Isabeau thought herself very plain looking; with reddish blonde hair, brown eyes, and a speckling of freckles across her cheeks and nose reminiscent of a skipped rock on a pond. Her eyes were slightly too far apart, a rather round face, and her fingers were too short to properly play the piano like her mother wanted her to. Everyone said they looked alike. Everyone said that she was the spitting image of her mother, the way her lips always made it look as though she was smiling. Isabeau wasn't sure about that. Her nanny always said she just looked mischievous, and that sounded much more likely.