“There’s a reason for that. In London there’s a very strong party, growing every year stronger, called the Puritan party. These men hate the theatre, and think all amusement ‘godless,’ and as many of them are men who manage city affairs, they won’t allow theatres in London itself. But here in Southwark, they have no power, so that’s why the theatres are over on this south side of the river, where the Puritans can’t prevent them from being built.” “Queen Elizabeth isn’t like that, though, is she? Like the Puritans, I mean?” “Not a bit,” laughed Godmother. “She loves every kind of amusement, acting and dancing especially. She dances herself, though she’s getting quite old. You remind me that now we’ve seen something of the life of the people in their business and pleasure, we must also take a glimpse of the Court and of the men and women surrounding the Queen. Not that she shuts herself away from her subjects. Far from it. Never was there a queen so popular as ‘Good Queen Bess!’ Every time she moves from one place to another there is a triumphal procession. To-day, for instance, she is coming back from her palace at Greenwich, which is down the river there, and she will ride in state through the Chepe.” “Oh! can’t we see her?” Betty implored. “Certainly we will.” They hastened over the bridge, and much more quickly than they could have made the journey in what Betty called _un_-magic time, found themselves somehow or other seated at a window overlooking the Chepe. The market-place below was gaily decorated and crowded by eager people. Soon cheers announced that the Queen was in sight, and in a moment or two she passed the window from which they were leaning, riding on a white horse covered with splendid trappings. A very handsome young man dressed in white and silver, with a blue velvet cloak flung back from his shoulder, led the horse by the bridle. “That’s the Earl of Essex,” Godmother said. “The Queen’s present favourite.” Betty glanced at him admiringly, and then at the Queen, who was gorgeous in velvet and jewels, her long cloak falling in heavy folds about her. She wore a red frizzled wig, and her face was lined and old. Evidently the people loved her, for they cheered themselves hoarse, and as she passed, fell on their knees in the road. Every now and then, in answer to their shouts of welcome, she bowed and exclaimed in a clear voice, “Thank ye, my good people!” Following her came a crowd of pretty ladies, some in litters, others on horseback, and all beautifully dressed in white. [Illustration] “Those are the Maids of Honour,” Godmother explained, “and these”—as a train of gallant noblemen rode by—“are the courtiers who always travel about with the Queen.” [Illustration: THE ROYAL BARGE] “She’s going to the palace of Westminster, I suppose?” Betty inquired.