They promenade before they start and there is a tableau to welcome them to the arena. The king himself is the centre of the scene, dressed as a knight from Jerusalem and the ladies of my court are in his train, dressed in costume and sitting on a great wagon that comes in towed by horses who are draped in yards of blue silk. They represent the sea, I can tell, but what the ladies are supposed to be is beyond me. Given the brilliant smile of little Katherine Howard as she stands at the front, her hand raised to shield her bright eyes, I think she is supposed to be lookout mermaid, or something of that nature, perhaps a siren. Certainly she is swathed in white muslin drapery which might represent sea foam and she has accidentally let it fall so that one lovely shoulder is showing, as if she is emerging naked from the sea.

When I have a little more command of the language I shall talk to her about taking care with her reputation and modesty. She does not have a mother, who died when she was a little child, and her father is a careless spendthrift who lives abroad in Calais. She was brought up by a step-grandmother, Jane tells me, so perhaps she has not had anyone to warn her that the king is most alert to any sort of improper behaviour. Her dress today is perhaps allowed, since it is part of a tableau; but the way it is sliding down to show her slim white back is, I know, very wrong.

The ladies dance in the arena and then curtsey and escort the king to my box and he comes to sit beside me. I smile and give him my hand, it is as if we are part of the pageant, and the crowd roars their pleasure to see him kiss my hand. It is my part to smile very sweetly and curtsey to him and welcome him to his great reinforced seat which towers over mine. Lady Jane sees that he is served with a cup of wine and some sweetmeats, and she nods to me that I am to take my seat beside him.

The ladies retreat as half a dozen knights, all in dark armour and flying a sea-blue flag, ride in, so I imagine that they are the tide or Neptune or something. I feel very ignorant not understanding all the meaning of this, but it hardly matters for once they ride around the ring and the heralds bawl out their titles and the crowds roar their approval the jousting will start.

The crowds are packed into the tiered seating and the poorer people are crammed into the spaces between. Every time a knight comes to present his arms to me there is a great bellow of approval from the crowd and they shout ‘Anna! Anna Cleves!’ over and over again. I stand and smile and wave my thanks, I cannot imagine what I have done to earn such public acclaim, but it is so wonderful to know that the people of England have taken to me, just as naturally and easily as I have taken to them. The king stands up beside me and takes my hand before them all.