I am officially jumping on the Cosette bandwagon, because she is one of my favorites in the whole fandom and I suddenly want to try my hand at an interpretation of her. So, I humbly submit to you this piece, dedicated to both BellaSpirita AND JenValjean24601 because they gave me the idea to write it.
A pile of hats lay scattered on Cosette's rug, far from their hatbox homes. There were woven hats, with wonderful silken ribbons, smaller bonnets made of beautifully patterned cloth, and the occasional felt hat with an overwhelming plume.
She twirled about in the mirror, clucking her tongue in dissatisfaction at one of the felt hats, currently perched gently atop her head. One of the overwhelming plumes leaned over, obstructing her view slightly. She blew upwards sharply, and the feather bobbed back for a moment. Before Cosette could even blink, though, it popped back down into her eyes again.
She blew a little more. Again, it popped up and, just as quickly, flittered down again.
She blew and blew at the feather, until she was out of breath and panting in a most unladylike way.
Still, the feather did not stay up for very long at all.
She fell back onto her bed, angrily, and looked through the doorway to make sure nobody was around. She did not want anyone to see her next action, which was most unladylike indeed.
When Cosette ascertained that nobody would see, she whipped the offending hat off her scalp and threw it up in the air. Her dainty leather boot connected with it as it floated down, and she gave it a kick in the direction of the other hats.
Cosette was, however, not very strong, and so the hat landed a foot or so away from her. She was obliged to pick it up with her hands and irritably toss it into the pile.
As it floated down, Cosette surveyed her hat collection. She had ten ridiculous hats, none of which looked pretty with her new blue traveling dress.
"Papa!" She yelled, her gaze still fixed on the hats. "Papa, come quickly!"
He did not come running right away, and so Cosette picked herself up and went to look for him.
She found him, almost seconds later, in the entry area of the house. His furrowed old hands wereholding a hatbox.
"Papa, is that for me?" she squealed, reaching for the box in his hands.
"Of course it is, angel," Valjean replied softly to her. "We're taking a little trip, don't you remember?"
Cosette sat down on a little bench in the entry and put the box on her lap. "Of course I remember, Papa," she chirped excitedly. "I've been trying on hats all morning, you know. I have a bunch of hideous ones, Papa; I'm just so very glad you've bought me a new one!"
She peered up at him for a moment. "May I open it?" she asked, unable to stop her fingers from drumming anxiously on the case.
"Of course, child," he said, patiently. A gleam of excitement was in his eyes- he did so want to please her. "I hope you like it, angel, we really haven't time to buy you another one."
"Even though Papa would very much like to," he added hastily.
Cosette had a way with packages, and within seconds she was pulling the hat from its tissue paper cocoon.
"Oh, Papa…" she said, trying to act pleased.
Inside was a felt hat with two overly large plumes.