I see the very same things you do, GB, and I've pulled up the rest of the Cups court just to affirm my suspicions that the Queen is the only one of them who doesn't look like she's likely to miss the entire boat.
Dressed in that violet finery, with a face that could launch a thousand boats (to keep the metaphor) but her head dress just a shade darker than the wild blue yonder, she's more there than here. Dreamy and self-absorbed, accepting the roses but missing what's right in front of her while wishing for what's right in front of her. To me the fish in the cup is just phallic enough to take him out of the role of the "fish of imagination" and put him in the rank of ignored suitor. How such a simple figure can show such worshipful puzzlement, amazing!
This is the woman of my college days, not to be invited to beer busts, but to madrigal dinners and The Marriage of Figaro; back when sorority women in Big Ten universities were not allowed to wear slacks to classes - forget jeans and T-shirts, they didn't even own that sort of thing.
Two Arabians boarded in a stable for weekend morning rides. Very likely an affair with a married professor who was in no position to make permanent demands. An attraction to a promising but hippie-at-heart type in nearly the same artistic realm as her but who intends to actually make a living at what he's studying - a charming but too dangerous of a notion.
So this is the romantic bubble that sorely needs the dull cast of reality but is being avoided by escaping to that warm, thick fog. This Page needs a few Swords in her life, eh?
~B~