(_It is_ MARIE-THERESE’S _great hour; she passes her ring to_ CINDERELLA, _who is married in it. Triumphant music swells out as a crown is put upon our Princess’s head, and an extraordinary long train attached to her person. Her husband and she move dreamily round the ball-room, the children holding up the train._ LORD TIMES _with exquisite taste falls in behind them. Then follow the courtiers, all dreamily; and completing the noble procession is the_ LORD MAYOR, _holding aloft on a pole an enormous penny. It has the face of_ CINDERELLA _on one side of it—the penny which to those who know life is the most romantic of coins unless its little brother has done better._ _The music, despite better intentions, begins to lose its head. It obviously wants to dance. Everyone wants to dance. Even_ LORD TIMES _has trouble with his legs_.) KING (_threatening, supplicating_). Don’t dance yet. I’ve got a surprise for you. Don’t dance. I haven’t told you about it, so as to keep you on the wonder. (_In vain do they try to control themselves._) It’s ices! (_All stop dancing._) (_Hoarsely._) There’s an ice-cream for everybody. (_Amid applause the royal ice-cream barrow is wheeled on by haughty menials who fill the paper sieves with dabs of the luscious condiment. The paper sieves are of gold, but there are no spoons. The children, drunk with expectation, forget their manners and sit on the throne. Somehow_ CINDERELLA’S _penny clients drift in again, each carrying a sieve._) None touches till one royal lick has been taken by us four.... (_He gives them a toast._) To the Bridal Pair!