She looked toward her dresser, where her birthday crown lay beside a small brush and three hair clips.

She had made the crown herself out of purple paper, with a crooked paper jewel glued into the middle, and she picked it up now and set it carefully on her head.

Do I look like a birthday queen, she asked.

You look exactly like one, I said, and it was true, she did, with the taped shoe and the crooked jewel and the whole of her bright and certain that tomorrow was going to be wonderful.

Will Grandpa take my picture, she asked.