| From her tower the princess gazed down across the land, leaning upon the balcony with her chin in hand. "Where, oh where, is my prince?" She asked in silvery tones, of the song birds and the butterflies that kept her company. She was the epitomy of beauty, tall and willowy, with pale hair, and paler skin, her eyes the blue of warm summer sky. A sigh escaped her full lips as--"SEDONIE!" If the yell didn't pull her from her reverie, the middle-aged woman in rough woolens that matched her own shaking her did. Sedonie was no great beauty, with her uncontrolable mass of brown curls, and hefty frame. Her eyes were brown, as plain as they came. She lived in a little cottage next to a lord's vineyard, where she worked picking grapes, and making wine. Oh, and of course day-dreaming she was wearing silk, not grape-stained wool. |
 Image(C) Karen Krajenbrink |
