Rose wondered about her mother’s words, while the horses trotted down the road andthe sun went up the sky.“Mother hopes that a man hides somewhere in the kingdom,” Mary said.Rose nodded. “That must be the family tradition.”“You could call it a quest.”As the green fields rushed by their coach windows, Rose dreamt of the man in themedallion. He had to be a prince living in another land in space and time, where her dreams would take her one day.“We are survivors,” she said.“You are right,” Mary said. “We don’t need any men helping in the fields.”After a long trip through the countryside, they arrived at the town’s suburbs wherewomen gossiped in the streets and little girls played hopscotch on the pavement.The Piccadilly tower rose before them, its light shinning for miles around, as a crowdof women dressed in uniforms sang military songs.“It’s a beautiful day,” Mary said.“I hope everything is fine,” Rose said.“Don’t worry.”The coach stopped by the lake, where the swans gathered in the sun and themosquitoes made their lives impossible. Mary made sure her dress didn’t have anywrinkles, as she got off the vehicle.“It’s a dream,” Rose said.The sisters feared the monsters roaming the Piccadilly gardens, while moving acrossthe well-kept lawns full of flowers.THE QUEST3
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