She’s no more than four
When she stares at the crate,
Like so many girls before,
Except she has the key to open the gate.

The contents sparkle and shine, and glimmer and glisten,
So she tries on some dresses and begins to speak
Hoping that her subjects are eager to listen;
But no one is there to hear her speak, because they haven’t defeated the dragon at the top of the peak.

As she waits in anticipation for her subjects arrival, she dances and twirls
Imagining how all of her loyal subjects will stop and stare,
She thinks of their inexorable adoration while she is primping her long golden curls
Since they are the only things preventing her from walking on air.