Here’s a ‘The Windsors’ inspired skit with only the prompt of Catherine and Pippa talking about new baby and Meghan discussing Catherine’s diagnoses..
INT. BUCKLEBURY MANOR – DRAWING ROOM – AFTERNOON
Catherine sits poised, immaculate as ever, cradling baby Rose in a cashmere blanket that probably cost more than Eugenie’s wedding. Pippa watches, chin in hand, equal parts smitten and simmering.
CATHERINE
(Admiringly)
Oh Pippa, she’s absolutely gorgeous. And what a beautiful name. Rose. So classic. So pure.
She pauses delicately, tilts her head, then adds—like a dagger dipped in clotted cream
CATHERINE (CONT'D)
Awfully brave though... after, you know... the accusations.
PIPPA
(Coyly, lifting her eyebrows)
Whatever do you mean?
CATHERINE
Oh, just those silly rumours about William and Rose Cholmondeley. Absolute nonsense, obviously. But really—it’s rather sweet of you to stick your neck out for me like that.
Pippa smiles—too pleasantly. She takes a long sip of her tea, then turns her eyes, ever so slightly, to the camera.
PIPPA
Hmmm. Definitely just silly rumours. Had absolutely nothing to do with naming her.
Delivered in a syrupy, mocking tone with a smile that could shatter glass.
The teacup clinks as she sets it down with theatrical precision.
CATHERINE
Anyway. I was thinking—for the christening—she must wear the royal christening gown. Not the... John Lewis one.
Pippa winces in slow motion, visibly triggered by the memory of bunny embroidery of Arthur and Grace’s christening gown.
CATHERINE (CONT'D)
I’ll have it sent over from Sandringham. And whilst we’re at it, we simply must put her name down for the Cambridge Lovers' Knot tiara. For her wedding, of course.
Beat.
Catherine smiles, dreamily maternal.
CATHERINE (CONT'D)
By the time little Rose is engaged, we should be... you know?
A pause.
Pippa’s jaw tenses. She forces a smile so tight it threatens to crack her bone structure. She knows Catherine is referring to when she becomes Queen.
PIPPA
Yes, well... Johnny is a billionaire. So I’m sure we’ll manage.
CATHERINE
(Ever so softly)
Oh, of course, darling. And billionaires are wonderful.
She leans in slightly, smile deepening like a duchess lowering the boom.
CATHERINE (CONT'D)
But you know... William IS a Prince.
Pippa grimaces.
SMASH CUT TO:
INT. MONTECITO MANSION – OPEN-PLAN ZEN LOUNGE – DAY
A sprawling California living room, suspiciously styled to look “relatable.” A Himalayan salt lamp glows ominously next to a copy of The Cut with Meghan’s face on the cover. Meghan is pacing dramatically in a matching beige loungewear set. Crumpled Daily Mail pages lie strewn like defeated enemies.
MEGHAN
HAAAARRRYYY!!!
Harry bursts in wielding a baseball bat covered in Whole Foods stickers.
HARRY
Is someone trying to invade our privacy again?! Not on my watch! Only WE are allowed to sell the backs of our kids' heads to the media for marketing purposes!
MEGHAN
It’s her! AGAIN!
HARRY
Who? That woman from the Mail on Sunday with the crunchy fringe?
MEGHAN
No! (Irritated) Catherine! All she has to do is get cancer and suddenly she’s the people’s bloody duchess! Standing ovation at Wimbledon! Where was my ovation? It’s racism, Harry. They’d never do that for a Black woman.
HARRY
Don’t you mean... (glances directly at the camera) unconscious bias?
MEGHAN
Racism, unconscious bias, systemic oppression! Pick your poison! The point is—it’s not fair!
HARRY
Now Meghan... I’m sure Catherine didn’t get cancer on purpose just to spite you.
MEGHAN
Are you sure, Harry? I mean, come on. She’s always been calculating. She probably has a whole PR team just dedicated to stealing my thunder.
She doesn’t even do anything! Just exists in soft focus and everyone loses their bloody minds. I can’t compete with that kind of passive-aggressive martyrdom. She’s weaponised silence, Harry.
