As any other day, I begin to prepare the children’s lunch as young princess Anastasia runs through the kitchen.

“Princess! I have repeatedly told you not to run through the kitchen. Have I not?” My face becomes stern, my voice serious, I raise an eyebrow.

“You have…” She mumbles.

“I did not hear you, princess. Princesses do not mumble.” I cross my arms.

“You have.” She repeats properly this time. I smile softly and pat her head.

“That’s much better. Now, why were you running?” I turn away from her to finish the lunches. 

She fidgets with her dress, “Maria told me if I could run around the palace three times then she would give me her doll.”

I cannot help but chuckle, “How about this…” I kneel, facing her, I adjust her tiara. “If you can pick me the prettiest flower in the garden, I’ll make you a doll.” Her eyes widen, a smile spreads across her rosy cheeks, she nods excitedly. She rushes into the garden nearly bumping into a tall man and her mother, the queen.