Kitty tossed the last dress in her closet onto the floor, still wearing only her nightgown and with several lacy ribbons tangled in her hair as she wailed in dismay, "I have nothing to wear!" Jean, looking gorgeous as always in lavender moiré, turned from the full-length mirror and her task of securing a carnation to her sash to calmly suggest, "What do you think of the pink dress?" Kitty's face scrunched up as though she'd just bitten into a lemon.
"It's dirty," she groaned, flopping facedown onto the bed as though to demonstrate how hopeless her cause was.
"Well then, how about the gray watered silk dress?" Jean suggested mildly, now finished with her task and smoothing away some loose tendrils of brilliant red hair behind her ears. Kitty frowned.
"It makes me look at least ten years older," she grumbled. "And I most certainly have no intentions of looking like some old maid in front of that romantic Cajun." Jean tilted back her slender neck and laughed, reproving with mild amusement, "Kitty, you should know better than to assume that just because his ancestors were French he'll be a romantic person." Seeing the look on her baby sister's face and knowing that said sister was about to object, Jean quickly brought up her hand and remarked, "But, if you're going to insist, what do you think of wearing the blue dress?" Kitty pouted.
"I already wore that just last week," she pointed out. Jean shrugged helplessly.
"Fine then. How about the yellow one?"
"But that's an afternoon dress, not a morning one."
"All right, all right. Here, what do you think of the jade-green one with the hoop skirt and all the ribbons?"
"That," Rogue cut in, "would be mah dress." Kitty blushed, murmuring absently, "Then you wear it, Rogue, you'd look so pretty in it--it really brings out your eyes, and besides, green was never my color, anyway."

Rogue shrugged and began to leave, figuring that any extra primping wasn't about to make her look any prettier or more charming than she could possibly look without turning into Jean, when at that moment Kitty happened to catch a glimpse of her more petulant sister's appearance and gasped, squeaking out, "Why, Rogue--you've dressed so carelessly without Miss Ororo's assistance!" Rogue's eyes instinctively sought out the nearest mirror, and she realized that her younger sister was right, she had put very little effort into her appearance. Her dress was of a dull green velvet, certainly not tacky but nevertheless not at the height of that year's fashion, either, and her bonnet hadn't been tied carefully enough to prevent a few auburn-colored locks of hair from escaping. As for perfumes and colognes, Rogue hadn't bothered to carry even the simplest rose-scented sachet.
"I mean, your corset's a mess--it makes your waist size look double your twenty inches!" Kitty was fretting as, her own dress dilemma forgotten, quickly turned to Jean for reinforcement. Jean shrugged helplessly, her glorious scarlet hair giving off faint scents of lavender as she tilted her head before finally speaking, "Kitty's got a point, Rogue, and you know how impolite it would be to greet one of Papa's guests dressed so untidily." Rogue scowled, dangerously on the verge of snapping and telling her older sister exactly what she thought of her perfectly coifed hair and her always fashionable silk dresses and her demure lavender-and-lilac-scented perfumes, before common sense inched its way back into her head and she forced herself to swallow her angry words and consent.
"All right, fine," Rogue grumbled crossly. "If it will ease your conscience that Ah look and act like the ideal lady, then Ah'll change mah dress." Kitty's face lit up, and that famous happy smile which had charmed so many suitors shone dazzlingly as she squealed, "Great, Jean will help you choose a new dress and sachet, and I'll retie the stays of your corset, because God knows that you can go down at least two more inches at the waist!" Rogue's eyes widened, and she began to protest indignantly, "Now hold on a minute, what do you mean two more inches, do you want to cut me in half or what...?!" Kitty, happily turning a deaf ear to all protests, was already helping her out of her prim green dress so that she could rework the stays on her corset, having heard none of Rogue's heated protests.
"All right, Sis, hold on to something," the pretty brunette warned cheerfully, positioning herself behind Rogue and getting ready to start tightening away.

