Queen Elinor: In accordance with our laws, only the first born may compete for the hand of the fair maiden. Queen Elinor: Archers! To you mark!
King Fergus: aye! Archers! t-t-to your marks! Queen Elinor: and may the lucky arrow find its target Crowd Cheering *Strum of a string* Dad: Get on with it! slow drum beat Merida: I bet he wishes he was tossing cabers (or long top bridges)??? NOOOOO! I got it! Good arm! and such lovely flowing locks Fergus! What?! Slow drum beating OH, wee lamb Oh COME ON!
SHOOT BOY! singing a jig* Feast yur eyes! *baby crying* King Fergus: Well that’s just grand now isnt’it? dog wimper I am Merida and i’ll be shootin’ for my own hand *Gasps!* from the crowd (softly) what are you doing Merida! Curs this Dress! *dress rips* Merida! Stop this! Dont you dare lose another arrow! Merida! I forbid it!