The face in the window

Bebe's only company was the face in her bedroom window. It was never there during the day, it only appeared at night. Wispy and faint and with pigtails like hers, it spoke to her, with a warm, strawberry smile. It told her tales of life on the high seas, made her laugh with jokes and entertained her with magic tricks. It sped up time, filling the lonely gaps in her solitary life whilst her mother cocooned her in the house.
"Protection from the wicked world," her mother said.
She was happy there, with all she knew, until one day her mother forgot to lock her bedroom door.
A gust of wind, that blew up from the floor below whistled down the corridor and clicked her bedroom door open.
Bebe was too curious to stay inside, yet apprehensive of what lay beyond her world.
She tiptoed to the door, not wanting to stir what lay on the other side and found herself in a long room with steps that led down. The room was lit with flickering lights on the wall and was as sparsely furnished as her plain room. There was only a table, a little way in front of her, and what looked like a window on the wall above it. But it was a strange window. It's frame was oval and rolled in gold.
And when she approached it the face in her window appeared before her.
"Emmy!" she said, delightedly at the smiling face staring back at her.
"You're looking at your reflection," snorted her mother, from the stairs.