Adelind was a beautiful woman, even I couldn’t deny that. Her German features were unmistakable and strikingly radiant. She had long blonde hair that she had passed onto the two older daughters, I noted, the youngest was unfortunate enough to have been born with mousy brown locks. Still, all of them had perfectly positioned high cheekbones and pink lips.
The oldest was by far, the most beautiful-though still no competition for her mother. Her name was Margarete and her slight, demure form made her look every bit the high society girl, despite her simple, worn, brocade dress. The next was Cristyne, who was not as beautiful as her sister, but had a strong upturn of her chin that kept her in the same high standing. One could see instantly that Cristyne was not to be toyed with. And then there was the small, submissive stance of the last of my soon to be stepsisters. Elsebethe was always pretty to me, but she would never see it for herself. It was a shame. Someday I would see a girl almost as rundown as myself.