"Mo—mothel... mama, mama!" Agatha squeled with delight, dashing toward Elara, her eyes sparkling with joy.
Seeing Agatha run with her face all messy, Elara frowned. The black mulberry clutched tightly in the little girl's hand was clearly the culprit behind her un-princessly look in Elara's eyes.
Agatha halted, glancing at her hand in shock—as if suddenly aware of a mistake.
Her eyes darted between the mulberry and Elara, weighing which was more important, before she stuffed the fruit into her mouth and chewed quickly.
Elara sighed deeply at the sight of her little angel and stepped over. She gently wiped Agatha's mouth and cheeks with a handkerchief from the nursemaid who nibbled her lower lip in quiet regret.
Then, someone descended effortlessly from the branches of the black mulberry tree, startling Elara. Leaping from a height of nearly twenty feet, the woman floated like a bird flitting from branch to branch.
