She had a secret.
In the morning after her chores she quickly ran upstairs to clean up. She put on a crisp white blouse, laced a new ribbon in her bodice, and then she counted the hundred strokes as she brushed her hair. Today, like every market day, she would meet him.
She had a secret. It wasn't in the egg basket, it wasn't tied up in her apron either, nor was it his initials that she embroidered on her undergarments. It was all that she could do not to laugh as she walked to the square and stood by the fountain. She had a secret and today she would tell him.
Do you know what it is?
photo: A framed vintage postcard of a young girl at the marketplace.
Tomorrow I'll announce the winner. Good Luck! Note: There isn't a bun in the oven...look at that tiny waist.....