Preview: Food Court-Martialed · 9:34am May 1st, 2019
Yes, I know, progress has been slow. Even slower than usual. I'll spare you the reasons and excuses, have the first chapter of the String Bean story. Working title of Food Court-Martialed is as good as any, I suppose.
I'm still not entirely happy with the dialogue between my two main protagonists, and I think I do need to add more descriptions to flesh it all out, but it's good enough for a preview. Also, they've gone through several versions of the conflict so far, it might be a case of over-editing there.
Let me know what you think, I am still filling stuff in for this story (again, sparing the excuses), some changes can be made depending on the audience preferences. Some. Not making this a clopfic or a romance.
Apple Bloom had been turning her head this way and that ever since she’d gotten off the train. She didn’t gasp much, though, until she saw her final destination: a giant convention hall, made up of four different buildings in a clover leaf shape.
The Four-Leaf Clover Building. She was finally going to see the inside of Vanhoover’s most iconic structure, at a perfect time of the year for it, and with the perfect companion joining her, too.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Grand Pear said.
“I’ll say. So this is the Vanhoover Food Court,” Apple Bloom said as she walked to the building, following the mess of ponies who all seemed to have the same plans.
“Yup,” Grand Pear replied. “Biggest annual gathering of farmers, juicers, bakers, you name it. Anypony who’s anypony in the food business comes here.”
Apple Bloom let out a little pout, approaching the entrance. “Not everypony: Granny Smith’s never been here. She never even mentioned it to us.”
“Oh, now, she has been here, rest assured.” The stallion chuckled. “She just stopped going after a while.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I was here, of course.” He sighed. “Every single year.”
“Grand Pear!” a male voice at the entrance booths called out. “Over here!”
“That’s our cue,” Grand Pear joked. “Follow me, now, and don’t mind if ponies act a little funny around here.”
“Funny, how?”
He looked away pensively, before smirking ever so slightly. “Mmm, I have a reputation in these circles, and so do the Apples. Ponies might gawk at ya a little. In a good way, I hope.”
Apple Bloom nodded, and the Earth pony stallion at the entrance greeted them both. “Glad you could make it, Grand Pear.”
She looked him over for a moment. Brown coat, darker brown mane, and some kind of reed growing by a puddle for a cutie mark, this guy had all the appearance of a strong draft horse like her brother, but without the thick hooves and limbs to support his frame. If anything, he reminded her more of the swimmers she’d seen in Granny Smith’s old photos.
The entrance pony rummaged through a box of badges and put one on the old stallion’s scarf. “There we go, sir, your personal badge. And one for your companion.”
Apple Bloom took the badge and fiddled with a little to get it stuck to her bow.
“I didn’t think you were taking on apprentices yet, Grand Pear,” the stallion said. “Certainly not someone so young.”
Grand Pear’s ears flicked, and a grin appeared on his face. “Oh, this isn’t an apprentice, Bulrush, this is my granddaughter. Apple Bloom, this is Bulrush, one of the organisers of this here event.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir.” Apple Bloom extended a hoof, which the stallion shook, carefully, looking her dead in the eyes.
His expression shifted, from confusion to surprise to what Apple Bloom presumed was recognition. “Well, I’ll be darned, now that you mention it. The family resemblance is striking, it’s like looking at an old picture. Dad’ll love to meet her.”
“I brought her along to see the sights,” Grand Pear said before Bulrush could add anything more. “Is there anything out of the ordinary this year? Anything to look out for?”
“Anything that’s not child-proof, you mean? Well, we’ve got some yaks this year, they’ve brought some of their farming equipment. I wouldn’t let a filly wander around that stand unsupervised. Not that I don’t trust you, little one, but yak steel is awful sharp, and they don’t seem to have the best sense of safety precautions, either, if you catch my drift.”
“And Poppy?” Grand Pear asked, with a hint of dread and a dash of annoyance in his voice.
Right at that moment, there came a cry that sent shivers down Apple Bloom’s spine, all the way to her tail tip.
“Grand Pear! So glad you could make it! I was getting worried there for a second, what with that terrible fright you gave us last time. How’s the heart?” A Unicorn mare approached them, one wearing a flat straw hat with a badge like Grand Pear’s and Apple Bloom’s.
Apple Bloom’s ears pricked. “Fright? Heart?”
“Nice to see you again, too, Poppy,” Grand Pear replied casually. He smirked and let an edge bleed into his voice. “How’s the family?”
Getting a closer look at the mare, Apple Bloom couldn’t help but notice this one had a bit of fuzz on her legs, her hocks to be specific. It almost looked like spurs. Other than that, she was a regular light blue mare with a poppy seed bun for a cutie mark, and a purplish red mane and tail done up in a Southern style, if cut shorter than usual for that region. Apple Bloom’s nose curled. Something in her gut told her this was a salespony first, not a craftspony or a farmer.
“Oh, you know, busy busy, as usual, so much ambition and so little time to chase it in. And who’s this?” Poppy took a closer at the look at the filly. Unlike Bulrush, Poppy looked like she stifled a grin when she recognised Apple Bloom. “Surely you didn’t… are you an Apple, by any chance?”
“Yes, Ma’am. My name’s Apple Bloom.”
“Goodness,” Poppy replied with a dramatic flair, waving her horn around so much she could have taken out someone’s eye. “And here you are with Grand Pear. I take it your side of the family has buried the hatchet, then?”
