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“Perhaps in time she will become more graceful.”
    Everywhere I went during the three-day celebration, King Henri made it a point to present me as “my daughter the queen of Scotland.” I overheard him telling everyone that from the day the little dauphin and I had met “the two got on together as though they had known each other all their lives.”
    It was true. The dauphin, though a year and a month younger than I, had attached himself to me like a limpet. He seemed to prefer my companionship to anyone else’s, running after me and calling, “W-w-wait for m-m-me, M-M-Marie!” When I let him catch up, his pleased smile was my reward.
    We were not yet formally betrothed. The wedding—which I knew would surely be even grander than my uncle’s to Anne d’Este—was still far off. But as the future queen of France, I was well aware of the attention I attracted wherever I went. And now, at the dazzling wedding feast, by the light of hundreds of candles, the moment had come for me and my future husband to dance together before not just our family but—as Lady Fleming reminded me
—the whole world.
    The musicians played an introduction as the dauphin and I took our places on the polished stone floor; the wedding guests—with the smiling bride and groom seated above them—stood aside to give us plenty of room. My shoes felt too tight. Had my feet grown since they were made for me? And my gown was weighed down by the embroidery and lace and jewels. Poor François looked more than frightened—he looked terrified.
    â€œIt worked perfectly when we practiced yesterday in front of Lady Fleming,” I whispered. “It will work perfectly now.”
    â€œAll r-r-right,” he stammered.
    â€œRemember to smile, François, no matter what happens!”
    I suspect we looked rather odd, for I was half a head taller than the dauphin. But the difference in our sizes did not matter, and it did not matter that our steps were not perfect, because the wedding guests were delighted simply to see us together in a make-believe courtship. When the dance ended, we were expected to kiss tenderly, but because I was so much taller, I had to bend my knees so that the little dauphin was not forced to stretch up on his tiptoes to reach my lips.
    It must have gone off well enough, for my future father-in-law, the king, was beaming, Queen Catherine was nodding indulgently, and Madame de Poitiers was smiling triumphantly while the assembled crowd applauded and murmured their approval.
    ***
    The French court celebrated Christmas Eve with a special Mass in the royal chapel, followed by a great banquet the next day. On January 6, the Feast of the Epiphany, gifts were exchanged. With Lady Fleming’s help I had painstakingly stitched small bookmarks in silk thread on velvet for all the members of the royal family, as well as for Diane de Poitiers.
    Later in January we observed the dauphin’s fifth birthday It was a happy occasion, with plenty of sweets to eat and jugglers to enjoy, and no one forced François to dance.
    I loved dancing as much as François disliked it, but we did have some common interests and occasionally set off together in what we called “little adventures.” A favorite exploit involved stealing into the larder when we thought we were unobserved and helping ourselves to cream-filled puffs of pastry or the fruit tarts glazed with jam that were the dauphin’s particular favorites. On the day before a feast or royal banquet, the pastry kitchen was crowded and noisy and we knew that it was best not to go there. But on the day
after
the feast we were guaranteed a delightful supply of leftover confections, and we could eat all we wanted. We were united by our fondness for sweets as well as a taste for petty thievery.
    ***
    On the second of February, the French court celebrated the Feast of the Purification of the Virgin and the Presentation of