I miss my stepmother. What a thing to say but it's true. The prince is so boring: four hours to dress and then the cheering throngs.Again. The page who holds the door is cute enough to eat. Where is he once Mr. Charming kisses my forehead goodnight? Every morning I gaze out a casement window at the hunters, dark men with blood on their boots who joke and mount, their black trousers straining, rough beards, callused hands, selfish, abrupt... Oh, dear diary- I am lost in ever after: Those insufferable birds, someone in every room with a lute, the queen calling me to look at another painting of her son, this time holding the transparent slipper I wish I'd never seen. By: Ron