It is becoming, isn't it?
Tell me, what do you think of my looks ?" At this naive demand, made in a perfectly serious tone, Priscilla laughed again.

But Anne said, impulsively squeezing Philippa's hand, "We thought this morning that you were the prettiest girl we saw at Redmond." Philippa's crooked mouth flashed into a bewitching, crooked smile over very white little teeth.
"I thought that myself," was her next astounding statement, "but I wanted some one else's opinion to bolster mine up.

I can't decide even on my own appearance.

Just as soon as I've decided that I'm pretty I begin to feel miserably that I'm not.

Besides, have a horrible old great-aunt who is always saying to me, with a mournful sigh, 'You were such a pretty baby.