That was all, save the one thing that had taken up the majority of the space in my knapsack. I had spotted it on my way out of Margarete’s room, gracing the foot of her bed. She had laid it out for her to wear—no doubt to Prince Charmant’s ball. There was a note on top of it, I recognized the family tailor’s handwriting. It had to be let out for her. I knew it would be a dead give away that I was gone, but I couldn’t stand the thought of Margarete wearing it, let alone altering it. Without hesitation I took my mother’s wedding dress from the bed.

I saw it now, wrinkled as it was, laying on the bed with Georgette fussing over the skirts. Even under the durress I had shown it the ivory taffeta looked wonderful. It was a simple design with a full skirt that cinched to an hourglass bodice with a straight neckline. The sleeves, nearly off the shoulder, would keep tight to my arms, cuffing my wrists. Crystal embellishments swirled like ivy along the bodice and, though slightly out of fashion, I found it perfect.