Anne is a gentle, unfortunate girl, who’s life has been smooth as her bouncy blond curls. Orphaned at eight and soon ward of the state, quickly pawned off to an Sir Gerald Hoff in need of cheap hands for manual labor to work on his lands . . . but today she is lucky, for a kindly fairy has come to visit her:

“You’re future entails what you’ve been denied – you’ll wed a prince,” the fairy smiles with pride, “think of the wedding, my soon to be bride! The gown and the cake of luxurious sort, and large wedding hall where you may cavort to act as the envy of all of high court. A gown made of silk, the color of milk, sewn by the hands of the ilk who’ve crafted for noblewomen and queens, dripping with diamonds and pearls of fine sheen coveted even by those of high means.” And here is where the fairy stops for young Anne, so that she may further imagine whatever she can, so that she too may construct her own fantastical plans for a future not mired in poverty.

“But I like girls!”