“She's an ugly little thing. No child should look like that. Pale and sour, like a glass of milk that's turned."
"And so skinny!" the cook replied. "Never finishes her supper."
Crouched beside the girl, the boy turned to her and whispered, "Why don't you eat?"
"Because everything she cooks tastes like mud."
"Tastes fine to me."
"You'll eat anything."
They bent their ears back to the crack in the cupboard doors.
A moment later the boy whispered, "I don't think you're ugly."
"Shhhh!" the girl hissed. But hidden by the deep shadows of the cupboard, she smiled.”