This was an unnatural condition for a princess, of course, and it did not reflect well on her parents. On the other hand, it had nothing to do with either her birth or her upbringing. In fact, she had started out smelling just fine. When she was born, she had smelled as a rosebud does when it is just beginning to open on a misty morning in early June. When she was a little girl, she had smelled of mischief and mud pies (it was a small kingdom, and she had an understanding nurse), as well as cinnamon, apples, and sunny afternoons. And when she was just becoming a young lady, she smelled of clear mountain streams a moment before the rain comes, of lilacs, and of a small red blossom called dear-to-my-heart that grew on the castle grounds and nowhere else. So, all in all, she smelled just as a princess should, and her parents were pretty well satisfied. More satisfied than the princess herself, certainly. Violet found her own smell boring, and often declared that there must be many far more interesting scents in the world, a statement that always gave her mother a bad case of the quivering vapors.