Rogue's eyes widened in alarm.
"Now wait just a minute," she started to protest, "Ah've had enough of corsets cutting into mah ribs, and Ah'm not about to--ow!"
"I told you to hold on to something so that it wouldn't hurt as much," Kitty reminded her in a carefree voice, as Rogue scowled and bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out again.
"Kitty," she warned in a deceptively low, calm voice, as her sister steadily began tightening the corset down to a twenty-inch waistline, "if you tug and pull on mah stays any longer, Ah'm going to faint!"
"Oh, nonsense," Kitty breezed lightly. "I know you, Rogue--never fainted once in your life, and would rather die first than start doing so! Now come on, I think I can pull this corset down to nineteen inches!" Rogue's eyes widened at the prospect of the corset becoming any more painfully tight than it already was.
"Kitty," she gasped, speaking each word slowly, deliberately, since the air was beginning to get cut off from her lungs by her tightening corset, "Ah'm serious this time, Ah really will faint if you go below twenty inches!" Kitty ignored what she said, and after fumbling around with the lacy stays, finally leaned back to admire her masterpiece and announce grandly, "There! Nineteen-and-a-half inches! Aren't you thankful that I've gotten you down to nineteen-and-a-half inches after that atrocious twenty-two-inch waistline you had just a while ago?" Rogue was wondering to herself whether she should paint her face to bring back some color to her already magnolia-white cheeks; she was sure that the corset had turned her face blue from lack of air getting to her lungs.
"Very thankful," she mumbled dryly, somehow managing to sound both sarcastic and out of breath at the same time.

Jean, meanwhile, had been searching through the closets for appropriate dresses while Kitty was working on Rogue's corset, and now she turned around, carrying a frothy rose-colored taffeta dress that perfectly suited her youngest sister's delicately pretty features, and a dramatic green organdie which would bring out the green in Rogue's eyes and make them shine like emeralds.
"Oh, that is so pretty..." Kitty's voice trailed off, and she happily danced over to her oldest sister and gave her a hug, before rushing off in a swirl of rosy skirts and jasmine-scented sachet and starting to get dressed.
"Rogue?" Jean turned questioning blue-green eyes on the sister who wasn't looking quite as thrilled by the dresses as Kitty, asking, "Aren't you going to get dressed as well?" Rogue winced, clutching at her waist and gritting her teeth as she tried to sit down on her bed.
"After a while," was all she could manage, still adjusting to breathing in her corset. "You and Kitty can go down first and do whatever you like with the Creole--"
"Cajun," Kitty corrected her huffily from the full-length mirror, slipping on some pearl earrings as she did so.
"Fine, Cajun," Rogue bit out testily. "Ah'll stay behind and adjust to mah new nineteen-and-a-half-inch waistline." A concerned expression washed over Jean's gentle features, and she inquired quietly, "Rogue, are you sure you're okay? I mean, I'm certain we still have time to rework the stays on your corset and loosen them a bit if they're that uncomfortable--"
"Oh, nonsense," Kitty cut her off breezily, finishing tying her bonnet and now admiring her reflection in the mirror. "Rogue is perfectly slim, she can handle it."
"Yeah, Ah can handle it," Rogue spoke up, not exactly wanting to be considered as the fat one in front of her perfectly gorgeous older sister. The mild frown failed to disappear from Jean's eyes, as she hesitated and asked, "Well, are you sure that...?"
"Of course she's sure, she's already said so," Kitty cut in, done swishing her skirts around and ready to go downstairs and meet her gallant Cajun. "Now come on, Jean, let's go already, he should be here by now--and you know how rude it would be if Papa and Miss Ororo are trying to introduce him to the young ladies of the plantation and nobody shows up!" At the possibility of showing any degree of inhospitality to a guest, Jean finally relented and began heading for the door, Kitty eagerly behind her.
"Well, Rogue, as soon as you're feeling better, get dressed and come join us downstairs," the statuesque redhead called out over her shoulder, and she and Kitty left in a blur of swishing skirts and ribbons.


Wanda Maximoff irritably rode around the acres of land of her father's plantation, distractedly commanding her strawberry mare Scarlet to either speed up or slow down as she searched for her brother.
"Sounds like a challenge," were the last words he'd uttered, tossing his trademark arrogant smirk back at his twin sister before speeding off on his white stallion Quicksilver. Wanda scowled as she remembered, silently cursing in a rather unladylike manner while continuing to search through the acres of rolling hills and forests. She should have known better than to propose a race to her brother; now the arrogant scoundrel had taken off and completely left her, leaving Wanda to aimlessly wander around their vast plantation in an effort to find him before dinnertime.
"Pietro, you impudent little skunk," she hissed angrily under her breath, when her ears suddenly caught the sound of hooves trotting steadily against dirt, and the raven-haired vixen immediately snapped up in search of her brother. "Pietro?"

