I got just a little bit stuck on The Lady of My Choosing and so took a break to begin on Sarah's Story. Hope it all meets your expectations, I am looking forward eagerly to writing this! Let me know what you think and, of course, I am still accepting suggestions, love all your thoughts!

Sarah had lived in the little village at the foot of the royal hill where the palace of Euphrania stood for as long as she could remember. As a child, she had often gazed out her window toward that beautiful palace and dreamed of what it must be like to be there, little realizing that her dream would soon come true.

She was a happy, exuberant little girl, just flying through life happily in a whirl of dreams and laughter. Life was sometimes hard, her father would come trudging home every night, tired and worn, but smiling. Her mother would have what little she could manage to find on the table, but she, too, would smile. Sarah learned early on that it was love and laughter which makes a home. But still she dreamed of the palace.

When Sarah was eight years old, she noticed one day that her father didn't seem nearly so tired. And her mother didn't sigh as she thinned the soup. That was the day her mother took her by the hand and led her up the road to the gates of the palace. They didn't go in the grand entrance, up those beautiful stairs, but the servant's entrance in the back. But that didn't matter to little Sarah, for the wonder and glory of that moment surpassed all her dreams. Although in her dreams she arrived in a golden carriage and attired in a lovely silk gown and in reality she was walking through the servant's courtyard and wearing her customary little brown linen dress, this was reality. And therefore, it was better than a dream. It was real.

Sarah's mother became one of the pastry cooks in the enormous palace kitchen. And, in time, she was known as the best cook the palace had ever employed. She was nearly at the head of the kitchen as she supervised and whirled from one little maid to the other, making certain that everything was always just so. Little Sarah scrubbed the copper pots and pans until she could see her own laughing eyes looking back at her. Her duties were few and she worked with a will, singing as she went. The kitchen was such a big, interesting place, all full of wonderful smells and delightful sounds, and so many places to run and hide in! And, as if that wasn't all enough, she occasionally caught glimpses of the great banquet hall through the heavy wooden doors of the kitchen, and the royal family sitting around the long table. Life was so exciting!

It was soon after she came to the palace that Sarah met a little boy, about her own age. She was thrilled for there were certainly not many children about the palace grounds. There was John, nearly five years older than her, but he was clearly more important than she. He was sometimes in the stables but often with the prince and she only watched him from afar. There was Millie, but she was melancholy and a little vain, not really very interesting to be with. So she decided that this new little boy must be her playmate.

She found him sweeping the hearth early one morning. He looked up at her, a smudge of cinders on his nose, and smiled shyly.

"Hello!" Sarah cried eagerly.

"Hi," he answered and ducked his head.

"What's your name?" she perched on the corner of the hearth.

"Will," he answered.

"Will?" she repeated. "Is that all? My name is Sarah Foster. Mama says that Sarah means princess! Surely you have a longer name than that!"

"Well…" he hesitated. "It's Willoughby."

"Willoughby? That's a funny name!" Sarah laughed merrily. The boy smiled faintly.

"Not really Willoughby," he added slowly. "It's actually…" he lowered his voice confidentially. "It's actually Hezekiah Willoughby. But nobody calls me that. I wouldn't let them." Sarah's eyes widened.

"You must be joking!" she cried. "That's dreadful! I wouldn't call you that anyway. Besides, I like the name Will. Even if it is really short."

The boy smiled wider and she reflected that he really had the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Blue like… the sky.

"We'll be good friends," she said, contentedly. "Won't we?"

"You're sitting in a pile of ashes," he answered, pointing to her rather soiled blue dress and Sarah jumped up in dismay. As she brushed frantically at her skirts, he laughed shyly and his blue eyes twinkled. "Yes," he added as she looked ruefully down at the mess she had made of herself. "I think we will be good friends."