Hope walked into a second hall, much like the first, long and narrow with chairs setup throughout. The girls in her group were all wearing gowns. She cringed when she noted five of her group had chosen red. If Beatrice was right, they would be leaving today. The numbers were quickly dwindling.
Hope sat in a chair and glanced up at the two girls looking at her in the mirror. The other girls followed suit and did the same.
"What would you like?" the girl standing to her left asked. "Curls? Braids? Bun?" She made a face when she said bun, as if the very thought of a bun was enough to send her into a fit.
"A low chignon, about here," Hope said, pointing to a place on the back of her head. "Curls would be good, a few loose strands."
"Ah, very good choice," the girl said. She pulled out a
