Celia
As we lived so close to the palace, I did not have to share my journey with any of the other girls. The other selected from Angeles was the daughter of Queen America's friend Lady Marlee Woodwork, so Amelia (one of the many faces that I had learnt in the last week) had lived at the palace for her whole life.

All of the streets on my journey to the palace were lined with people, waving Illean flags, and white roses (the flower of the Angeles province, that I was currently wearing in my hair). I was disappointed that the guards would not let me wind down the windows and lean out to greet the people, however, I waved through the window anyway, unable to believe how many people had turned out to wish me well.

Some of the people were holding signs, I saw one that read 'Go Gardener Go!' and another that had a cut-out picture of me stuck beside one of the princes. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

The car was driving up the palace driveway in no time. I hardly got a chance to look at the beautiful structure as I was ushered from the car into the palace by several women dressed in maid's outfits. It seemed that I was one of the first to arrive, as when I arrived in the makeover room, there were many empty stations, apart from one, where Amelia Woodwork sat, having her nails done.

I didn't have time to greet her, as I was pulled towards another station.

"So!" said a bright and bubbly woman, placing her hands on the back of the chair I had been placed on, "how would you like us to make you look?"

"I-um..."

"Well, if you don't mind me saying, you look quite a lot like the queen, we can try and emphasise that similarity for you if you'd like. Or we can play it down."

"Uh...can't I just be me?" I asked, sounding quite small when I said it.

"Of course you can sweetie," she patted my head, like I was a child, "give me a hint, what does 'me' mean to Celia Gardener?"

"Nature," I blurted out quickly, "I mean, I love flowers and-"

"Say no more," the woman smiled, "we'll give you a polish and then we'll do your hair, makeup and clothes."

When she said polish, she literally meant polish. I was rubbed clean with sweet-smelling soaps, they tried to rub away the callouses on my palms from hours spent holding a trowel, but it was hopeless and they eventually gave up. My nails were given a clean like they had never had, and reshaped.

The women who did my nails gave me a choice of about a million colours that my nails could be painted. I opted for a light teal colour. They painted my fingernails and my toenails, then the women moved onto another batch of girls, who had just arrived, causing a new excited buzz in the room.

The next wave of pampering I received was on my hair. It was washed, then they cut it several inches shorter, they thinned it out and somehow made it look even more alive. It was blow-dried, and straightened, as I had asked them to leave it down, rather than put it up.

Then it was my makeup, they asked what colour scheme I was going for, and I showed them the colour of my nails. They simply nodded, and I was given a light coat of teal eyeshadow, a bit of eyeliner, some mascara and a bit of lipstick. I know all these names, simply because this was what the women told me they were doing as they worked.

Once this was completed, I was led off towards a rack of clothes, with a label that said 'Lady Celia'. Another maid helped me chose a dress. The dress we settled on was also teal, like my makeup and nails. It was adorned with a flowery pattern on the top, and at my middle, it ballooned out and fell to the ground in waves. It was secured by a baby pink ribbon at the waist behind me. I chose some simple black shoes, which looked as though they would be the easiest to walk in.

Once I was dressed, I was taken toward a seat in front of a camera.

"Lady Celia," the man operating the camera smiled as I sat down, "can you tell me a little about your makeover?"

"Um, they cut my hair and straightened it," I said, with a little smile, "they painted my finger and toenails," I showed my fingernails to the camera, "and they gave me this gorgeous dress!"

"Thank you," the man smiled, "you can go and sit over there now," he pointed towards some sofas, that was empty apart from one girl.

I smiled at him again and made my way over to the sofas.

"Hello," I smiled at Amelia Woodwork, who was sat on the sofa, looking at her hands, "I'm Celia Gardener."

She looked up at me and smiled, "I'm Amelia," she got to her feet and hugged me, before taking my hand and pulling me down to sit beside her.

"Wow, I love how they've done your makeup!" She said, "that colour looks great with your hair!"

"Thanks," I smiled back, "your dress is beautiful!" It was very pretty. She looked almost bridal, in a white floor-length dress, adorned with little silver gemstones, that made her look as though she was glittering. She swished her gown with her hands absentmindedly. 

"Well, between you and me, Shal- I mean Prince Shalom's favourite colour is green, so you've already got yourself a win there," Amelia said quietly.

"Really?" I asked, leaning closer to her, "do you know the Princes well then?"

"Oh yes, since we were in nappies," she said with a laugh.

"So why did you enter the Selection then?" I asked curiously, "you already live in the palace. The only reason to enter would be..." I trailed off, as she shot me a sly smile, "Which one is it?" I asked quickly, in an excited tone.

Amelia's smile widened, until she burst into laughter, "I'm sure that you'll find out!"

Two more girls joined us before another woman bustled over to us. She introduced herself as Silvia, the woman whom I had spoken to on the phone, she asked us to follow her so that we could meet the Royal family before we would be escorted to our rooms.

Silvia took us into a corridor with four doors. She told us that a member of the Royal family was behind each and that we would have a few minutes to introduce ourselves to each. I was directed toward the first door.

I took a deep breath before I reached out and turned the handle of the door.