The girl in the chair did not allow her expression to change, but there was perhaps more of duty than enjoyment in the way she grimly picked up her spoon. The princess walked to the other side of the table. Is that really what I look like? Is that really what I SOUND like? The voice didn't sound like her voice, but the girl sitting there was her mirror image, down to the nightdress both were wearing - one rather dusty now, to be sure, and the other covered by the breakfast robe, but still the same nightdress.
'Etta, stop this at once! That's an impostor - I'm the princess. And she's eating MY breakfast.'
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