“You must see it all without looking,” I suggested, and Mary helped me out by saying:—­

“It is all tinsel, not worth looking at.  That is the quality of all you will see at court; gold foil, king and all.”

Presently I saw the gentlemen removing their hats and tucking them under their arms, so I knew the king had entered, and felt sure he would soon come up to salute his hostess, the duchess, near whom we were standing.

I told Frances that she was about to meet the king, and admonished her to keep a strong heart.  She smiled as she answered:—­

“I think I have met him already.”  Then she told us briefly of her encounter with the tipsy gentleman in the Stone Gallery.

She had entirely recovered her self-possession and was prepared to meet calmly the man who was a demigod to millions of English subjects.

The queen did not come with the king, so he loitered a moment among the courtiers before making his way to the duchess, but the delay was short, and soon he presented himself.  The duchess rose when he approached, but hardly allowed him time to finish his bow till she took his arm, turned toward us, and smiled to Frances to approach.  I touched my cousin’s arm, gently thrusting her forward, and the next moment she was courtesying to the floor before the man who believed, in common with most of his subjects, that he owned by divine right the body and soul of every man in England, together with every man’s ox and his ass, his wife and his daughter, and all that to him belonged.

The king raised Frances, still retaining her hand, and bent most gallantly before her.

“I have met Mistress Jennings,” said he, smiling, “and she told me to pay my compliments to the devil.”

The king laughed, so of course the courtiers who heard him also laughed.  Instantly the news spread, and one might have heard on every hand, “The new maid told the king to go to the devil.”  But as the king seemed to be pleased, the courtiers were, too, and the new maid of honor became a person of distinction at once.

The king’s unexpected remark disconcerted Frances for a moment, and her confusion added to her charm.  In a moment she recovered herself, courtesied, and said:—­

“I beg your Majesty not to remind me of my terrible mistake.  I thought you were a bold cavalier, and of course did not know that I was speaking to my king.  I offer my humble apology.  Pray do not pay your compliments to the devil, but keep them for me, your Majesty’s most devoted subject.”

“Odds fish!” exclaimed his Majesty.  “I’m glad of the reprieve.  I did not want to go to the devil, but Odds fish!  I’d be willing to do so for a smile from my most devoted subject.”

“Merci, sire!” answered Frances, with a courtesy and smiling as graciously as even a king could ask.

“If my most devoted subject will honor her king by asking him to dance the next coranto with her, he will do his best to make amends for his boldness earlier in the day, for he is naturally a modest king.”