There's a new girl comming to the palace. All the older girls are excited, and jealous.

She is an elf.

Being an elven girl meant that you got to sit with the emperor in a pretty dress the seamstresses made just for you with your hair all done up and everyone would say "You look so pretty!" You have a big happy smile because you were so special.

I am not like the older girls who want to be pretty elf girls. I do not want to be pretty. Pretty means that I can't run around and jump in puddles and play hide and seek.

The Emperor presents the new elven girl to everyone. I am confused. Why is she not smiling? She should be happy. But she looks sad? Mad?

Papa's hand swallows mine. Pay attention. We do not want to be rude. I pull on my scratchy dress and pull off my too tight going to church shoes with my feet.

The pretty elven girl is sad mad.

Maybe she is like me? Maybe she does not want to be pretty. Maybe her hands want to be holding a sword, not flowers.

"I am happy to introduce Miayadriel..."

May Ariel, I do not want to be pretty also.

I will be a strong knight on a white stalion. I will cover the sky with a blanket of stars and watch over my people as I sit on the moon. I will sing them a lullaby and tuck them in and kiss them goodnight like Papa does.

"You will all be expected to speak in the common tounge so she will learn..."

I will bring May Ariel with me so we can play together. Then we do not have to be pretty.

"...And that concludes the ceremony."

I will dream, and I will take her with me.