[JOCKIE _leads the way to the tree where_ SUSAN _is sitting_. _She stands up as_ LORD CULLEN _approaches_, _and for a moment they gaze at one another in silence_. GRANDMOTHER. You might curtsey to the gentleman, Susan. LORD CULLEN. No—there’s no need of that, from her to me. [_Turning to_ JOCKIE _and putting his hand in his pocket_.] Here, my boy, is a golden pound for you—and more shall follow later. [_He then takes_ SUSAN’S _hand and leads her to the foot of the dais_. LORD CULLEN. Will you dance for me again, Susan? SEVERAL OF THE GIRLS. [_Mockingly_.] Princess Royal is her name. MARION. [_Rudely_.] Or Princess Rags. SUSAN. ’Tis all took out of my hands now, I can but do as your lordship says. Jockie, play me my music, and play it bravely too. [JOCKIE _places himself near her and begins to play_. SUSAN _dances by herself_. _At the end of her dance_ LORD CULLEN _leads the applause_, _and even the ladies on the dais join faintly in it_. _He then takes_ SUSAN _by the hand and mounts the dais with her and presents her to his mother_. LADY CULLEN. [_Aside_, _to her companion_.] I wonder if the young person understands that my poor boy is a little touched in the brain? LORD CULLEN. Here is your daughter, mother. [LADY CULLEN _and_ SUSAN _look at one another in silence_. _After a moment_ SUSAN _turns to_ LORD CULLEN. SUSAN. I’m a poor ragged thing to be daughter to the likes of she. But the heart within of me is grander nor that of any queen, because of the love that it holds for you, my lord. [LORD CULLEN _takes her hand and leads her to the front of the dais_. LORD CULLEN. We will be married to-morrow, my princess. And all these good people shall dance at our wedding. MARION. [_Springing up_.] And we’ll do a bit of dancing now as well. Come, Jockie, give us the tune of “Haste to the Wedding.” ROSE. That’s it. Come girls— LADY MILLICENT. [_To_ ALICE.] I pray he won’t find out about me. [_The old_ GRANDMOTHER _has come slowly towards the middle of the green_. GRANDMOTHER. Ah, and my little wench will know how to pay back some of the vipers tongues which slandered her, when she sits on her velvet chair as a countess, the diamonds a-trickling from her neck and the rubies a-crowning of her head. Her’ll not forget the snakes what did lie in the grass. Her’ll have her heel upon they, so that their heads be put low and there shan’t go no more venom from their great jaws to harm she, my pretty lamb—my little turtle.