Later, you're sitting down on a bench, riffling through your coupon booklet for ideas on where to go next. A coupon for a free manicure tickles your fancy, and so you're off to find that beauty salon.
"Oh, how pretty you are! Such elegance!" the lady says once you arrive. You don't think you'll ever get tired of hearing those compliments.
You feel you should make an effort to act the part of a proper girl. It would be nice to hear compliments about your inner beauty as well as your outer beauty.
You curtsy, delicately pinching the sides of your dress with upturned pinkys and lifting them up as you bend your knees and bow your head. Several long golden curls take the opportunity to fall forward, cascading down your chest. You've surprised yourself with how expertly you perform the maneuver, despite having only done it once before to a lesser degree.
The woman chuckles. "And such manners, too! Oh, if only my daughters followed your example."
Your face is positively radiant with delight. It's really working. After such short time as a girl, you're already getting the hang of it.
"What would you like, dear?" the woman asks.
You pull the coupon from your little blue purse. "I noticed your free coupon," you begin. Your voice sounds a bit too casual. You pause as you reconsider your wording and enunciation. "May I please have a manicure, miss?" You ask in a slower, higher voice that drips with honey. It's a bit more than what you were going for, but now that you hear it, it sounds good.
If the woman noticed the sudden change in your speech, she doesn't show it. She smiles and takes the coupon. "It would be a pleasure for such a pretty thing," she says. You sit down at the table and the woman sits opposite, preparing her tools. She beings to file your nails until their short ends are perfect semicircles. "What color would you like?" she asks.
You hadn't even thought about that. Pink is the obvious choice, but you aren't wearing anything pink. Your best bet is to rely on the woman's judgment.
"I would like a color that goes well with my dress and hair," you say in the sweeter voice. "But I'm not quite sure what the best choice could be. Do you have any recommendations?" With every word, it becomes easier to talk in a proper manner. You don't have to think so hard about it anymore.
"A bright orange would do well, I think," she replies. She goes over to a cabinet and browses the multitude of polishes. You estimate there are over five thousand choices on those cabinets. How could she possibly choose one so precise?
"Ah! Excellent!" she says, plucking one off the shelf. "Sunset Peak." The bottle's color reminds you of the reddish orange on the inside of a ripe plum. "Will this do?"
"Yes," you coo pleasantly. "It looks lovely."
"Not as lovely as you, sweetie," the woman smiles. "But it will certainly add to your gorgeous looks." She begins to apply the polish to your short, dainty nails. You can barely see them from beneath the wide frills of your sleeve cuffs. "Make sure not to move an inch," she warns. "These frills here are so close I'm liable to paint them by accident."
"My apologies," you say.
"Nonsense, my dear girl, it's fine. You got this at the wardrobe down the hall, yes? Gwynneth does such marvelous tailoring. And all without a needle! What I wouldn't give for a spell that colored peoples' nails instantly. But then, when would there be time for chatting?"
Your giggles carry the sweetness of a cherub being tickled. The woman smiles even more broadly. She begins to talk about her two daughters, neither of whom have very good manners or fashion sense.
"All done," she says, putting the brush back in the bottle. She picks up a cylinder that looks like a flashlight with no head, and points it down at your fingers. She turns it on and you feel a rush of wind. She sweeps all ten fingertips with the device and shuts it off as quickly as she turned it on. "That should take care of it."
You pick up your delicate hands and examine them closely. The light sunset hue looks excellent with your deep blue sleeves.
"It's simply marvelous," you say. "Thank you ever so much. I love it!"
"Think nothing of it, hon. Just make sure you wear those nails as proudly as you do that lovely hair."
You curtsy again, as deliberately graceful as before. You're almost exploding with glee, and your cute little face shows it. The woman sees your expression and smiles even more. "You take care now," she says.
"You as well!" you say as you glide off down the mall corridor. It's not just the nails that you're happy about Bringing a smile to that woman's face somehow meant more than anything else. More than your outfit, and more than the compliments. For some reason, making others happy through your presence makes you happy too. You almost wanted to hug her. This is definitely the start of a brand-shiny-new you.