The small one

You look at the throng of girls, clad in relatively conservative (by the standards of such a hot climate) huipils, for one that will catch your eye. You light upon a short, girlish one with a cute face. Like her companions she has tan skin and dark hair, the latter being long and straight with straight bangs across her forehead. Her assets may not be so large as some of her companions, but she has a flowering youthful beauty that you find very appealing. From her scowl you can tell she is upset with her situation. You stride over to her, having already made up your mind. Getting to a reasonable distance from her, you look her in her painted eyes and call out. "You, come with me" you say imperiously. You motion with your hand, hoping that she will understand your tone and gestures if not your words. She looks up at you, still scowling, and mouths something off at you. You don't know what she said, but judging by her tone and gestures it was probably a curse. Undeterred, you step forward and grab your chosen war bride by the arm. Her cursing gets louder, but other than dragging her heels a bit does not resist you pulling her away to your encampment. Such is life in Aztec Mexico.