"I'm the princess," she tells me, turning a page in her big book. She frowns as she says it, her smooth brow scrunching together. "You don't look happy about it," I say. I always wanted to be a princess. Why would it make her sad? She looks up now. She's crying. "Because I'm getting too old," she says, tears trickling down her cheeks, "Soon the queen won't love me anymore."