"Tilly's Roadside Dine"
Cassy watched the two men walk into the diner and grab a table. One was grumbling about something and calling the taller one a bitch. She raised an eyebrow, just her luck. They were gay. Great, there went her tip, no use in flirting . Plastering on a fake smile, she brought two menus over. "Can I get you anything to drink?" The shorter one looked up at her, those green eyes nearly brought her to her knees. "Coffee, black." The taller one was nicer. "Just water, please, thanks." As she walked away she heard the taller one, "Dean, could you be a little nicer?" "Sam, shut it." "I'd give that relationship two month." Cassy thought to herself as she went to get their drink order.

"The Do Drop In"
Mark approached the table, order pad and pen in hand. Three men occupied a booth in the back. The one in the trench coat seemed a little off somehow. It was 95 degrees in the shade. Why was he wearing the coat. Drug dealer, maybe? He was looking quizzically at the taller man who had been speaking. He'd stopped as Mark stood in front of them. Trench coat looked at both men before asking, "I don't understand. Debbie does Dallas is the name of the move. But, what does Debbie do in Dallas?" Both men stared wide eyed at him. "I'll just give you a few more minutes to look over the menu." He said before practically running into the kitchen.

"Ramblin' Rose"
The tall man sat alone at the table for two. Sherri eyed him and undid one of the buttons on her uniform. Sauntering over, she held the menu just out of reach. "Can I get you anything?" He turned his head to her, a look of confusion on his face. "Huh?" Another man, wearing a trench coat and dressed like an account joined him. "Sam, she asked you a question." Sam looked between the two of them, then shrugged. The shorter man, with sparkling blue eyes gave her a small smile. "He's not himself, today." Sherri smiled, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "I'll give you a few minutes to help him figure out what he wants. It's so nice of you to help him. He doesn't get out much, does he?" She walked over to the counter, joining another waitress. "What's with them?" Sherri gave a sympathetic smile. "The tall one, he's challenged, poor guy." She grabbed a place mate and crayons, bringing them over to Sam. "Here, sweetie, thought you might like to color. You just take all the time you need."

"Sunny Side Up"
The man in the trench coat was looking around, fidgeting in his seat. Donna walked over to him. "Would you like to place your order, or are you waiting for someone?" He looked lost. "I'll have the pie." She smiled, "Coming right up." She returned with the pie in hand. "Anything else?" He shook his head and began to devour the pie. Once finished he pushed the plate away. Donna was about to clear his table when another man entered and joined him. She hurried over. "Hi, would you like a menu?" The man looked at her, "No, just pie." Her eyes went wide. "I'm so sorry, your friend just had the last piece." The man's green eyes narrowed as he looked at his friend. "Cas?" "Dean, it's just pie. I'm sure there's some . . ." Donna left the table and called the line cook out front. "I think there's going to be a fight. The one in the coat ate the last of the pie and his boyfriend's pissed."

You're welcome. I'm glad you liked it.

He notices she has a good figure, beneath the rags she is wearing. He has never been one to take an interest in the maids, like some in his court, but he is not blind, although he has seen no serving woman dressed like this before.

Unaware of her husband's reaction, the Prince’s mother notices how her son looks at this girl he is presenting to them as his future bride and the kingdom’s future Queen. How his eyes shine. And the present Queen watched her boy when he saw his first mount, when she took him to the ocean for the first time, when his favourite dishes were prepared for birthday feasts, but she has seen no expression like this on his face before. It wasn't just the moonlight and the music at the ball, then.

The King notices the incongruity of the glass slippers on the lass’s feet compared with everything else she wears. All else is ash and darns, but the shoes sparkle. She has pretty ankles.

The Queen sees the faint flush on the girl's cheeks under their scrutiny and thinks, 'She is beautiful'. Her highness is fair about these matters. She acknowledged the beauty of the mysterious lady whom her son partnered throuhout the ball too. But it is hard to reconcile the two beauties as one and the same.

The Prince’s father’s gaze travels up and sees his son's bare hands wrapped around this girl's. Those hands were those of a child not so very long ago, looking small around the hilt of wooden training swords, but now they are strong, a man’s.

The Queen looks down and thinks those rags should be burned and the girl must be washed, probably the glass slippers too. But she suspects that the latter will be part of the girl’s bridal attire whatever they say.

The Queen turns to look at her husband. He raises an eyebrow. She nods. The Queen turns her gaze back upon this girl, who is neither crushed nor cowed, still holding steadily to her Prince's hand, and smiles at her. At them.

You're welcome! Glad you liked it.

Thank you!