"Capital of China?" "Beijing." I responded swiftly. Mrs. Adams nodded. "France?" "Paris, Mrs Adam's you of all people know I know that." I sighed, rolling my eyes. Mrs. Adams pursed her lips. "Practice makes perfection." "So I've been told." I replied, a little sharper than I meant. Mrs. Adams' face soured and she left the room. Ever since the letter arrived, my mood had been all over. This was what I had prepared for my whole life, yet it felt so... surreal. I ordered my maids to fetch me a dress of the finest silks and velvets. I needed to look like a queen. Like competition. The dress was tight fitted at the waist and had plush loose sleeves. The colors were of deep greens and made me look quite regal. All I was missing was a crown. 

I took a soft makeup brush and sweeped it across the high of my cheeks and the bridge of my nose, covering up my splatter of freckles. A bit of cherry red stain and I looked perfect. I sweeped my hair into a regal updo and arose. At the bottom of the staircase just outside the front door was a carriage, ready to sweep me into my new reality. Or while at my local Provinces Services office, same difference. I sashayed through the now open doors, and entered the carriage. After a few minutes' drive, I clipped a flower to my hair, as to represent my province. Once at my destination, I exited the carriage and steadily walked towards the photographers. 

After mere seconds of waiting, I stepped forwards, giving my most royal look. The girls next in line snorted. "What's so funny!" I snapped, turning my gaze to the girl. Her lips were a blush pink and her powdered white hair was styled in an exaggerated up-do. "Nothing, you just look like a pig that's all." She said, smiling like someone drenched her in honey comb. "Says the girl straight out of the mid seventeenth century. You think that will impress the prince?" I reminded her. It was going to be fun to watch her anger as I was selected. The photographer seemed to be enjoying our little one on one but refocused my attention to the pictures. After a few good shots and nasty glares, my turn was over. 

I slipped the letter down the shoot and walked over to a table full of pastries and sat next to countless other girls waiting for their turn, or waiting for someone else. "Might as well leave now, the prince doesn't like charity cases." A girl snapped. The girl she was speaking with burst into snotty tears and ran off before her turn was called. I wrinkled my nose in disgust then stopped myself before it became permanent. I can't afford to show any signs of imperfection. The powdered white hair girl from before came to sit next to me and smiled her sugary smile. "What's your name, I'm Queen Frettie." She said, her words coated in sweetness. "As if they'd allow a girl named Frettie to be queen." I snorted, the petty words leaving my lips before I could stop them. Frettie blushed furiously and turned to talk to an arriving girl. "Intimidation won't work on everyone." The girl on my other side said. "So sending girls into tears is better then?" I replied sarcastically. "Khloris." She said, holding out her hand. "You're the first girl I've met here with any common sense. "Scarlett." I replied, shaking her hand. I arose from my seat, smiling tensely and Khloris. 

As I rode back, I turned on the Tv and noticed the prince on the screen. His tousled hair and intent eyes were suddenly making me blush. I switched the channel, attempting to bat away the blooming warmth in my chest. He was handsome. I wouldn't deny it. I was just beginning to realize how thick the competition was. No other girl was a margin of my wit or beauty, but the fact that they acted as if they were, bothered me. The screen shifted to footage of girls lining up to send in their application. Some girls wore revealing dresses and pounds of makeup whereas others were fresh out of work, wearing uniforms and soot on their faces. I sighed. None of these girls were fit for the selection. Fit to be queen. But I was.