JOAN. And I need to know this because…?

MEG. Because you’re marrying the King of Scots, of course!

JOAN. Oh!

Oh, I see.

They want me to marry the King of Scotland?

MEG. They’re bringing King James here. To betroth you.

JOAN looks at the SCRIBE.

JOAN. Did you know about this?

SCRIBE. No, my lady. No.

JOAN. Well… it’s time I was married, of course.

The SCRIBE is bowing.

SCRIBE. God’s blessing on you, my lady, you will be…

JOAN (cutting over him as she realises). Oh, for… that means two Kings are coming… two Kings!

(Pushing the SCRIBE out.) Get down home farm and count the chickens, we’re going to need more chickens, and a load more onions for the sauce because that’s the only way we’ll stretch any sauce far enough…

(As the SCRIBE hurries off.) Broilers, mind! Just count broilers! I’m not roasting them any layers no matter how royal they are. Make a list…

Put it on the list!

She’s alone with MEG. She considers her for a moment.

I’m getting married.

I’m getting married?

Scotland’s a long way to go to get married though. A long way.

What’s he like? Is he kind? Is he fat? How’s his breath?

MEG. He loves you already.

JOAN. Oh, he has to say that.

MEG. Does he?

JOAN. Oh yes. That’s the polite way to court royalty. He’ll have been writing love poems.

MEG. He has!

JOAN. Well, he’ll have had them written. What they do is they put your name in when they know who they’re marrying? They just write the name in.

MEG. No, he actually writes himself.

JOAN. Really?

Odd.

I hope he’ll like the look of me.

MEG. Why wouldn’t he?

JOAN. Yes, why wouldn’t he? I’m pretty enough.

Oh, Mother of God! Mother of God, I’ll be a queen!

MEG. Queen Joan of Scotland.

JOAN. Oh, you’ll make me laugh! Really?

MEG. You’re going to be Scottish. You’re going to be more Scottish than me.

JOAN. No.

Queen Joan of Scotland.

MEG. Could you love him though?

Love makes you like bread soaking up their gravy. It makes you everything they are.

She looks round, admiring.

This is a lovely place. I’d never been away from home till they sent for me to be a present. I like moving around. You can feel your mind rolling out like spreading ribbons as your road unravels behind you.

I’m to take you home but I’ve barely got here, have I?

I like it here.

I’m to stay in your service until the end of my days or until you get weary of me. But you won’t. We’ll have a great time together. I’ve been in a great mood ever since I saw the sea and ate a fig. Have you ever eaten a fig? Of course you have. I thought they were just something out of the Bible but you can bite them and suck through all those little sweet seeds. So soft. Like biting into a wee bird that wants you to eat it.