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The princes fall for the princess.

When Joline was much younger, she had a sort of platonic love. Well, several, actually—since from an early age she dreamt of a prince charming with very specific traits: tall, strong, cold, and full of character. She imagined herself as an “anti-princess,” dressed not in pink but in black, not a helpless maiden in distress, but a troublesome one who was always getting into trouble. And always—she repeated, always—her prince would arrive to save the day and swear eternal love.

Because of such an extravagant fantasy from an odd little girl—Eastham’s nature simply wouldn’t allow her to be ordinary—she often fell innocently and childishly for men like that. She met many, and as she grew (in every way except height), some of them truly started to resemble that idealized childhood prince.

-Joline- said one of those men one afternoon.

-Yes?

It should be noted that Joline had an extremely extroverted personality. Her innate charm, her energy, and the ease with which she interacted with the opposite sex earned her quite the crowd of male friends. Many of them, nearly princes.

-We have to stop being friends- the man said.

-Why?- she replied with a concerned look—though she'd already seen it coming and had to hide the delight it all brought her.

-It’s just... I struggle to see you as a little girl.

He was the third that week to say something similar. Suddenly, all those boys she’d chased for years were now chasing her. Joline could barely contain her joy—and how amusing it all seemed.

And when you’re happy, you must dance.

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