Without further ado:

The costume was a thing of beauty, at least in the eyes of one particular small, bright-eyed child named Cathleen. She had begun to envision its creation nearly a lifetime ago, last year on the first of November.  Through the ensuing months, Cathleen had embellished the image in her mind’s eye to form a singular vision of the beautiful gown that her mother would make for her upon the old buzzing beast of a sewing machine.  With much sweat and blood from her mother–and a few tears upon the part of Cathleen–the skilled seamstress managed to produce a dress worthy of any little would-be princess.  This gauzy creation was mettled of a rainbow of fabrics in slippery textures.  The material was glossy and slick, being composed of the cheapest rayon and polyester blends available, which shimmered a little in the light.  Supported by a little crinoline of tulle, the skirts would be susceptible to be carried about upon the late October breezes. In shades of pink, purple, and blue, panels of cloth were draped somewhat becomingly about the slip of a girl to transform her into a princess. Paired petal-shaped bristol-board wings, spangled with glitter and laminated, were strapped to her with the aid of elasticized loops.  The crisscrossing of elastic cords cut a deep ravine into the many layers of fabric enwrapping the girl’s arms and back. A star-tipped wand with a tinsel comet’s tail and a plastic-jeweled crown completed the ensemble, creating the illusion of the fairy princess in entirety.

 
 This particular fairy princess wished to cast a spell of enchantment over all who saw her, so that they would know that she was the most beautiful fairy princess they had ever seen. With a wave or two of her streamer-trailed star-wand and a few invented words, the magic would be set . . . However, despite her strongest efforts, Cathleen could not coax the magic to work, and ended up spending most of the Halloween evening sitting on the grass of lawns with her arms crossed and a very sour expression. She seethed with rage.  Why was it that people could not see that she was a fairy princess? She was not just a mere fairy or a simple princess, as nearly everybody she met seemed inclined to think, and they did not find her particularly beautiful at all. They claimed she was “cute,” and this only inflamed Cathleen further. “Cute” was what you called puppies or kittens. “Cute” was what you called little animals and little children. This was Halloween, and she was five years old, practically a grown up! Cathleen was an elegant, sleek, and enchanting fairy princess! She was beautiful!

 
 However, she did not stop to consider the fact that she wore her bright red rubber boots upon her feet to protect her royal toes from surprise puddle attacks, or her snowsuit beneath the costume to fend the cold north wind of the coming Canadian winter. In fact, Cathleen bore far greater resemblance to a roly-poly bundle of swaddling cloth than to one of the ethereal fey folk. Cathleen had also forgotten that she wore a vibrant pink toque beneath her princess’ tiara, to protect her royal majesty’s tender ears from frostbite. All of these things Cathleen did not consider that Halloween.  Yet even as she formed a peculiarly padded purplish-pink lump sitting slumped in the centers of several front yards, that evening she undoubtedly blossomed into the very magical, very mystical, and very first Fairy Princess of the frigid Canadian landscape.