Fiona rolled her eyes. "Not violet, Miranda. Everyone knows they are for blond hair. The color practically disappears against brown. You certainly can't wear one."

Miranda handed the ribbon back to her. "What color suits brown hair? Green? My mama has brown hair, and I've seen her wear green ribbons."

"Green would be acceptable, I suppose. But it's better in blond hair. Everything's better in blond hair."

Miranda felt a spark of indignation rising within her. "Well, I don't know what you're going to do then, Fiona, because your hair is as brown as mine."

Fiona drew back in a huff. "It is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

Miranda leaned forward, her eyes narrowing menacingly. "You had better take a look in the mirror when you go home, Fiona, because your hair is not blond."

Fiona put the violet ribbon back in its case and snapped the lid shut. "Well, it used to be blond, whereas yours never was. And besides that, my hair is light brown, which everyone knows is better than dark brown. Like yours."

"There's nothing wrong with dark brown hair!" Miranda protested. But she already knew that most of England didn't agree with her.

"And," Fiona added viciously, "you've got big lips!"

Miranda's hand flew to her mouth. She knew that she was not beautiful; she knew she wasn't even considered pretty. But she'd never noticed anything wrong with her lips before. She looked up at the smirking girl. "You have freckles!" she burst out.

Fiona drew back as if slapped. "Freckles fade. Mine shall be gone before I turn eighteen. My mother puts lemon juice on them every night." She sniffed disdainfully. "But there's no remedy for you, Miranda. You're ugly."

"She is not!"

Both girls turned to see Olivia, who had returned from the washroom.