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"Now, pray, tell us something about the queen," kept on Mrs. Van Tromp. "We all take such an interest in everything relating to her—such a model woman in every respect."

"Is she?" dryly remarked Marian. "I know she hath a heavy hand. See you this ear of mine? Well, one day, as I was in her closet, handing her her petticoat, I happened to glance sidewise out of the window at my Lord Essex in the court-yard, and the queen fetched me such a box on the ear, it stings me yet, and called me a lazy vixen, with eyes for none but cavaliers, and if I did not behave myself better she would pack me off home. And being vexed and sore, I did complain to my Lord Bishop of London, who told me he could do nothing to help me, for the queen had sworn at him like any trooper as he stood in his bishop's robes, and had kicked and cuffed him most cruelly."

Mrs. Van Tromp's countenance was a study during all this. She finally murmured faintly:

"I'd no idea the queen was that sort of a person."

"And," continued Lady Marian, animated by the recital of her wrongs at the queen's hands, "she doth wear apparel too young for her years, and paints her face, albeit she be near seventy. And dances—"