The litter halted at the foot of the steps, the Earl descended.  All he saw was the round face of an infant in its nurse’s arms, and he turned to help his wife from the saddle, but she waved him aside.  “My son Gilbert will aid me, my Lord,” said she, “your devoir is to the princess.”

Poor Lord Shrewsbury, his apologies on his tongue, looked into the litter, where he saw the well-known and withered countenance of the family nurse.  He also beheld a buxom young female, whose dress marked her as a peasant, but before he had time to seek further for the princess, the tightly rolled chrysalis of a child was thrust into his astonished arms, while the round face puckered up instantly with terror at sight of his bearded countenance, and he was greeted with a loud yell.  He looked helplessly round, and his lady was ready at once to relieve him.  “My precious!  My sweetheart!  My jewel!  Did he look sour at her and frighten her with his ugsome beard?” and the like endearments common to grandmothers in all ages.

“But where is the princess?”

“Where?  Where should she be but here?  Her grandame’s own precious, royal, queenly little darling!” and as a fresh cry broke out, “Yes, yes; she shall to her presence chamber.  Usher her, Gilbert.”

“Bess’s brat!” muttered Dame Mary, in ineffable disappointment.

Curiosity and the habit of obedience to the Countess carried the entire troop on to the grand apartments on the south side, where Queen Mary had been lodged while the fiction of her guestship had been kept up.  Lady Shrewsbury was all the time trying to hush the child, who was quite old enough to be terrified by new faces and new scenes, and who was besides tired and restless in her swaddling bands, for which she was so nearly too old that she had only been kept in them for greater security upon the rough and dangerous roads.  Great was my lady’s indignation on reaching the state rooms on finding that no nursery preparations had been made, and her daughter Mary, with a giggle hardly repressed by awe of her mother, stood forth and said, “Why, verily, my lady, we expected some great dame, my Lady Margaret or my Lady Hunsdon at the very least, when you spoke of a princess.”

“And who should it be but one who has both the royal blood of England and Scotland in her veins?” You have not saluted the child to whom you have the honour to be akin, Mary!  On your knee, minion; I tell you she hath as good or a better chance of wearing a crown as any woman in England.”

“She hath a far better chance of a prison,” muttered the Earl, “if all this foolery goes on.”

“What!  What is that?  What are you calling these honours to my orphan princess?” cried the lady, but the princess herself here broke in with the lustiest of squalls, and Susan, who was sorry for the child, contrived to insert an entreaty that my lady would permit her to be taken at once to the nursery chamber that had been made ready for her, and let her there be fed, warmed, and undressed at once.