It awed Nada to think of just how old Electra was, if her age were measured from the time of her birth. So she generally didn't think of it; she accepted Electra as she was now, which was just barely under eighteen, though she looked fifteen. In appearance she was a good match for Prince Dolph, who really was fifteen, going on sixteen. It was too bad that she lacked the qualities that would turn such a teenager on, such as a buxom torso and freckle-free face. Electra was a good girl, without doubt, but men of any age were more interested in appearances than in qualities. Maybe if Nada worked with Electra to make her more interesting—

Her thought was interrupted by the scene inside the gourd. They were in the middle of a village—no, a town—no, a city—of plants. Plants rustled along the streets and climbed up steps to buildings, while assorted animals and human folk stood decoratively in planters.

"Plant City," Electra said, letting go her hand, now that they were safely in the same scene. "What fun!"

Nada envied her that quality of delight in odd things. Nada would rather have been back at Castle Roogna reading one of the romance novels from the castle library. One of the ghosts had shown Zora Zombie that section of it, and Zora had told her, as they both liked such books. There, romance was always fresh and wonderful; the men were always handsome, strong, and older than the women. But Electra hardly cared about reading; she was always out and about, doing things, making new friends, and in general being a buzz of innocent activity. Part of it was because she wasn't a princess, so didn't have to uphold princessly standards. She could wear blue jeans and pigtails and play tag with the moat monster and ride Donkey Centaur at an indelicate gallop through the orchard and use slang expressions, and never get in trouble for it. She could flop down in the dirt and make mud pies. Nada had to pretend she wasn't interested in such juvenilia, but if she had ever had a secret place where no one would ever know what she did, she would have made mud pies. Most important of all, Electra didn't have to be constantly on guard against anyone seeing her panties; there was no risk, in blue jeans, and no one was interested anyway. She had such a carefree life, because of what she wasn't.