"You already look pretty," Elia commented easily, no lie attached. Whatever Mona thought, the witch thought she was lovely – she knew dancers that would have paid good money (or more valuable things, really) for hair like Mona's, or eyes so bright, or lips so lush. "You couldn't not look pretty, sweetheart. It's your natural state. This is only a matter of deciding how you want to put your beauty to good use. Now, which dress did you decide on again?"
The witch gently brushed Mona's hand away, using her own nimble fingers to free her hair from the ponytail. All the better to run her long fingers through, fluffing gently.