Cicero once more with the almoner, who was now a French priest named
De Preaux, while Queen Mary herself heard her read French, and,
though always good-natured, was excruciated by her pronunciation.

Moreover, Mary was too admirable a needlewoman not to wish to make
her daughter the same; whereas Cicely's turn had always been for the
department of housewifery, and she could make a castle in pastry far
better than in tapestry; but where Queen Mary had a whole service of
cooks and pantlers of her own, this accomplishment was uncalled for,
and was in fact considered undignified. She had to sit still and
learn all the embroidery stitches and lace-making arts brought by
Mary from the Court of France, till her eyes grew weary, her heart
faint, and her young limbs ached for the freedom of Bridgefield
Pleasaunce and Sheffield Park.

Her mother sometimes saw her weariness, and would try to enliven her
by setting her to dance, but here poor Cicely's untaught movements
were sure to incur reproof; and even if they had been far more
satisfactory to the beholders, what refreshment were they in
comparison with gathering cranberries in the park, or holding a
basket for Ned in the apple-tree? Mrs. Kennedy made no scruple of
scolding her roundly for fretting in a month over what the Queen had
borne for full eighteen years.

"Ah!" said poor Cicely, "but she had always been a queen, and was
used to being mewed up close!"

And if this was the case at Wingfield, how much more was it so at
Tutbury, whither Mary was removed in January. The space was far
smaller, and the rooms were cold and damp; there was much less