“Priscella, the way you fuss, no prince will have you.” Spoiled. The king brought her silk from abroad. The Queen disapproved. “How many times has the royal seamstress made a pretty gown, only to have you give it to the chambermaid?”
“It itches, Mama. So bad.”
“But the ball’s tonight.”
“I have…”
“Not that old thing. The rag barely fits.”
“I won’t go. The canapés are disgusting.”
“Don’t you start with umami again.”
“Anyway, I couldn’t sleep last night.”
“Try the dress, Lola, there is not a pea in your mattress.”
“Must be a rock.”
“Show me a bruise, then.”
Monica's Monday Morning Flash 