When Diana was twelve she dreamed of having a very best chum she could share everything with: one who listened when she complained disloyally about her mother, and walked with her when Ruby and Josie were linking arms and whispering on the path ahead.

She had barely known Anne ten minutes before that imagined friend had dissipated on the air like the poor and inadequate shade she was.

Diana's imagination could never have been good enough for her to dream of Anne Shirley.