She didn't seem to be afraid of anything on earth or in Heaven.

Every one thought she was like her father and didn't believe there was any God; so when she came among us at church or any public gathering, as she sometimes did, people were in no hurry to be friendly, while she looked straight ahead and never spoke until she was spoken to, and then she was precise and cold, I tell you.
Men took off their hats, got out of the road when she came pounding along, and stared after her like "be-addled mummies," my mother said.
But that was all she, or any one else, could say.

The young fellows were wild about her, and if they tried to sidle up to her in the hope that they might lead her horse or get to hold her foot when she mounted, they always saw when they reached her, that she wasn't there.
But she was here! I had seen her only a few times, but this was the Pryor girl, just as sure as I would have known if it had been Sally.
What dazed me was that she answered in every particular the description Laddie had given me of the Queen's daughter.

And worst of all, from the day she first came among us, moving so proud and cold, blabbing old Hannah Dover said she carried herself like a Princess--as if Hannah Dover knew HOW a Princess carried herself!--every living soul, my father even, had called her the Princess.

At first it was because she was like they thought a Princess would be, but later they did it in meanness, to make fun.