A wide grin stretched across Penelope’s face. “Both! If I have the choice, I’d choose to be a fairy princess hot dog. Who could turn down the chance to be a royal hot dog with wings?” Phoebe nodded sagely, then looked up at him. “She gets it. Let’s keep her, Uncle Row.” He met Penelope’s gaze. “Then it’s decided. Penelope Fennimore, for the next sixty days, you’re mine.”
