Elizabeth talked with Sir James most familiarly, and this woman who was so shrewdly guiding her millions of Englishmen and guarding her throne from Mary of Scotland, often seemed to think of nothing but whether she or her rival had the prettier face. "Which is the fairer?" she demanded, "I or the queen of Scotland?" "Your Majesty is the fairest queen in England, and ours is the fairest queen in Scotland," replied Sir James wisely. "That is not an answer," declared Elizabeth. "Which of us two is the fairer?" "Your Majesty is whiter, but our queen is very winsome." "Which is of greater stature?" "Our queen," replied Sir James. "Your queen is over high then," said Elizabeth, "for I am neither too high nor too low. But tell me, how does she amuse herself?" "She hunts and reads and sometimes she plays on the lute and the virginals." "Does she play well?" "Reasonably well for a queen," declared Sir James audaciously. "I wish I could see her," said Elizabeth. "If your Grace should command me, I could convey you to Scotland in the dress of a page, and none be the wiser," suggested Sir James gravely, and Elizabeth did not seem at all displeased with the familiarity. When the commissioner was again in Scotland, Mary asked what he thought of Elizabeth. "She has neither plain dealing nor upright meaning," said he, "and she is much afraid that your Highness's princely qualities will drive her from her kingdom." Leicester was refused. Mary was now twenty-three, but she chose for her husband Lord Darnley, a handsome, spoiled child of nineteen. He was a Catholic and after herself the next heir to the English throne. Elizabeth was angry, but she was helpless. A year later Sir James made a journey from Scotland to London in four days, as rapid traveling as was possible at that time. He called upon Lord Burleigh and gave him an important message. It was evening, and the queen was dancing merrily with her ladies and nobles when Cecil whispered a word in her ear. No more mirth did she show. She sat down, resting her head on her hand. The ladies pressed around her. Suddenly she burst out, "The Queen of Scots has a fair young son, and I am but a barren stock." When Elizabeth found that it was impossible to have her own way, she usually accepted the situation gracefully. Sir James came to see her in the morning. She met him with a "volt," a bit of an old Italian dance, and declared the news was so welcome that it had cured her of a fifteen-days' illness. She agreed to be godmother to Mary's son, and as a christening gift she sent a font of pure gold.