lady.

I confess that I was uneasy, for Frances was a country girl, and the
coranto was the most trying, though, if well done, the most beautiful of
all dances.

Mary clasped my hand in alarm for Frances and whispered: "I do hope she
dances well. The lack of grace in a woman is inexcusable. She had better
not dance at all than poorly."

Mary's hopes were realized at once, for the king and Frances had not been
on the floor three minutes till the gentlemen began to clap their hands
softly, and in a moment a round of applause came from the entire
audience, as often happened in those informal balls.

The king turned to Frances, saying: "They are applauding your dancing.
Take your bow."

"No, it's all for your Majesty," she returned.

"No, no, my dancing is an old story to them. It is your grace they are
applauding."

"Spare me, your Majesty," she pleaded, laughing.

As the applause continued, they stopped dancing for a moment, and Frances
made her courtesy to the audience. Thereupon the applause increased, and
she courtesied again, kissing her hand as she rose from the floor.

The girl was in high spirits, and laughed as she talked to the king, who