Beatrice sat on her bed. The room was quiet. Then her little sister tiptoed in.
The little sister pointed the feather duster like a wand. Beatrice felt her arms lift up all by themselves. "At your service," her mouth whispered.
Beatrice marched to the trunk. She heaved the lid open. Feathers, sequins, and masks tumbled out.
She slipped on a huge velvet cape. The mirror caught the light and made her glow like a queen. Her little sister clapped and pointed down the hallway.
Beatrice paraded down the hall like a marching band. Arm stiff, one foot in front of the other.
Beatrice bumped into the coffee table with a loud thump. She blinked and tried to slow down, but her feet kept tapping.
Her feet carried her back to the trunk. She pulled on giant glittery boots and a feathered headdress that wobbled when she moved.
Her little sister spun in circles, laughing. Beatrice's mouth broke into a tiny smile.
Beatrice stood in front of the mirror in her full masquerade costume. Her little sister handed her a silver fan.
Beatrice tried to shake her head no, but her hand took the fan and waved it in a big dramatic circle. The headdress slipped sideways. Her little sister burst out laughing.
Beatrice laughed until her knees wobbled. Then she sat on the bed in her sparkly outfit, the mask pushed up on her head.
Her little sister climbed up beside her. Beatrice picked up a tiny mask and held it out. Her little sister reached for it with both hands. Beatrice laughed again, softer this time. The room felt warm and light.