Pirouette looked around her bedchamber and sighed. Could this room be any gloomier? She thought. Even with dozens of candles and a roaring fire, the room seemed dank and dark. The palace was nearly a century old, built during the reign of a spendthrift king. In the last years of the old King’s reign, little was spent on the upkeep of the royal residence, and it was showing its age.
“What is troubling, Your Majesty?” Asked Abigail, the only person at Court who had the privilege of addressing the Queen without first being spoken to by Her Majesty.
“What do you think of the decor of the palace?” Replied Pirouette.
“Well,” Abigail hesitated before continuing, “It’s a bit outdated, I would say.”