The door opened. "Ready for Snow White," Macon announced. He held up something for her to see. She thought it looked like a drone’s fuselage, the single-rotor kind, but bigger. Except someone had bent it into an oval, to fit her head, with the forward bulge of the fuselage over the center of her forehead. It didn’t look like any crown she’d ever seen, but it was made of something that glittered, white as the snowman in a plastic Christmas globe.