To Marry a Prince

by Page, Sophie

  ‘Cathedral,’ she shouted after him.

  But he had already shut the door behind him.

  So she sat down in front of the mirror and looked at herself, in her fairytale dress, with her fairytale tiara and the bouquet of soft summer flowers, with the trails of ivy that Richard had insisted on. And then she looked at the ring he had designed for her. And read his poem.

  And blushed.

  And laughed.

  And blushed and read it again.

  And dabbed, terribly, terribly carefully at the corner of her eyes.

  Then picked up her lovely skirts and went to promise her love everything she had to give.