A new painter, Nicholas de Vent, has been commanded to come from Flanders to paint a picture, a massive near-life-size portrait of the royal family in the style of the late Hans Holbein. I am so proud that there is to be a family portrait of us all. I have triumphed in bringing this family together, in persuading the king to acknowledge his daughters publicly as princesses and heirs, in bringing father and son under the same roof. I may not be able to help them to understand and love each other, but at least they have met. The father is not an entirely imaginary being to this lonely little boy. The child is not the phantom son of a sainted mother but a real boy, deserving attention in his own right.

The king and I spend a happy afternoon discussing how the portrait shall look, and how it must fit on the wall at Whitehall Palace, where it is to be placed forever. People hundreds of years from now will see it as if they were standing before us, as if they were being presented to us. We decide that it is to be almost like an altarpiece, with the king center stage and I beside him, Edward leaning against the throne, his heir. On either side, almost in side panels defined with some frame we can’t yet decide, will be the two girls, Elizabeth and Mary. I want to see a lot of color in the picture, on the walls and on the ceiling. The girls and I are keen embroiderers and love strong colors and patterns, and I want the portrait to reflect this. I want it to be as beautiful as the things that we make. The king suggests a ruined Boulogne glimpsed behind the throne on the skyline with his standard flying from the crumbling turret, and the painter says that he will sketch it and show it to us.

The work will start with preliminary sketches done of each of us, individually. The princesses are to go first. I help Elizabeth and Mary pick out their gowns and their jewels for their sittings with the artist. He is to draw them in chalk and charcoal and then copy their images onto the rich background, which the apprentices will paint in his studio.

Henry comes to watch Master de Vent make his first sketches of Mary. She is wearing a skirt of deep scarlet and an overgown with sleeves of brocade. She has a golden French hood on her auburn hair and she looks beautiful. She is standing a little stiffly and she bobs a curtsey, afraid to move, as the king comes in. Henry blows her a kiss, as if he were a courtier.