We must think of a test that sounds fair, and looks fair, and seems fair, and isn't fair. When you got the idea of testing her for sensitivity, I could have applauded right out loud. But exactly what? The table manners? Oh, no, that's not good enough. Sensitivity. Sensitivity, sensitivity, I'm just loaded with that. In this one word is the epitome of the aristocrat. Sensitive soul and sensitive stomach, sensitive hands and feet. This is the blessing, also the curse of being the true elite. Common people don't know what exquisite agony is. Suffered by gentle people like me. Just get your hands off me. Think up a tricky test for that wretched boat-swimming princess. Madam, may I suggest, maybe we ought to... Don't take all night. I'm not well. I need my rest. Not that I ever sleep on that lumpy mattress. Oh, God, my back. Sensitivity, vein of royalty, that bed's a torture rack. Oh, I hate to sound grumpy, but my nerves are so jumpy. I am sure I could feel any lump even if it were under the mattress and small as a pea. That's the answer, under the mattress. We'll test her tonight. One tiny pea beneath one thick downy mattress. Oh, God, you're bright. Any genuine princess would feel it if she doesn't. She's through. Get the tiniest pea and order one mattress. No, make it two. Why not five? Ten, I think, would be plenty. Better still make it twenty. And to play it safe in the event, even that's not enough to ensure that she sleeps. We'll give her a soothing sedative. Won't we? You can whip up a drink. Something stunning. Oh, but you're devilish. I love the way you think. She's insensitive, so insensitive she'll fall asleep, no doubt. God, but you're clever, brilliant, a genius, pure divine. Get out.