Henry gave a bellow of laughter. He looked at Katharine as though to say: What do you think of my sister? Is she not ridiculous?

But he was contented that she should be so. He was indeed a contented young man. He believed that everything he wished for would soon be his. Every direction in which he turned he found adulation, and very soon—it could not be long because the old man was coughing and spitting blood regularly now—he would be the King of this country.

His friends paid him all the homage he could wish for; when he rode through the streets of his father’s cities he was cheered more loudly than any. He knew that the whole of England was eagerly awaiting that day when they could call him their King. He would have everything—good looks, good health, charm, gaiety … and all that great wealth which his father had accumulated so single-mindedly over the years.

Yet nothing pleased him quite so much as the adoration of this little sister because, knowing her well, he knew too that when she expressed her love she spoke from the very depth of her heart. Young Mary had never attempted to hide her love or her hatred; had he been a beggar she would have loved him.

He sensed too the yearning tenderness in the demeanor of the other woman, and he felt some regard for her.

This was a happy day for, although on the morrow Mary’s nuptials were being solemnized, it was only by proxy and she would be with him for some time to come. So he had not to think of parting with her yet.

Mary smoothed her skirts and tried to look demure. Katharine, who had been selected as her guardian for the occasion, was well pleased with her. In spite of her exuberance, thought Katharine, she was a Princess and could be relied upon to act with dignity whenever the occasion demanded that she should.