Lady Shrewsbury and her daughters, specially distinguishing with her
favour Bessie Pierrepoint, the eldest grandchild of the Countess, who
slept with her, and was her plaything and her pupil in French and
needlework. The fiction of her being guest and not prisoner had not
entirely passed away; visitors were admitted, and she went in and out
of the lodge, walked or rode at will, only under pretext of courtesy.
She never was unaccompanied by the Earl or one of his sons, and they
endeavoured to make all private conversation with strangers, or
persons unauthorised from Court, impossible to her.

The invitation given to little Cicely on the arrival had not been
followed up. The Countess wished to reserve to her own family all
the favours of one who might at any moment become the Queen of
England, and she kept Susan Talbot and her children in what she
called their meet place, in which that good lady thoroughly
acquiesced, having her hands much too full of household affairs to
run after queens.

There was a good deal of talk about this child's play, a thing which
had much better have been left where it was; but in a seclusion like
that of Sheffield subjects of conversation were not over numerous,
and every topic which occurred was apt to be worried to shreds. So
Lady Shrewsbury and her daughters heard the Queen's arch description
of the children's mimicry, and instantly conceived a desire to see
the scene repeated. The gentlemen did not like it at all: their
loyalty was offended at the insult to her gracious Majesty, and
besides, what might not happen if such sports ever came to her ears?
However, the Countess ruled Sheffield; and Mary Talbot and Bessie
Cavendish ruled the Countess, and they were bent on their own way.
So the representation was to take place in the great hall of the