August 7, 1554
Blois

That little brat Henry! He is growing more impossible every day. He pushed the darling Marguerite down a flight of steps and she cut her lip. Luckily Robin MacClean was right by and scooped up Marguerite and took her directly to the nursery. The doctor was called. But when Robin returned, he gave little Henry a good talking to. His Scottish burr crept into his French and thickened it. Little Henry, who is nearly four, screamed and called for his mama. “I am going to tell my mama on you. I shall be King someday and I shall put you in prison.” I stepped forward at that moment and said, “Henry, Francis shall be King and I shall be his Queen and I already am Queen of the Scots, and you must stop this blathering right now and apologize to Robin MacClean.” He ran off wailing.

Robin MacClean winked at me and said, “Thank you, Milady. I fear it’s hopeless with that one.” I fear he is right, but it was almost worth it just for the wink. How my heart did melt. Of course, it was not worth it to have dear little Marguerite’s lip cut. But Marguerite is a plucky child. I really have no fears for her.