[Unfamiliar faces had always been commonplace enough at Elsinore. Being approached pulls no clouds over Ophelia's soft smile, although it does prompt her to return to her feet, pausing only to brush lightly at the dirt speckling where her knees had rested on the ground.]

Rare to me, if nothing else. [More dirt has to be brushed from her fingers before she points toward a small cluster of yellow and purple orchids.] Those lady slippers I've only heard of, never seen--but I hear they grow quite abundantly in England.