“It feels like a fairy tale from one of those happily-ever-after books where the princess storms the castle, slays a goblin-dragon, and takes over the kingdom for herself. Except I am not golden-haired or fine-boned. I have no bones at all. I am a rag doll who married a skeleton king. A rag doll who woke from the impossible daydream and found herself in her own heroine story—a tale whose ending hasn’t yet been written; but instead, is only just beginning.”

The author firmly establishes the story as a fairy tale—in keeping with its being commissioned by Disney, which specializes in fairy tales. However, Sally is an atypical princess and acutely feels her unfitness for the role. From the reader’s perspective, the fact that Sally is unlike the stereotypical princess makes her a more complex, exciting, and worthwhile character. Sally describes herself as a ragdoll, having no bones, but she has married a skeleton—a person who is nothing but bones. They complement each other, but Sally sees it as one more way she does not fit.

“Jack grins at the Clown and exclaims, ‘Wonderful!’ But I feel wholly overwhelmed. Too many hands reach out for us, touching the fabric of my dress, as if I’m someone new and unfamiliar they’ve never seen before. As if I’m not the same person I was before I married Jack. Before yesterday. They push one another aside, trying to get closer—to see me better. And I hate the way it makes me feel. Examined, scrutinized. As though I am some nighttime creature they have caught in their net and are about to dissect.”

The people of Halloween Town have never had a queen before and don't know how Sally fits into their world any more than she does. They are exploring and testing to try to find out how she is going to impact them. Sally's inner doubts make this mutual testing all the more uncomfortable.

“But I never truly wanted to be queen. I was happy to remain a rag doll—imperfect, broken in places. Hair straight as a board and dry as bone. A girl unchanged. But that’s not true, either. I was never content in my life before Jack. Never satisfied to remain trapped in Doctor Finkelstein’s lab. Never liked the idea of being built, molded, sewn together by a mad scientist in a cold, damp lab, on a dark, rain-drenched night. I wanted something else, something more than the life I was given. But now I’m queen and it feels like there are pieces missing between my two lives—seams not properly folded together. Jagged and knotted. Parts of myself I don’t quite understand.”

The figurative language conveys Sally's sense of discomfort with her own being. She has never felt like she belongs to herself. Her sense of pieces missing between her two lives foreshadows the discovery that a part of her—her memories of everything before she was 12 years old—are missing.