Harriet's rural dialect is a sure sign of her provincial origin, but the childlike awe with which she approaches the routines of city life often gives her away even before she opens her mouth. Three years in Marunomia haven't made it any less enchanting to the country girl, for whom even the subway feels magical.

Absent the learned wariness of city folk, Harriet believed the school's preaching about "coexistence," eager to show her country hospitality to even predatory peers. Spoiled by safety, she shocked classmates in her first year by accepting their mocking invitations to pred parties — and then surprised them even more by emerging intact. Evidently her friendly conversation was more appealing than her caloric content; that after three years she's yet to tour the city's plumbing is testament to her rustic charm.

It's easy to underestimate a bunny. Harriet's simplicity is often mistaken for stupidity, and neither her accent nor the sexual stereotypes of her species do her credibility any favors. But she's got the grades to prove them wrong, and as she approaches graduation, she's become a darling of the administration: rural prey uplifted, a living manifestation of the school's values — the cover girl on every admissions packet. There's even rumors the Student Council are keeping an eye on her to ensure she makes it...