hough she be all too black and beetle-browed for Queen
Elizabeth. Who is she, Master Gilbert?"

"She is Cicely Talbot, daughter to the gentleman porter of your
Majesty's lodge."

"See to her--mark her little dignity with her heather and bluebell
crown as she sits on the rock, as stately as jewels could make her! See
her gesture with her hands, to mark where the standing ruff ought to
be. She hath the true spirit of the Comedy--ah! and here cometh young
Antony with mincing pace, with a dock-leaf for a fan, and a mantle for
a farthingale! She speaks! now hark!"

"Good morrow to you, my young mistress," began a voice pitched two
notes higher than its actual childlike key. "Thou hast a new
farthingale, I see! O Antony, that's not the way to curtsey--do it
like this. No no! thou clumsy fellow--back and knees together."

"Never mind, Cis," interposed one of the boys--"we shall lose all our
play time if you try to make him do it with a grace. Curtsies are
women's work--go on."

"Where was I? O--" (resuming her dignity after these asides) "Thou
hast a new farthingale, I see."

"To do my poor honour to your Grace's birthday."

"Oh ho! Is it so? Methought it had been to do honour to my fair
mistress's own taper waist. And pray how much an ell was yonder
broidered stuff?"

"Two crowns, an't please your Grace," returned the supposed lady,
making a wild conjecture.

"Two crowns! thou foolish Antony!" Then recollecting herself, "two
crowns! what, when mine costs but half! Thou presumptuous, lavish
varlet--no, no, wench! what right hast thou to wear gowns finer than
thy liege?--I'll teach you." Wherewith, erecting all her talons, and
clawing frightfully with them in the air, the supposed Queen Bess leapt
at the unfortunate maid of honour, appeared to tear the imaginary robe,
and drove her victim on the stage with a great air of violence, amid
peals of laughter from the other children, loud enough to drown those
of the elders, who could hardly restrain their merriment.

Gilbert Talbot, however, had been looking about him anxiously all the
time, and would fain have moved away; but a sign from Queen Mary
withheld him, as one of the children cried,

"Now! show us how she serves her lords."

The play seemed well understood between them, for the mimic queen again
settled herself on her throne, while Will Cavendish, calling out, "Now
I'm Master Hatton," began to tread a stately measure on the grass,
while the qu