boldness earlier in the day, for he is naturally a modest king."

"A modest manner and a bold heart, I fear, your Majesty," returned
Frances, making the most pleasing compliment she could have paid her
sovereign. "May I be honored with your Majesty's hand for the next
coranto?"

"It is my will," graciously answered the king.

The ball opened with a brantle which his Majesty danced with the duchess,
Frances remaining, meantime, with Mary and me, awaiting the coranto with
the king, a royal favor which would win for her the envy of many a lady,
as the king seldom danced.

When the brantle was finished, the king worked his way over to Frances,
and when the bugle announced the coranto, she was saved the embarrassment
of seeking him, as she must have done had he not been by her side.

An altogether unexpected ordeal awaited Frances, for when the French
musicians began to play and his Majesty led her out, she found herself
and the king the only dancers on the floor except the Duke of York with
Mistress Stuart, and the Duke of Monmouth with his father's friend, Lady
Castlemain. Every one else stood by the wall, many of the ladies hoping
to see the new maid fail, and all of the gentlemen eager to behold her
and to comment.

The coranto is a difficult movement to perform gracefully. It consists of
a step forward, a pause during which the dancer balances on one foot,
holding the other suspended forward for a moment, then another step,
followed by a bow on the gentleman's part and a deep courtesy by the