Here's a prompt and responses from my website, zoundsfern . wordpress . com. Will be updated as the responses flow in!

Lilting, laughing sounds sprinkle forth from the ballroom, enticing your footsteps thither. You run the usual gauntlet of livery, maids, and arriving nobility and prance up the steps on the arm of your escort. "The Lady _" the voice announces. The guests already arrived turn and make their deference as you step into the warm throng of dancers. The voice behind you lifts again. "Sir Andrew and Lady Elizabeth Ffoulkes." Andrew got married? you wonder. Why didn't that make headlines? But as you turn, you see that the girl is far to young... probably fifteen or sixteen. That isn't to say that girls don't get married at sixteen, but she looks so immature- even though she stands almost the same height as Andrew. Andrew smiles and waves in your direction. Still curious, you wander over. "This is my sister, Elizabeth." He smiles. "I'm sure you two will make splendid friends."

Later, walking in the garden, Elizabeth and you get to talking about your personalities. "So you love adventure?" she queries. "What kind? Balls? Hunting? Riding?"

"Oh, " You respond. "Well, yes, I suppose. But what really catches my fancy is impossible for me. You have heard of the Scarlet Pimpernel?" She nods, looking down. "My impossible daydream would be to join that league and save aristocrats from that bloody hell. Impossible," you say, looking down at the curves in your dress, "but worth dreaming." Elizabeth gives you one long, sharp look from those penetrating hazel eyes of hers, looking into your soul, perhaps. Suddenly she draws back, into the shadows, catching you by the arm as she does so.

"You speak the truth?" she whispers. You feel strangely terrified, cowed by this fiery spirit who has leapt out of this girl's eyes and is gripping your wrist with a vise. She takes one more good look at you and then drops your wrist. "Pardon." She whispers. "I must know who is safe."

"You know who he is?" you whisper, excitedly.

"That is not within my realm to tell you. However, I have started a small group of girls, The Ring of the Fern, and we help him."

"Him?" you gasp, wonderingly. "Honest, the Scarlet Pimpernel? Him?"

"Him." she laughs. "Join, M'dear, it's splendid fun."

"Why, I'd love to! You're too kind..." but her laugh stops you again. Suddenly she grows serious, bending in closer.

"Thursday at Two. Garden tea party at my house. Code is 'Have you planted the Ferns I sent?' Be there." She walks off, not leaving you time to answer. Awfully arrogant of her. No, Smart.

How'd you join the Ring? Use this scenario or write your own!