Maeve Ambree's hands touched the dirt again, as she dropped three or four seeds in the small hole.

"Mail call!" Someone shouted, probably her father.

Maeve's head drifted off, imagining she had actually got a letter. It had been years since Maeve had heard her name at mail call.

It would be a letter asking me for my hand in marriage. From a rich Two!

Maeve knew it would never happen, but it was such a childish crazy fantasy, Maeve couldn't help but dream as if it were real.

"Maeve!" The sharp voice cut through her dream. 

She really had mail? How long had she been waiting for a letter? Her whole life? It had to at least be a few years.

A rich two wants to marry me.

She ran across the field, the sage green of her skirt blending with the blooming leaves of the peanuts peaking up from under the surface as she ran for the mail. She had to get to the letter.

"Here you go, Maeve," her father handed her a creamy colored envelope. "Don't let your head explode."

Maeve sat on a stool at the counter where her father was working on lunch. She carefully read the letter aloud to him.

"To the House of Ambree, The recent census has confirmed that a single woman between the ages of sixteen and twenty currently resides in your home. We would like to make you aware of an upcoming opportunity to honor the great nation of Illéa. Our beloved prince, is coming of age this month. As he ventures into this new part of his life, he hopes to move forward with a partner, to marry a true Daughter of Illéa. If your eligible daughter, sister, or charge is interested in possibly becoming the bride of Prince George and the adored princess of Illéa, please fill out the enclosed form and return it to your local Province Services Office. One woman from each province will be drawn at random to meet the prince. Participants will be housed at the lovely Illéa Palace in Angeles for the duration of their stay. The families of each participant will be generously compensated for their service to the royal family."

Maeve stared at the letter in disbelief. Her mind was already running. What an epic love story would it be if she won.

"Sounds special, Maeve," her father said.

"I'm doing it," she said, "I'm going to become the princess of Illéa."

—————

Maeve's anticipation made the line a problem. Her active imagination hopped over that obstacle like it was nothing. Her confidence didn't waver as she moved up in the line. Being a Four wasn't terrible, even if they were more poverty stricken than most.

Maeve felt like she could win the heart of the prince. Even against the wealthy, Maeve felt like she could do it. If she tried.

When she got into the center, she gave a dazzling smile and hoped that her name was picked, and if it was, the prince saw her breathtaking beauty. 

And she hoped they could have a beautiful lovestory.