When the King of France died on New Year's Day, 1515, and his young widow--Katharine's friend, Mary Tudor--clandestinely married her lover, Charles Brandon, Katharine's efforts to reconcile her husband to the peccant pair are evidence, if no other existed, that Henry's anger was more assumed than real, and that his vanity was pleased by the submissive prayers for his forgiveness. As no doubt the Queen, and Wolsey, who had joined his efforts with hers, foresaw, not only were Mary and Brandon pardoned, but taken into high favour. At the public marriage of Mary and Brandon at Greenwich at Easter 1515 more tournaments, masques and balls, enabled the King to show off his gallantry and agility in competition with his new brother-in-law; and on the subsequent May Day at Shooter's Hill, Katharine and Mary, who were inseparable, took part in elaborate and costly _al fresco_ entertainments in which Robin Hood, several pagan deities, and the various attributes of spring, were paraded for their delectation. It all sounds very gay, though somewhat silly, as we read the endless catalogues of bedizenment, of tilts and races, feasting, dancing, and music that delighted Henry and his friends; but before Katharine there ever hovered the spectre of her childlessness, and Henry, after the ceremonial gaiety and overdone gallantry to his wife, would too frequently put spurs to his courser and gallop off to New Hall in Essex, where Lady Tailebois lived. A gleam of hope and happiness came to her late in 1515 when she was again expecting to become a mother. By liberal gifts--"the greatest presents ever brought to England," said Henry himself--and by flattery unlimited, Ferdinand, almost on his death-bed, managed to "bridle" his son-in-law, to borrow a large sum of money from him and draw him anew into a coalition against France. But the hope was soon dashed; King Ferdinand died almost simultaneously with the birth of a girl-child to his daughter Katharine. It is true the babe was like to live, but a son, not a daughter, was what Henry wanted. Yet he put the best face on the matter publicly. The Venetian ambassador purposely delayed his congratulations, because the child was of the wrong sex; and when finally he coldly offered them, he pointedly told the King that they would have been much more hearty if the child had been a son. "We are both young," replied Henry. "If it is a daughter this time, by the grace of God sons will follow." The desire of the King for a male heir was perfectly natural. No Queen had reigned independently over England; and for the perpetuation of a new dynasty like the Tudors the succession in the male line was of the highest importance. In addition to this, Henry was above all things proud of his manliness, and he looked upon the absence of a son as in some sort reflecting a humiliation upon him.