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"Father?" A young girl with black hair walked hand-in-hand with her father. Her hair was pulled back into a braid and she wore purple pants and a matching purple top.
"Yes, Jasmine?" The black-haired sultan replied to his seven-year-old daughter. He treasured her more than anything.
"May I ask you a question?" They were walking through palace gardens and every-so-often the little girl would stray to smell a flower.
"Ask me anything and you will get an honest answer," the father replied as he watched her as she picked a flower and put it in her hair.
She turned to looked up at him big eyes, "Where do babies come from?"