Though Applejack faced away from their impromptu hiding-place beside the road, Rarity could feel her eyes roll. “Come on, sugarcube. You ain’t never been outside somewhere, and…?”

Rarity squirmed. “I’m more of an indoor enthusiast, darling.”

“Well, the closest ‘indoors’ is a half-day back that way. This’ll have to do.”

“But… well, it’s… tantamount to littering, isn’t it?”

Applejack chuckled. “Oh sugarcube… you ain’t the first pony doin’ this, and you won’t be the last.”

“...You won’t think… less of me?”

“Never. Honest.”

With a sigh of resignation, Rarity slowly lowered her haunches into the prickly grass. She arched her back. Sweat beaded at her brow.

Soon she felt the smooth sensation of her heavy, cosmetics-laden saddlebag sliding off and plopping down behind her.

“Ya done?”

“Indeed,” Rarity said, tousling her mane. “Now, I don’t suppose they have a little fillies’ room somewhere around?”