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Scene: The presence chamber of Tutbury Castle on a raw day of February, 1569. A casement flapping in the wind. Crimson velvet drapery lies on the floor, and two women squat there, stitching at it. Beyond, through an open door, a suite of smaller rooms full of furniture.

First Sewing Woman. You tug too much of the velvet over to you, Mary. Let be, and be content with your share.

Second Sewing Woman. I only desire to help you, Richardyne. I scarcely can hold my needle for the cold.

1st S.W. Then shut the window, you fool.

2nd S.W. Nay, fool I am not, though I be younger than you. For I did not set the window open. It was the cook. Call him to fasten it.

1st S.W. The cook indeed! His part is to bake and stew, not hang out of the casements.

2nd S.W. Will there be a great feast, do you think, when this Queen comes?

1st S.W. There will be feasts every night.

2nd S.W. Lord! how happy it will be! They say she loves dancing.

1st S.W. Who told you this?

2nd S.W. The post that brought my Lord’s letter from Bolton. He knew, for he spoke like a Scottish man.