“Why is it, my dearest mamma,” she exclaimed, “that you are again in tears?” And, laughingly, she took the handkerchief from the queen and put it to her own eyes, pretending to weep. “See now, this is the way I shall do when I am grown up, for it seems to me grown-up people are always weeping. Oh! I wish I could always remain a child, and then I should never be miserable! Listen, my dear mamma,” she continued, again twining her arms around her mother’s neck, “why is it that you are always weeping and so sad? It must surely do you harm. Everybody is not like you, constantly sighing and in tears, I do assure you. Only this morning, I was at St. James’ Park with Alice, and there I met Lady Anne Boleyn; she was laughing gaily as she promenaded with a number of her friends. I ran immediately to her to say good morning, for I was really very glad to see her. How is it, mamma--I thought you told me she had gone to Kent to visit her father?” “My child,” replied the queen, her tears flowing afresh, “what I told you was true; but she has since returned without my being informed.” “But, mamma, since this is your own house, why has she not yet presented herself? I am very sorry she has acted so, for I love her better than any of the other ladies. She told me all she saw in France when she travelled with my aunt, the Duchess of Suffolk. Oh! how I would love to see France. Lady Anne says it is a most beautiful country. She has described to me all the magnificent entertainments that King Louis XII. gave in honor of my aunt. Mamma, when I marry, I want the King of France to be my husband.” “And you--you also love Anne Boleyn?” replied the queen. “Oh! yes, mamma, _very_ much, very much indeed!” innocently answered the child. “I am very sorry she is no longer to be here, she is so amiable, and when she plays with me she always amuses me so much!” “Well, my dear child,” replied the queen, “I will tell you now why people weep when they are grown up, as you say: it is because they very often love persons who no longer return their affection.” “And do you believe she no longer loves me?” replied the impulsive little Mary with a thoughtful expression. “And yet, mamma, I kissed her this morning and embraced her with all my heart. However, I now remember that she scarcely spoke a word to me; but I had not thought of it before. She seemed to be very much embarrassed. But why should she no longer love me when I still love her so dearly?” As Mary uttered these words, a woman entered the room and, whispering a moment in the ear of the queen, placed a note in her hand. Catherine arose and approached the light; after reading the note, she called the young princess and requested her to retire to her chamber, as she had something to write immediately that was very important.