More than you ever will, I'd wager, Gervaise thought to himself. There were little princesses like this one at least twice a year—nevermind their older counterparts coming in for repairs and replacements. He had long since learned that verbalizing his feelings on their attitude did him little good, and so kept his comments to himself. Mostly.

"Perhaps this?" he suggested, handing her a suitably 'elegant'-looking wand, with a small pearl at it's base much like the pommel of a sword. "Nine and seven-eighths inches of willow. Bendy, with a billywig's stinger at it's core."