"Esther M. Friesner - Chicks 04 - The Chick Is In The Mail" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friesner Esther M)

"It wasn't my fault," Sergeant Gorse said. "It was really Corporal Nitley, and I knowhe got an invitation."
He looked around and spotted a familiar figure hurrying along the street.

"She'll take care of this," he said confidently. She was, after all, in his unit.
***

Mirabel Stonefist discovered that no one had time to make her a gown, or even repair the old one. She
tried the plastic wizard the Ladies' Aid & Armor Society had on retainer, but he was overbooked,
without even a spare six-hour reweaving or banish-stain spell.

She couldn't possibly mend it herself. She was even clumsier with needle and thread than with a pen.
That left only one possibility, her sister Monica. The Monica who was still angry with her for not rescuing
Cavernous Dire from a dragon. Hoping for the best, Mirabel knocked on her sister's door and explained
her problem.

"You have a lot of nerve," Monica said. "You didn't even invite us this year."

"I put your name on the list," Mirabel said. "I always do."

"I'm sure," Monica said, in the tone that meant she didn't believe it. "But when you need somethingтАФat
the last minute I notice, never mind my convenienceтАФhere you are. I'll fix it for you all right!" Monica
grabbed the dress, and ripped the bodice all the way to the waist. "There!" Then she slammed the door in
Mirabel's face.

Mirabel turned away from the door. That was it, then. She would just have to go in uniform, and be
laughed at. As she trudged down Sweet Street, someone hailed her.

"Why so gloomy?" Dorcas Doublejoints asked. Dorcas, an exotic dancer, had maintained her friendship
with the LA&AS ever since they'd solved the mystery of her missing belly.

Mirabel explained, and displayed the torn bodice.
"Oh, that's not a problem." Dorcas eyed her. "You won't fit my clothes, but we have lots of clothes in my
house. Come along with me."
***

Mirabel stood in Dorcas's suite, with a flutter of lovely girls around her, all offering their best gowns. She
noticed that they all called Dorcas "Miss Dorcas, dear" and drew her own conclusions. Somewhat to her
surprise, she found that the strumpets' best gowns were fine silk of the first quality.

Her fashion advisors settled on an apricot-shot silk with shimmering highlights. It hugged her body to the
hips, then flared into a wide rippling skirt. Three-puff sleeves ended in a drape of ivory lace. A small
scrap of the same lace peeked from the depths of the decolletage in front. Mirabel had always liked
low-cut gowns, but this oneтАФshe peered at herself in the mirror, wondering if she dared.

"Of course you do," Dorcas said, and the girls murmured agreement and admiration. "You have a
beautiful back, and quite sufficient cleavage. Enjoy it while you can." Mirabel grinned at her image,
thinking what her sister would say. No one had mentioned "corset," either.

The girls put up her hair, sprinkled it with something glittery, then painted her face. Ordinarily Mirabel