She suddenly felt self conscious, being surrounded by all these rich women. As she walked to the meeting place for the competition, Samantha realized that she was the only peasant who decided to join. The others have already been discouraged, and have succumbed to their so-called fate.

And also has she realized, that as she walked, in her simply blue dress and sandals, that she was being stared at, and mocked by her own crowd, the pheasants.

Dread filling her chest, she refused to turn around and yell at each of them, who dared talk behind her back. Was it her own fault that she wanted to join? Was there really no...hope for her that they already mock her defeat?

She gritted her teeth and blocked out their whispered mocks, squaring her shoulders she did, and she held her chin high.

"What does she think she is doing?"

"A peasant, joining?! Bah, she has no chance!"

"Poor girl, who filled her head with such fantasies?"

"The poor have no chance on this contest, she shouldn't even have tried."

"The Prince will not even glance at her."

"She's stupid, I bet."

She gritted her teeth again, her fingers twitching.

She was one of them! Shouldn't they have supported her?

She shouldn't have even hoped. disappointment filled her chest, as she began second-guessing her decision.

Should she...?

Maybe she shouldn't d-

She shook herself out of it, her lips falling into a thin, firm line. "I can do this." She said to herself encouragingly, and this time, as if something had changed, and even she may have not noticed it, her chin was raised higher, her shoulders flat and in the same line of confidence and courage, her steps taken with pride and nobility.

The whispers died down as they watched her disappear to the gates of the palace.

A totally different person.

A person, fit to be queen maybe...?