“What is it with you and apples lately, Sioni? I swear, your poor father had to ask the neighbors for some because you’ve made us pick all our trees bare.” I handed her a ruby red apple from the tray.

Sioni sat down at the table, taking care not to sit on her hair. She said, “It must be that story I’ve been reading lately. ‘Snow-white.’”

“Well, I suppose it’s better than craving chocolate or something else equally lacking in nutrition.” I scrutinized my daughter carefully as she bit into the apple. She had done something different to her hair: instead of wearing it loose, she’d braided it tight against her head. It made her look more grown-up, somehow.

“You look very pretty today, Sioni.”

“Why, thank you, mother. Not like there’s anyone to impress, though.”

“That’s not true! Dad and I visit you every day.”

“Don’t forget the townspeople.”

It was true that the townspeople liked to come and gawk at her.

My daughter looked thoughtfully at the half-eaten apple in her hand. “And there’s that prince, too…”