As Elizabeth proceeded across the yard, she spoke to one by-stander or another, and Droop, looking on, made up his mind that the rule was that anyone to whom she addressed a word, or even a look, should drop forthwith to his knees and so remain until she had passed, unless she pleased to extend her hand to raise him up. On each side of this main procession there was a single file of five and twenty gentlemen pensioners, each carrying a gilt battle-axe. The remainder of the procession consisted of a train of court ladies all dressed in white and nearly destitute of ornaments. Evidently the Royal Virgin would suffer no rivalry in dress from those of her own sex. Just behind Elizabeth and to one side, in such a position as to be within easy reach for consultation, walked the Lord High Treasurer, William Cecil, Baron of Burleigh. It was to this nobleman that his nephew, Francis Bacon, had addressed the letter which he had given to Copernicus Droop. By dint of much squeezing and pushing, Sir Percevall made his way to the front of the waiting line, and, as Elizabeth approached, he dropped painfully to his knees, and, with hat in hand, gazed earnestly into the Queen's face, not daring to speak first, but with a petition writ large in every feature. Now, Elizabeth was most jealous of her dignity, and valued her own favors very highly. In her eyes it was downright impertinence at a time like this for anyone to solicit the honor of her attention by kneeling before he was noticed. Knowing this, Burleigh, who recognized the knight and wished him well, motioned to him earnestly to rise. Alarmed, Sir Percevall made a desperate effort to obey the hint, and, despite his huge bulk, would perhaps have succeeded in regaining his feet without attracting the notice of the Queen but for the impatient movement of the crowd behind him. Unfortunately, however, he had but half risen when the bustling multitude moved forward a little against his expansive rear. The result was disastrous. Sir Percevall lost his balance, and, feeling himself toppling, threw his hands out forward with a cry and fell flat on his face. Elizabeth was at this moment addressing a few gracious words to a white-haired courtier, who kneeled among those gathered on the right of her line of progress. Startled by the loud cry of the falling knight, she turned swiftly and saw at her feet a man of monstrous girth struggling in vain to raise his unwieldy form. His plumed hat had rolled to some distance, exposing a bald head with two gray tufts over the ears. His sword stood on its hilt, with point in air, and his short, fat legs made quick alternate efforts to bend beneath him--efforts which the fleshy knees successfully resisted.