The Princess, who lost no opportunity of vexing her sister, was attired in the free and gorgeous costume of the last two reigns, in defiant contrast to the decorous modes the Queen had made fashionable, and Catherine of Braganza wore a stiff farthingale of brown brocade sewn with pearls. Presently Anne, becoming aware that Mary was watching her, broke into challenging laughter, which rang false enough at this juncture. Mary hung her head; it seemed terrible that the wretched family divisions to which she had been forced to be a party should be increased by this breach between her only sister and herself. On a sudden impulse she sent her new maid of honour, Basilea de Marsac, with a message requesting Anne’s company. The Princess tossed her head and came reluctantly; she was at no pains whatever to conceal her rebellious attitude towards the throne. Mary greeted her gently. "It would be more fitting if you would give me some of your company, Anne; Queen Catherine’s sentiments are well noised abroad—you need not—laugh—with her at such a time." Anne sank down on the other end of the settee; the ladies behind the Queen withdrew, leaving the sisters alone; the musicians were playing a monotonous little march in the gallery. "We should display a united front now," continued Mary unsteadily. "I don’t know what you mean, Madam," answered Anne almost insolently; she never used any manner of respect to the Queen; she considered that she was of as much importance; she never ceased to flaunt that she was the mother of the child who would be the future King of England. Mary gazed at her pouting, overblown comeliness with sad eyes. "You will not understand," she answered. "You take a pleasure in doing everything contrary to what I do——" Anne smoothed her grey satin skirt with a plump white hand. "Our tastes are different," she said. Mary was silent. Anne kept her languid eyes downcast, then jerked out— "I have writ to the King for the vacant Garter for my Lord Marlborough. I hope Your Majesty will use your influence?" Mary coloured hotly. "You have writ to the King in Ireland on such a matter?" "And so hath the Prince. It is allowable to write to the King, I hope?" "You should have spoken to me first," answered Mary, with trembling lips. "I have no mind that the King should be vexed with these things. I do not think he meaneth the Garter for Lord Marlborough." Anne flung up her head with a force that set her huge pearl earrings quivering. "And who better deserveth it, I should like to know? I suppose it is meant for Lord Portland, or some other Dutchman?" "Anne, you are infatuate to speak so. The services of my Lord Marlborough have been well rewarded." At that Anne burst out with what had evidently been her secret grievance. "He is slighted on every possible occasion—’tis he who should have reviewed the militia this afternoon!" Mary turned angrily.