A boy with longish blonde hair and a dark tan came sheepishly into view, riding on a chestnut stallion and wearing a friendly smile on his face.
"Afraid not, Miss Wanda," Alex Summers called out, taking off his hat and sounding as cheerful as ever as he trotted up to the now viciously scowling girl. "But if it's your brother you're looking for, then you might want to pay a visit to Mr. Xavier's plantation." Wanda's head snapped up when she realized that her dear twin brother wasn't even at their own plantation anymore.
"What?" she hissed in a very unladylike manner. "He's where?" Alex shrugged.
"I guess he went there to call on Miss Jean," he pointed out, hoping to placate some of Wanda's anger. "Are you going to go there as well?" Wanda's eyes narrowed grimly.
"Yes," she gritted through clenched teeth, spelling out Pietro's inescapable doom with that one single word.
"Oh, well, bye then," Alex stammered, as Wanda pushed past him and made a beeline for the nearest shortcut to the Xavier plantation. "Say, uh, Miss Wanda, did I ever tell you how pretty you are...?" Wanda was already several yards away by then, having failed to hear or maybe just pretending to not have heard a word of his blushingly squeaked out praise. Alex shrugged, and replaced his hat back atop his blonde head.
"Eh, guess not," he muttered to himself, then clucked at his own horse to trot away as well.


Rogue took a few gingerly steps around the room, biting down on her lip to prevent from wincing as the stays of her corset cut deeper into her waist. After several more minutes, during which she finally convinced herself that she could now walk around if not in the graceful, lilting steps of a Southern lady then at least in a normal way and not like some newborn colt, she began to dress, letting the rich green organdie material descend over her corset and petticoat and stepping into a pair of darker green velvet slippers. As Rogue began walking down the stairway to join her sisters, she could already hear Kitty's silvery laughter as the perky brunette chatted with the Cajun in French.
"I must apologize for my daughter Rogue," Xavier's voice cut in just then. "I don't know what's the matter with her. She should be here by now."
"That's no problem, Mr. Xavier." The youthful masculine voice that responded was tinged with a mixture of a French and Southern accent, and Rogue silently wondered whether this was the way all Cajuns spoke as she finally managed to totter and stumble her way down the stairs in as ladylike fashion as she could muster.

"Papa, Ah'm sorry about how late Ah am," she began to apologize automatically as her father's distinguished figure came into view. "Ah was, um..." Adjusting herself to her corset wasn't exactly an appropriate excuse to be given in the presence of men, and Rogue couldn't help but color slightly at the thought of even uttering such words. Fortunately, Jean came to her rescue, as she spoke in her usual calm voice, "But the important thing is that we're all here, right Papa?" And she turned anxious viridian eyes on her father, as if silently pleading him not to reprove Rogue in front of company for her tardiness. An awkward pause fell on the group as Xavier considered her words, before glancing up and offering a half-smile as he agreed, "You're right, Jean." Turning to the Cajun, he said, "Mr. LeBeau, allow me to introduce my middle daughter, Rogue." Amused black eyes, tinted with shades of red, glanced over leisurely at the girl in the green dress, who was now fiddling around uncomfortably with the lacy ribbons on her skirts and doing everything to avoid direct eye contact. Hearing confident footsteps begin to approach, Rogue realized that the Cajun--Mr. LeBeau, her father had called him--was heading her way and finally raised her head, catching her first glimpse of the ruggedly handsome young man standing before her.
"Ah, bonjour, ma chérie," he drawled, taking one of her gloved hands and placing a brief kiss on it.
"Oh..." Two thoughts ran through Rogue's head. One was that Jean was wrong for a change, and Cajuns really were handsome and gallant and romantic. The second, as she silently swore and kicked herself, was a lamentation for not having paid any attention to her French lessons at the girls' academy she'd been subjected to for the past ten years.