Storybooks have dressed me well, as one who breaks a wicked spell. With polished boots and noble air, I’m often found with maidens fair. Though not the ruler of the land, a crown may one day grace my hand.

A Canadian place famed for a rush of gold. An old ad asked what you would do for one. A trove of records, rich with things once told.

They can be used to make jewelry, to make your bath more pleasant or, apocryphally, to buy an island.

I guard my treasures deep in stone, A golden mask upon my throne. Though dead for centuries, I still reign, Beside the Nile's eternal plain.

She stands where fear would reign, a girl with fire in her name. Like Joan, she hears the call, like Malala, she stands tall. Like Greta, she will not bend, for tomorrow, she will defend. Not queen by crown or throne, but brave in flesh and bone.