The prince leaned wearily on the arm of his Chinese Chippendale chair
, burying his face in his hand. "Isn't there a single maiden in all the land suitable to become my princess? I grow weary of all these air-headed debutantes." Just then, a servant girl walked by with an armful of yellow and black flowers from the garden, which perfectly matched the color of the prince's perch. He straightened himself upon the plush cushions and motioned for a nearby servant to draw near. "Who is she?", he asked, wide-eyed.