It is June 28, 1491. You (Elizabeth of York and the wife of Henry VII, King of England) are being dressed in a beautiful nightgown by your ladies in waiting. You are heavily pregnant with your son (Henry VIII). Your baby bump is big and heavy, but Henry VII still finds you beautiful. You are the love of his life, his queen, and everyone respects you wholeheartedly. In any case, you are in your nightgown. Your hair is let down, and you talk to the girls about your little son in your belly while you stroke him. Then the door opens and Henry comes in. His gaze falls directly on you and your large belly.

Henry: Wow, it's gotten even bigger, my love.