The loveliest maiden at the festival, dressed in a gown of peacock feathers. Every head turns to stare in awing wonder, as if she is of an immortal being, a goddess.

With an innocent, childlike charm, she ignores the unruly whistles and chants of young men who try to woo her in their direction. She has only come to enjoy the simple pleasures of life as she gracefully strolls along wooden carts of imported goods. Foreign are the smell of the fresh food, yet she samples each kind, savoring the flavors of unique spices. She wanders by an old storyteller as he keeps his audience in an entranced state with his profound imagery. She stays to listen awhile as he tells of far off lands that she has never heard nor dreamt about.

Reality collides with her as her focus comes into view of the two glaring eyes of her hateful stepmother. Her heart pounds rapidly inside her chest as she runs faster and faster away from her surrounding fate, through a field of thorny trees that grab at her, struggling to pull her back. She breaks free but stumbles and falls. Up again, she keeps running until she reaches home. A strange, overwhelming awareness creeps over her as if she has lost something....
one of her mother's precious golden slippers.