A/N: Thanks again to everyone who's taking the time to review, favourite/alert. Means a lot! I hope I don't disappoint! :D
"What do you think?"
Eliza stared, transfixed, at her reflection in the curved, slightly tarnished mirror of her mother's. The red ribbon rested proudly throned in her hair, like a crown of satin. "It's so pretty, Mommy!"
"Not as pretty as you," her mother replied, snuggling her close. She smelled of evergreens and soap, of the sky. Eliza touched a strand of spun-gold hair longingly.
"I'm not as pretty as you, Mommy."
"Oh, my baby," sighed the woman. "You are so much more beautiful, angel. Always remember that."
That was the long answer. The short one? "My mommy made it."
The ribbon, she means. Not sure how clear that is. :)