Sara is a prisoner of the Bastille; she is Marie Antoinette in the shadow of the guillotine; she is anywhere but here. She tells herself that there is nothing so strong as rage held in, and so she gets through the drudgery of her days like a princess under a wicked curse, brave and gracious as she thinks a princess ought to be.

But sometimes - when Lavinia sticks out a dainty foot to trip her, when Miss Minchin gives her nothing but cold eyes and colder insults and no supper at all - she thinks of other sorts of princesses, the kind who tip poison into goblets and send their faithless lovers into the maws of tigers, with a hot swirl of joy and shame so fierce she almost shakes with unfulfilled retribution.