A tale of two sisters
There once were two sisters. The first, older and wiser and prettier, found herself under the shadow of the second, who was infinitely more worldly and famous. No matter how hard the first sister (let’s call her Quebec) tried, everyone continued to remark on how the second sister (let’s call her Montreal) was superior in all that mattered.
It came to pass, as they say in fairy tales, that the birthday of the older sister was imminent. Not just any birthday, but a significant one; the quadricentennial. She put on her best clothes, draped banners around the house and even requested that visitors come to celebrate the whole year, because a good birthday party should last for more than one short evening.
Somehow, the announcement of the birthday party spread to faraway cousins across the ocean in another country (let’s call it France) and the story of the party was published in an important magazine known as Paris Match (sort of a People magazine for those who eat snails). The older sister proudly announced that the magazine would be read all over the world, and local newspapers the local newspaper (the other one is on lockout) carried the headline about the important story even before anyone had seen the magazine.
Oh my! The magazine did carry the story, but the focus was completely on the younger sister, Montreal. Somehow the syntactic difference between de Québec and du Québec had been lost in translation (from French to French, but I should never go there). The party balloon deflated, not with a bang but with a flatulent buzz, as the older sister, once again, found that the younger sister had managed to catch the eyes of all.
Fairy tales often come with a moral.
