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    Summary

    Galinda shook a hand at her, dismissing the protestations. “Surely, as your social capital grows, you too will be asked on many a whirlwind, romantical picnic! It might not be with someone as handsome as Fiyero, of course, but.” She sat up to give Elphaba a smile and then tossed her head to make her hair cascade around her in a soft flounce. “I can only imagine that you too will have your pick among… hmm, a whole dozen of suitors.”

    “And… not only is this desirable, according to you, but watching you and Fiyero eat various cakes or finger sandwiches or fruits is somehow supposed to help me with all these suitors?”

    “Exactly!”

    “Hmm.”

    Galinda clasped her hands under the chin, sitting up straight on her bed, every line of her body held with breathless anticipation. She took in a breath and held it, biting at her bottom lip.

    Elphaba adjusted her glasses. “Still not interested.”

    And Galinda deflated like a balloon.

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