Lily loved the festival better than her own birthday. In the month leading up to it her life was a frenetic whirl of practicing on her stilts and preparing the long flowing costumes. There were six of them in total and they would weave through the crowds, nobody taller than their chests. Children would reach up to hold their hands and their smiles shone through their elaborate face paints. They were butterflies, frogs, nymphs and woodland sprites; for this was the festival to welcome in the spring. The music floated on the warm breeze like the spring blossom petals; raining down from the cherry trees.
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