"And where shall we be?" asked Charlotte.

George had turned a faint pink and she wondered why. He stammered as he answered: "There ...

there is a house opposite Bow Church in Cheapside where it is possible to get a fine view of the Lord Mayor's Show. Its owners have invited us to see it from their house.”

"How strange," murmured Charlotte.

"It is not at all strange," replied George, almost too vehemently. "It is a very fine house and it is in fact... most suitable. There are balconies from which we can see everything in ease and comfort.

And these people are Quakers. I ... I think the Quakers are very fine people indeed. I... I have always felt that this was a religion ... had I not been king of this realm ... which I could have followed.”

He was looking at her almost defiantly, and she said: "You must tell me more of this Quaker religion. You have known many Quakers, I suppose.”

George grew a shade pale and, turning, went to the window and looked out. He said in a muffled voice: "My position makes it necessary for me to meet many of my subjects.”

The Queen was puzzled. What was the reason for this strange vehemence and embarrassment?

Was it because he was asking her to see the procession from a house which he did not consider suitable for a queen? Or was it because he really felt strongly about becoming a Quaker? Of course that was impossible.

How restricted we are, thought Charlotte, and she saw poor Christina's face with the sad expression which had been there from the time her sister had heard that her marriage would not take place. Poor Christina. There was no freedom for a princess ... or a king for that matter.

"George," she said, 'do you feel strongly about this Quaker matter?”

Her words did nothing to ease the tension. "Of course not," he said sharply; and then: "I have matters to which I must attend.”

He left her at the breakfast table, wondering why his mood should suddenly have changed.

It was almost as though he were hiding some secret.

Charlotte was being dressed for the Lord Mayor's Show. It was a state occasion so she would be most splendidly attired. Her women had dressed her hair in what they called coronation ringlets; these were crowned with a circle of diamonds. Her gown was silk and gold and silver brocade; her stomacher glittered with diamonds and she was not displeased with the reflection which looked back at her. Such clothes could take the plainness out of the most ordinary face; and Charlotte was always pleased to win the admiration of spectators.

The little page boy, dressed in scarlet and silver, was standing by waiting to carry her train, and Elizabeth Chudleigh was chattering away to the Marchioness of Lome; they did not know that Charlotte was understanding a little more English every day.

"So it's to be the house of the Quaker," laughed Elizabeth Chudleigh. "Well, he has been said to have a special fondness for them.”

"This is the Barclays. Very rich bankers, the Barclays. Prosperous simplicity is the order of the day. I'm sure H.M. is glad that the house chosen was not in St. James's Market.”

"Would Hannah's family have had him?”

The women tittered together. How strange! thought Charlotte. Had she translated that conversation correctly? She was not sure; but George himself had said something about Quakers.

What was this Quaker mystery? There was something she was sure. Perhaps she would find out today.

"They say the people are massing in the streets," went on Elizabeth. "Pitt's supporters are all out. I don't think they are going to send up happy cheers for the Favourite, do you?”

"When have they ever?”

"Never. But with Mr. Pitt riding in the procession they could get really offensive about Master Bute and Her R.H.”

Pitt! Bute! The Princess! Charlotte could guess what these frivolous women were talking about.

She herself disliked the Princess Dowager and was sure her mother-in-law disliked her in return.

It was rather disgraceful that she should be so talked about on account of Lord Bute. What did the King think? Whatever he thought he kept it to himself. He was very fond of them both more fond, Charlotte suspected, than of her.

She smiled to herself. That was going to change. George was not going to remain his mother's boy now that he was a husband, She had a suspicion that he might soon be a father, but she was not sure yet. When he was, everything would be changed. The important people in his life would be his wife, his sons and daughters not his dominating mother and her paramour. Charlotte, glittering with diamonds, pink with the pleasure of contemplating the excitement of what was very possibly the case, left her apartments to take her place beside the King in the coach in which they would drive to the Quaker household from where they would see the show.

