JAMES. Ramsay, can we get out of here yet? What are you doing with that?

RAMSAY. It’s… I was admiring it.

JAMES. It’s sweet, isn’t it? It’s a present for the Queen. I taught her to wear that colour, you know.

RAMSAY. Did you?

JAMES. She had no idea, it brings out the colour in her eyes. Whatever age does to her face she’ll always have magnificent eyes.

She’ll know that’s what I mean, she usually understands.

RAMSAY. Does she?

JAMES. Well, come on! Wrap it up. And the jewels there. Take them to her women. Tell them she’s to have them all on her birthday next month.

(Moving off.) How long does it take to saddle a fucking horse.

JAMES exits. Carefully RAMSAY starts to fold the dress.

PHEMY comes to take it from him. RAMSAY exits as PHEMY turns into –

The Garden, a Few Weeks Later

A sunny summer’s day in the garden. ANNABELLA seems to be looking for something on the grass.

MARGARET takes the dress from PHEMY and holds it against her, twirling as if dancing.

MARGARET. Can you believe I ever wore this colour? God, what was I thinking?

JOHN enters.

John! Hullo. We heard you arrive. Where have you been?

JOHN. I was talking to Prince James.

MARGARET. Oh good, he’d had enough of us today, hadn’t he, Annabella? We’ve had a few glasses, Lord John, and I’m afraid we’re getting a bit silly.

ANNABELLA. You speak for yourself.

MARGARET (to JOHN). It’s my birthday.

JOHN. I know.

MARGARET. Is that why you’re here? What did you bring me for my birthday?

JOHN. What do you want?

MARGARET. The King left me this…

She considers it.

Do you know, Phemy? I don’t think I’ll ever wear that. But I doubt it’ll fit anyone else. Should we cut it up for remaking?

PHEMY. Seems a shame.

MARGARET. It’s the colour of another time, when my head was full of fear and jealousy and poison… Burn it.

PHEMY (shocked). No! You can’t!

MARGARET. I can. But make sure you never tell the King.

She gives the dress to PHEMY.

JOHN. I know he’s the man for fashion but if you want the truth I’ve always thought the King’s taste was a bit… gaudy.

MARGARET. And you’re so restrained, aren’t you, Lord John?

As she exits PHEMY sees something moving through the grass.

PHEMY. Annabella! Annabella! There’s a whole load of them scuttling off this way.

ANNABELLA. Oh, Mary Mother of God, well, don’t scare them! They’re running fast enough as it is.

ANNABELLA hurries after PHEMY.

MARGARET. We got these new birds. A birthday gift from Oslo. They’re so beautiful, John! Little fat… fat… fat chickens with a comb that goes like this. (Mimes a comb over one eye.)