The flowered hat drooped around her face as she preened in front of the full length mirror. “How do I look, Agatha?” she asked.
Her friend declined to comment, though Molly thought she detected a look of disapproval. Agatha’s dress of white lace seemed the height of fashion, and it wouldn’t do to underdress for the party.
The girl returned to the old wooden trunk and rumaged through its contents. After flinging a bright red boa around her shoulders, she retrieved her neon orange sunglasses from the battered top of an old table. Her Barbie high heels clopped against the attic floor as she wobbled back to the mirror. Over the rims of her darkened lenses, she appraised her appearance once more. “Yup,” she told the doll. “I look fancy.”