Once on the surface, the prince dresses her up as a pageboy, and
occasionally kisses her passionately on the forehead and says that he
might—he might—just marry her. And then he marries
someone else—the girl
he thinks saved his life, who is also very beautiful, and, I
might note, not dressed up as a pageboy, and who does not ask any
pointed questions about the beautiful voiceless girl who has been
sleeping at the prince’s door on a velvet cushion. Prince, I feel we
need to talk about a few things, including the sleeping arrangements
you’ve made for little voiceless foundling girls that you occasionally
kiss on the forehead, but we may not have that kind of time.
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