In Over Her Head by Elsie Russell - Parnasse.com

damask jackets with gold brocade, and each wore a white Mozart wig.
One of these characters came up to them with a tray of
champagne and Sandro took one and whispered something into the
guy's wig. Next time she turned around the same guy had a glass of
kiddie champagne for her.
The old princess was corseted to the floor in gray satin armor
and wore immaculately pompadoured lavender hair that bore the stamp
of Madame d'Oc with a few curls lacquered flat over the do in an
asymmetric embroidery. She busied herself with Blaise Boulot, who
kept a hungry eye on Sandro from across the room as he listened to the
princess. Sandro decided to pay his respects to their hostess later.
The floor was cleared and the music started up from the corner
chamber orchestra - all in blue knee pants and wigs, even the female
musicians. How embarrassing, Penny thought, as the musicians started
a waltz, to take such a job after years of training and end up in these
Halloween costumes.
Older couples were already skimming across the floor to Strauss
senior when Sandro took her into the arena and right into the sun
medallion in the center. The trick was stepping light with fluid knees
but a straight back, as if suspended from the top of your head by a
string, then focusing on a stable spot. But she knew that already, from
the balance beam.
They swooped and slid across the floor, her left arm on his
shoulder, his right around her waist, the other arms out, leading into the
dance. He smiled into the air as they floated around the floor. As the
other swirling couples watched them, they too were drawn into the
fairytale. Twirl, twirl dip. The room became a kaleidoscope of blue and
gold and black and pale shimmering gowns, diamonds and chandeliers.
The music stopped, and couples changed partners, but he took
her aside. "I knew you could do it," he said, barely out of breath.
He led her out of the room, to a small room with satin
armchairs and landscape paintings of cows and sheep on the curly
sculpted walls.
"I have something for you, it is not what you think, so do not
panic."
He took out a small velvet bag from his pocket, and from the
bag, a gold ring of two carved interlaced hands, finely wrought once
but now worn thin. "I could not find a forty karat osmium, mi dispiace,
but this is an ancient Roman friendship ring. I think we should, em, 'go
steady', first, you know, now that you are eighteen, em, what do you
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