Dearest Ariela,

  How are you and everybody? Has Johnathan returned from his visit yet?

   Well, things here have gotten off to an uncomfortable start. Last night was a perfectly awful party, and this afternoon I have been expected to entertain several young - or not so young- eligible gentlemen. For though I can hardly believe it, my aunt is forcing me to choose one of these men to marry. Marry! Isn't that absurd? I think I managed to get rid of one of them permanently today, though. 
First in line was a knight of some property whose name I cannot remember, but for this letter I will call him Sir Peacock. Such vanity I have never seen even in a woman. He came in, bowed, and asked me what I thought of his hat! We exchanged pleasantries a short time, he shifting in his seat all the while and constantly smoothing his shirtfront. Then I had a horrible, wonderful idea.
"Excuse me, but I believe my hair is slightly out of place," I said. "I'm terribly sorry to ask, but may I borrow your mirror for just a moment?"
"Of course, milady." And sure enough, he pulled a small hand mirror from his sleeve, obliging as can be. I looked at it briefly, pretended to fix up my hair, and handed it back to him.
"Thank you for coming, Sir. I am afraid, however, that it would not be of much use to you to come again. I suggest that you find yourself a lady who shares your taste in millinery. For in all honesty, I must tell you that I find your hat slightly ridiculous." 
He left rather quickly, an expression of outrage upon his beloved face. My aunt came in when he left and promptly demanded to know what had transpired to put Sir Peacock in such a mood. She was shocked at my straightforwardness. The expression on her face was worth it, I must admit.
   That was just a few minutes ago. I begged a headache and went upstairs to write this to you. I must soon go back to the other suitors, and dispose of them one by one. Wish me luck. 
I miss you! Write back soon, dear! 
                         

                                                Your loving friend and humble servant, 
                                                                                                                                       Annica

   P.S. 
There is one man, whom I met last night, who is not utterly hopeless. Baron Alton is charming, funny, and far better company than my other would-be lovers. While marriage is, of course, the farthest thing from my mind right now, at least he's bearable. And yes, before you ask, he is handsome.
                                         
A.