PRUDENCE: At the banquet, as always,
the royal menu shall consist
of the rarest roast beef, French onion soup, tarragon mashed potatoes, freshly baked baguettes, the finest truffles in the kingdom and, for dessert, Norwegian stewed prunes.
CINDERELLA: Prunes? For dessert?
PRUDENCE: The King expects it.
It is a tradition that is never broken.
Besides, I like them.
PRUDENCE: Your Highness shall pause here to greet her noble guests.
BEATRICE:
Remember: Curtsy to royalty, wave to nobility.
CINDERELLA: I know I can do this right.
BOY: Cinderella!
GIRL: Cinderella! Hi!
CINDERELLA: My friends! Hello! Hello! How nice to see you. Wait just a minute. Open the gate!
PRUDENCE: No, no, no!
These gates are only opened for royal visitors.
You must remember the rules. Commoners are never allowed in the palace. It simply isn't done.
BEATRICE: At the very least, one must learn to dance with poise and grace.
CINDERELLA: I'm trying, I just need more practise.
PRUDENCE: It must be perfect. It is the King's favourite dance. No, no, no, Your Highness. It must be slower and more formal.
BEATRICE: Your Highness, eggshell or bone?
CINDERELLA: Eggshell?
PRUDENCE: Bone.
DAPHNE: Now, who sits next to the count?
CINDERELLA: The duke?
PRUDENCE: The marquis.
BEATRICE: Gold or silver?
CINDERELLA: For what?
DAPHNE: Baron or viscount?
CINDERELLA: Who?
BEATRICE: Pekoe or Darjeeling?
CINDERELLA: I don't know!
DAPHNE: Braised or broiled?
BEATRICE: Fish or fowl?
DAPHNE: Stand or sit?
BEATRICE: Mind the music!
DAPHNE: Hair up or down?
BEATRICE: Left or right?
DAPHNE: One or two?
BEATRICE: Watch the chair!
PRUDENCE: Your Highness!
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