"Hast thou not changed thy garb yet, my child?" she asked. "It behooves thee to do so at once for it savors of disrespect to the queen not to appear in other array." "Nay;" said Elizabeth who had overheard her words. "The lad is well enough as he is. We warrant that he wished not to miss any of this pageant which hath been prepared in our honor. He shall attend us in our own chamber to which we and our ladies will now retire for some privacy. Come, my boy." Much embarrassed Lady Stafford strove to stammer forth the truth but the queen waved her hand peremptorily. "No more, madam. It is our wish that he attend us as he is. He shall don other garb later." There was nothing left for Francis to do but to follow her as she retired with the ladies to the apartments which had been allotted to her use. For the first time the girl was painfully conscious of the incongruousness of her attire. That the queen might ask her attendance had not occurred to any of them, and had it done so the affair would have seemed easy of explanation, but it had been found exceedingly difficult to get a hearing. She resolved, however, that should occasion present she would tell all hoping that the queen would pardon the deception, if such it might be called. [Illustration: _ELIZABETH EXTENDED HER HAND GRACIOUSLY_] For some time Elizabeth conversed with her maids, taking no notice of Francis, but at length she said abruptly, "Come here, my lad." Francis approached diffidently, and, unused to the customs of the court, remained standing. "Kneel, boy," whispered one of the ladies whom she afterward learned was the Duchess of Rutland. "Where are thy manners?" "Thy pardon," murmured Francis in consternation sinking upon one knee. "I knew not. I----" "There! 'tis naught." Elizabeth extended her hand graciously, and the girl retained presence of mind enough to kiss it respectfully. "My good Rutland, expect not court manners in the midst of a forest. The youth means well enough, I dare say, and I liked well his words of welcome. 'Tis a pretty lad! His tresses match our own for brightness." Francis looked up somewhat indignantly. Her locks were of red in truth, but they were glossy and lustrous becoming golden in the sun, while Elizabeth's were a dull red and false. "Oh, no, Your Majesty;" interposed one of the ladies. "The lad's hair is well enough, but I should as soon think of likening a weed to a rose as of comparing such lack-lustre locks to your liege's." "Foolish girl!" chided Elizabeth though a smile played about her lips for this great queen did not object to the most fulsome flattery. "To speak such words to me who am an old woman. Now the lad, we dare affirm, doth not think me so fair as his mother who is, in truth, a beautiful woman. Speak, boy!" She smiled at Francis as she spoke and rearranged her draperies coquettishly.