June 16, 1554
Anet

We are back at Anet and not a moment too soon. Queen Catherine, of course, is not with us, as she never comes here. I myself spent some days at Meudon visiting Grandmama. The baby Charles has grown so. He now rolls over and smiles and reaches for objects you dangle in front of him. Aunt Anne and Grandmama both talk of how they hope that Queen Catherine will soon again be with child for it always improves her mood. She has lost more babies than I knew. This I never knew – that she was married nearly ten years before giving birth to Francis. I cannot imagine having babies. I mean, I know I want them, but somehow I picture them about four months old and very chubby and adorable like little Charles. Actually having them seems very mysterious to me, although I do know something about how that all comes about. The four Marys and I talk about it quite a bit.

Ronsard is also here with us at Anet. These are the days of Midsummer – the longest days of the year, the times of briefest darkness. It makes the nights slip by magically spun with starlight and moonlight between the dusk and the dawn. The dusk gathers from seven in the evening until nearly ten at night. It gives us a long twilight in which the world turns lavender, then a tender grey before the darkness thickens. That is why our masquerade ball shall not begin until an hour before midnight. We hope that the King will come. Oh, surely he will, for he loves dressing up with Diane and dancing under the stars.

With Ronsard we have studied much Greek and Latin literature in which the ancient pagan gods come out to frolic on this shortest night of the year. So we are all now deciding which deities and sprites and spirits we want to be. Janet Sinclair and her husband, John Kemp, and Lord Erskine plan to go as the three Fates who spin the thread of human destiny. Diane will undoubtedly go as her namesake, the goddess of the moon and the hunt, and if King Henry comes he will be Phoebus, the sun god. Francis is thinking of going as the Man in the Moon or Cupid with golden wings and a bow. Mary Seton wants to be Phillida, a shepherd girl. I want to go as Philomela, but everyone cries no, that her story is too sad. King Tereus cut out her tongue for fear that she would tell his wife, her sister, that he loved Philomela more. He then abandoned her, telling everyone she was dead. But Philomela survived and was transformed into a nightingale who sang her story with a most beautiful voice. Master Cellini is here and shall help us with our costumes. He says he can design for me a most wonderful nightingale gown with jewel-studded wings and a feathered mask. Midsummer’s Eve is only a few days away, so we must get to work.