“She hurried off, leaving Rose feeling like the tiny soap suds left over from a burst bubble.”

“Blanche reached out and clung to her sister's hand. Rose felt her thin mittened fingers clutching her own. She knew her sister was beginning to be frightened. But Rose was too caught up in the mystery to be afraid. She strained to hear the enchanted song Bear was listening to. Her heart was pounding, but to the rhythm of a marching drum, not fear. There was a sense of purpose here, and although she did not understand it, she rejoiced to be a part of it.”

“You're drinking in the joy of life,' Bear told her when she tried to explain why she was laughing. 'There's so much opportunity for drinking deeply of it, and we very rarely do it. When you do, it makes you feel alive all over.”

“Can you imagine anything more tragic?' Rose asked. 'To be born a princess --native and to the manor born-- and then to forget who you are and settle for being something horrible like an--an accountant!”

“I'm not afraid," she said defensively. Now he seemed humored. "Of course. You're not afraid of anything. At least you think you're not. That's why I'm sending you home." Thank you for your advice." Rose thrust her chin in the air and marched away, not looking back. She was almost sure she heard him laughing softly behind her.”

“Standing in the back of the dark opera house and gazing at the huge stage before them, gay with gold-scrolled scenery and sumptuously costumed singers, the air vivid with bright music, was one of the most enthralling experiences of Blanche's life. For a time, she forgot her doubts about reality in the sheer delight of illusion. But, as Rose reminded her during the intermission, perhaps it wasn't illusion. Perhaps it was a glimpse of what reality was really like.”

“Oh, but a real princess would know that hard work ennobles the soul,' Rose objected. 'That would be one of the signs.”