter.
LORD TIMES (succinctly). Yes, or no?
CINDERELLA. There’s just one thing. Before I answer, I would like that little glass thing to be put in his mouth.
LORD MAYOR (staggered). The Ther-mo-mometer?
KING. In our Prince’s mouth!
LORD TIMES. Why not?
CINDERELLA. Just to make sure that he is good.
PRINCE (with a sinking). Oh, I say!
QUEEN. Of course he is good, Cinderella — he is our son.
CINDERELLA (doggedly). I would like it put in his mouth.
KING. But —
PRINCE (alarmed). Pater!
LORD TIMES. It must be done.
(The test is t
herefore made. The royal mouth has to open to the thermometer, which is presently passed to the KING for examination. He looks very grave. The PRINCE seizes the telltale thing, and with a happy thought lets it fall.)
PRINCE. NINETY-NINE!
(The joyous cry is taken up by all, and CINDERELLA goes divinely on one knee to her lord and master.)
CINDERELLA (simply). I accepts.
KING (when the uproar has ceased). All make merry. The fire is going low. (Recklessly.) In with another shilling!
(A shilling is dumped into the shilling-in-the-slot stove, which blazes up. The PRINCE puts his arm round his love.)
LORD TIMES (again remembering his day of days). My Prince, not so fast. There is still the riddle.