She grew in love with costly suits when she became independent of church and grave churchmen; and the officers of her wardrobe were continually recording in their journals that there were “lost from her Majesty’s back” gold enamelled acorns, buttons, aylets or eylets, with which her dresses were sprinkled; or rubies from her hat, or diamonds, pearls, and tassels of gold; but always from the royal back, whence they were cut by the over-loyal, as the Russian princess the other day stole the great jewel from the Moscow “Virgin,” out of piety and a taste for gems. She kissed the figure, and carried away the precious stone in her mouth. When the Scottish Queen, Mary of Lorraine, came to visit Edward VI., she deluged the court with new French fashions; “so that all the ladies went with their hair frowsed, curled, and double-curled, except the Princess Elizabeth, who altered nothing,” says Aylmer, “but kept her old maiden shamefacedness.” In latter days Elizabeth had other ways; and we read with astonishment of her never-to-be-forgotten eighty wigs, with her “weeds (costume) of every civilized country,” and her appearing in a fresh one every day. After all, it is questionable if she was a better “dresser” than the fair Gabrielle, of whom the chivalrous Unton writes to Elizabeth that she was “very silly, very unbecomingly dressed, and grossly painted.” But this was a courtier speaking of one woman to another, and his testimony is to be taken with reserve. Elizabeth was in another respect more like Marie Antoinette, for she had a dairy at Barn-Elmes, where she played the milkmaid, as the poor Queen of France used at Trianon.