P.S. May, don’t these strawberry tarts just make you want to cry?

My shoes I got to pick. I chose worn-out red flats. I figured I should make it clear from the start that I wasn’t princess material.

I know there was a time, when our country was new, when the assignment of these numbers helped organize something that was on the brink of not existing. But we are no longer that country. We are so much more now.

Ah yes, the man or the crown. I'm afraid some can't tell the difference.

I guessed princesses-in-training didn’t wear pants.

Could it be that simple? Tell one story to one generation and repeat it until it was accepted as fact?

I curled closer to May, comforted by her warmth.