She was delighted with the way in which my mother had dressed
our hair, made her show how it was done, and declared it was exactly
what was suited to her niece, Mademoiselle, none of whose women had
the least notion of hair-dressing. She was going herself to the
Luxembourg to put the finishing touches, and Nan and I must come with
her. I privately thought my mother would have been more to the
purpose, but the Queen wanted to show the effect of the handi-work.
However, Nan disliked the notion very much, and showed it so plainly
in her face that the Queen exclaimed: 'You are no courtier,
Mademoiselle de Ribaumont. Why did you not marry her to her
Roundhead cousin, and leave her in England, Madame? Come, my god-
daughter, you at least have learnt the art of commanding your looks.'
Poor Annora must have had a sad time of it with my mother when we
were gone. She was a good girl, but she had grown up in rough times,
and had a proud independent nature that chafed and checked at
trifles, and could not brood being treated like a hairdresser's
block, even by Queens or Princesses. She was likewise very young,
and she would have been angered instead of amused at the scene which
followed, which makes me laugh whenever I think of it.
The Queen sent messages to know whether the Prince of Wales were
ready, and presently he came down in a black velvet suits slashed
with white and carnation ribbons, and a little enameled jewel on his
gold chain, representing a goose of these three colours.
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