Pitt was reluctant to be a part of the procession, but Lady Hester was certain that he should.

"If you don't," she said, 'the people will believe that you are ashamed to face them and in a day or so they will be saying that the lies Bute put about against you are true.”

Pitt smiled. "They will have read my correction.”

"Slander sticks," insisted Lady Hester, and Pitt had to agree that she was right.

"But the banquet is to honour the King. I do not wish to bring about an uncomfortable situation by appearing.”

"You should be there. I am certain of it. You must convince the people of the City that you are still one of them. You resigned because the cabinet did not agree with you. You accepted the pension and my title as just rewards for your work ... and Heaven knows you deserve them. You have the future to think of, William. You must go.”

So Pitt gave way and he and his brother-in-law, Lord Temple, joined the procession in their coach.

The Princess Dowager was deeply concerned about her lover. He would have to ride through the city and the people of London blamed him for the dismissal of Pitt. Bute assured her that he had taken precautions against any unpleasantness which might occur: "I have hired strong men to follow my coach and they will be on the spot when needed.”

"So you expect trouble." Cried the Princess Dowager.

"Let us say that I always believe in being prepared for it.”

The Princess shuddered. Since the resignation of Pitt, the temper of the public towards her and her lover had grown more hostile. In the past the people had sung songs about them, had contented themselves with whispered scandal. They had merely been silent when they rode through the streets. Now they had changed. They shouted after her carriage and she knew they did after Lord Bute's, too. When she had last driven through certain streets, placards had been waved before the coach so that she could not fail to see them. On them had been crudely drawn a jackboot and petticoat. Some of the people even carried the boot and petticoat. They shouted obscenities after her carriage.

The petticoat was meant to represent her and the jackboot was a play on her lover's name. He was John therefore Jack and Boot stood for Bute. The country was governed by Jackboot and Petticoat, called these people, and they were by no means reticent about the relationship they believed to exist between these two; nor did they hesitate to discuss it in lewd and lurid terms.

The Princess shuddered. "I wish you were not riding in the procession," she said, but Bute only smiled at her. Of course he must be there. It was an occasion when all men of standing must be present. She need have no fear. He had arranged for protection from the mob should it be needed.

Had he not always been able to take care of himself?

Charlotte sat in the state coach with the King. The journey from St. James's Palace to Cheapside was just over two miles, but although they had left the Palace at noon they were still on the way after three o'clock on account of the roads being so jammed with the people who had come to see the show; and because of the carriages, carts and sedans of the spectators the procession made slow progress. The people were able to come up to the coach and stare in at the King and Queen.

George greeted them with warm, affectionate smiles; and Charlotte did her best to look pleasant.

"God save the King ... and the Queen!" cried the people.

About the state coach were the Grenadier Guards, the Horse Guards and the Yeomen of the Guard, all in their brilliant uniforms, making a show to delight the people. But just ahead of them was the coach in which the Princess Dowager was riding with her daughters, the Princesses Augusta and Caroline Matilda, and Charlotte could hear the shouts of derision which were hurled at that particular vehicle.

"Where's the Scotch Stallion?" called a voice in the crowd. George heard it and his lips tightened.

He did not like to hear his mother thus insulted; but it occurred to him that the relationship between Lord Bute and his mother was so close as to give rise to speculation. He refused to believe that they were anything but good friends; in his great desire to bring morality back to the Court he could not face any other conclusion. These were the two people to whom he was closest; he could not allow himself to believe they were living in a manner of which he would heartily disapprove. Therefore he preferred to believe the people were wrong, and it distressed him deeply.

Moreover, he was thinking of Hannah. How could he help it when he was to be guest of Quakers?

Perhaps he should have refused the Barclays' offer of their home. But that would have aroused more comment than accepting it. The shadow of Hannah Lightfoot hung over him. Sometimes he remembered the biblical admonition: The sins ye do by two and two ye pay for one by one.