"You t'ief!" Rose shot back, turning around to face Martha with her flute in hand. "Is this yers?" she asked, anger blazing in her eyes.
Martha stopped in her tracks immediately. "No, but I'm pretty sure you stole it, it doesn't belong to you, she scoffed. "You had no right to go through my things."
"I could say the same t'ing about ye. Ye stole from me. After accusin' me, ye are the thief."
"It's you, not me. And I wonder what people are going to say when they come into the room and see you with the evidence in your—"
"Where is it?" Rose didn't care about anything else that would come out of Martha's mouth.
At first, she had thought Martha was simply jealous of the crown prince's attention toward her, which she thought was silly. There was nothing to be jealous about—she would trade places in an instant. However, now she was pretty certain Martha was cruel and enjoyed being mean to her.