HARRY
To be fair, it’s a smart tactic.
MEGHAN
You know what? I don’t care anymore. I’m going to be the bigger duchess. Graceful. Dignified. Quietly brilliant.
She breathes. Holds the pose. Noble. Transcendent. Glowing with self-righteous peace.
HARRY
You know she’s a princess now? Not just a duchess. She’s the Princess of Wales, just like mummy.
MEGHAN (CONT'D)
(screams into a cushion)
...Just go and leak a story to People about how I nearly died of emotional exhaustion last week because Catherine got more likes than me.
HARRY
Right-o.
He pulls out his special “MEDIA – U.S.” phone. Meghan clutches a rose quartz face roller, stares directly into the middle distance, and prepares for her close-up.
MEGHAN
(softly, to herself)
Rise above. Rise high. But make sure the world sees you flying.
SMASH CUT BACK TO:
INT. BUCKLEBURY MANOR – DRAWING ROOM – LATER THAT AFTERNOON
Pippa, now reclining slightly with a second glass of champagne, watches Catherine carefully re-fluff Rose’s blanket like she’s styling a Liberty window display.
PIPPA
So what have you been doing since you’ve been signed off?
CATHERINE
Oh, you know... filming myself frolicking in fields, updating Instagram with inspirational quotes... making sure the kids are colour-coordinated for their media-approved photo shoots.
PIPPA
Do you not think it’s all a bit… well... a bit shit? I mean I know you’re sick and everything, but I don’t think the people will stand for you sitting on your arse much longer.
CATHERINE
Oh no, Pippa. You don’t seem to understand.
She leans in slightly, eyes gleaming with a kind of royal ferocity usually reserved for corgi stampedes.
CATHERINE (CONT'D)
I’m a national treasure now!
Beat.
Her smile grows a little too wide.
CATHERINE (CONT'D)
I could kick a puppy and people would still cheer for me (sinisterly)
Close-up on ORLA, the spaniel, who looks up in terror, ears twitching... and then sheepishly scuttles out of frame.
PIPPA
(Grinning)
Nice.
CATHERINE
(Regains her composure)
And you? What do you plan on doing on your maternity leave?
PIPPA
Oh, you know. The usual shit. Holiday on Mustique, shopping in Dubai, couple of marathons...
CATHERINE
And spending time with Rose?
PIPPA
(Snorts, laughing)
Fuck off. That’s what we have a nanny for!
CATHERINE
(Frowning slightly)
Pippa... the nanny needs time off too.
Beat.
Pippa sips her wine in silence, unimpressed by morality.
PIPPA
Ugh. You’re such a princess.
CATHERINE
(Smiling)
I just try to do what’s right.
PIPPA
Right. Like feeding orphans by moonlight and hand-embroidering Union Jacks for the kitchen staff.
(Mockingly)
CATHERINE
Actually, I did knit foot warmers for the Sandringham drivers. It does get awfully cold up there!
Pippa stares at her, borderline incredulous.
PIPPA
You’re like a bloody Hallmark card in a tiara.
CATHERINE
(Graciously)
Thank you, Pippa. That’s the nicest insult you’ve ever given me.
They both sip their drink.
A soft beat.
PIPPA
And to think Mummy always said I was the pretty one.
CATHERINE
(Sweetly, without missing a beat)
She still does, darling.
Pippa’s smile tightens like a cashmere headband in a heatwave. Catherine, radiant and oblivious, adjusts baby Rose’s blanket with saintly precision.
CATHERINE (CONT'D)
Now. Shall we go bake some gluten-free scones for the Women’s Institute?
PIPPA
Only if there’s gin in them.
CATHERINE
There isn’t. But I have a bottle left over from the Queen Mother. Or possibly Princess Margaret—no one’s quite sure.
PIPPA
(Suddenly perked up)
Oooh. Count me in! I’ve always wanted a looksy in Margaret’s drink cabinet!
They exit, Rose gurgling softly as Catherine hums "God Save the King" like it’s a lullaby.
End on Orla the spaniel licking up crumbs from the leftover biscuits on the saucer.
[END SCENE]