Chatterbox: Inkwell

I hate the story that I love. That sounds wrong, bu this is the uneditted first chapter:

One
day, quite a while ago, in the era of kings, queens, castles,
dragons, war, and noble deeds, a young girl strode to her lessons.
This girl happened to be the Princess of Glenenmoore, Lady of Skill,
etc., etc . She moaned and groaned all the time about these lessons,
but it proved no avail. She was still forced to have them.

The
princess, Sally, walked along long corridors to the lesson room where
she learned how to read, write, and use proper etiquette. In her
opinion, this was not an education to be proud of.

So,
she read. She read about science, survival, math, psychology,
physics, languages, novels, legends, and many other things. There was
always a book in her hand, for she dared not become like her sisters.
That would be a disaster in a disaster. You see, Sally was a genius
of sorts, not at all like her thick-headed sisters. Anne, Shirley,
and Rebekah were scared to even step outside for fear they might get
a splinter. While Sally spent her days disguised as a peasant roaming
the countryside and exploring, her sisters preferred tea with the
court women instead. If you saw Sally on an annual slow ride through
the village, you would think of her as a dainty, fragile, selfish
brat. But, at night it was a different story.

If
you unfortunately had to work late in the fields or forest, you would
see Sally galloping across the countryside in her self-made tunics
and pants. Some villagers thought she was a phantom, a phenomenon
multiple tales had been spun about.

“Well,
needlework is good for something.” She would say.

On
these nightly trips, she tended to ponder about the world outside of
her kingdom. Sally wanted to see the oceans, see mountains, and see
crystal caves. She wanted to know the earth was round. She wanted all
the animals of the jungle to be seen by her. She wanted to be free.
Free of lessons, royal protocol, and the life of a princess. She
wanted to leave. And someday she would. Yes, she would.

You can see why I hate it, can't you? I wrote that part when I was seven and I thought it was pretty good. Should I delete it?