"What can she be doing?" Esme(e) flung the
words with her gaze fiercely, lovingly over
her shoulder to Cleo laughing
and pirouetting with pointed toes and arched feet Cleo
danced and ran in wet muslin her skirts unmuddied
and unstained. In her hands she wreathed the
trains of recent flowers through the blissful
planted her feet. Her fist was near the rapier's
ran in from the grass. She skimmed the steps
and with a final flutter of laughter curtsied
low and long before the women.
lifted a brow.