mirror, mirror on the wall

From time to time, the gossips speculate as to which of my four sisters was most beautiful. They will go on at length, discussing hair, teeth, face and figure. Feet. Ears. They will even, Lord help us, rank the beauty of my sisters’ souls.

It is no secret that I come from a family of hotties. My mother, before going cuckoo with her cuckoo clocks, was also thought a striking young lady in her time. Alas, many births, her brother’s romantic follies, her husband’s infidelities, and her tendency to micromanage her children’s affairs at the expense of a good hair brushing, saw her looks   plummet, until Dear Mama quite resembled Whistler’s Mother in her latter years. Pity, that.

Her daughters, however, fared more favorably. Despite their impetuous natures and clandestine love foibles, my sisters, I’ve been assured, were easy on the eyes.

I submit the following for your scrutiny and pleasure. Tell me, which of these girls most strikes your fancy? Or, in the parlance of the day, Hot, or Not?

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