“This is my granddaughter, Poppyhock,” Grand Pear said, gritting his teeth. “Her name is Apple Bloom. You’ve heard of her, haven’t you? She made the papers when she got that boy Troublehooves back on his feet, she’s on speaking terms with Princess Twilight, and she was a flag-bearer for Ponyville at the last Equestria Games? That Apple Bloom? I’m sure even a mare as busy as you would have heard of her.”
“Ah, the brains of the family, of course. It’s always nice to meet a foal of some repute,” Poppyhock nodded in greeting. “Especially a filly with a good head on her shoulders.” She rolled her eyes. “Plenty enough of the other kind stomping around.”
“Umm, thanks?” Apple Bloom replied.
“So are you backing out of the judging, then?” Poppy asked. “The squash competition will start in fifteen minutes.”
“No, no, I was just catching up with Bulrush here,” Grand Pear said. “Apple Bloom’s a big girl, she can take care of herself for a while, right?”
“Yup!” Apple Bloom replied with a bright smile. “I’m just here to see the sights in an official-like capacity, I don’t need a chaperone.”
“Well, then, if I might make a suggestion: Cherry Jubilee brought her rodeo game along again. If you’d like to measure up against other Earth ponies, she has a whole set-up to check her recruits.” Poppy sighed. “Good thing, too: it’s so hard to find good help these days.”
“Why don’t you run along,” Grand Pear started. “I’ll take care of business with the contests, you can look around all you like, we’ll meet back up around noon. If anypony asks, just tell them you’re here with Grand Pear. That badge is for official business, so don’t be shy about acting a little...”
“Like I own the place?”
“Like you’re checking things out for real.” The stallion winked. “And while you’re at it, keep your eyes peeled for anything genuinely interesting. I’ll come around once I get my duties done, we can check out the really fancy stuff together.”
“Got it.” Apple Bloom nodded.
Apple Bloom made her way through the aisles of fruit stands. At the entrance, it was standard fair: snacks, drinks, all the things one would want for a day-trip, either to eat for lunch or to eat on the way home.
A little further down, though, she got her first surprise: a stand managed by an older mare, a light purple one who was a dead ringer for Twilight Sparkle’s grandmother, except for the poofy curled mane.
“Canterlot quartz quinces?” Apple Bloom asked, pointing at the odd-looking produce. “What are these?”
“It’s a very rare and delicate type of quince, originally from the Crystal Empire,” the mare replied. “The orchard in Canterlot was the only thing left of the whole Empire after it disappeared. These things have been kept for a thousand years, and they’re still considered a delicacy.”
Apple Bloom stood on her hind hooves to get a better look at the things. Like the name implied, the fruits had a crystal-like appearance to them, and a shine that she presumed was magical. “And what do you do with’em?”
The mare, now noticing the badge on Apple Bloom’s ribbon, held up a hoof in a formal gesture. “Oh, now, these fruits are magical. They are grown specifically for students of magic. Quartz, you see, it balances out unstable magic, and quartz quinces offer the same benefits as the crystals themselves. Mostly we sell to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, but now that the Empire is back and we can stop worrying about the trees going extinct, the market’s expanded a little. As to how they’re grown, well… it requires some jumping through hoops.”
“Tough trees to manage, huh?” Apple Bloom asked.
“No, I mean literally.” The mare cringed. “We have to get our pickers to jump through hoops in front of the trees, otherwise the silly things refuse to drop. And yes, that sounds ridiculous, but-”
“Oh, no, I know. Magic is as magic does. My family grows Zap Apples, we get the same kinda problems.”
“I’m sure you do.” The mare flashed her a dismissive smile. “There are many trees labelled as Zap Apple trees, all magical.”
“No, I’m serious,” Apple Bloom insisted. “We’ve got the original ones from the Everfree Forest. When the season rolls around, we draw polka dots on our walls and everything.”
“Polka dots?” The old mare adjusted her glasses and leaned in closer. She pricked up her ears when she realised. “Oh, bite my tail, you must be Grand Pear’s granddaughter.”
The girl’s ears shot up with pride. “Yes, Ma’am. I’m from Ponyville.”
“The infamous Apple family, I know.” She nodded. “It’s a pleasure to see one of your kin back here after so many years. You’re from Granny Smith’s side of the family, aren’t you?”
“That’s right.” Apple Bloom smiled brightly. “I’m here with Grand Pear, I’m just doin’ the rounds while he’s busy.”
“Ah, yes, he does keep busy. A little too much sometimes, if you ask me. With his old ticker winding down like it is...”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. You come by again when he’s done, so we can catch up. I’ll drag some stories outta him you’d never hear in Ponyville.” The mare winked.
“Will do.”
Walking along, not much caught her eye or ear the way the crystal fruits did, at least until the smell of pond growth hit her nose.
“Get yer freshly grown seaweed right here!” A stallion called out, a green Unicorn at that, with a very neatly styled mane and tail. “Yes, sir, this here fertilizer is guaranteed to make your garden squeaky clean.”
Apple Bloom walked up to the stand. As before, the owner immediately looked at the badge on her bow and went into a sales pitch. “Good day to you, young Madam. Can I interest you in the secret of the Seapony Kingdom? Freshly harvested kelp, straight from the depths, keeps your fields pristine and nourished!”
Apple Bloom furrowed her brow and smelled the stuff again. This guy had barrels of it right behind him, the odour lingered in the air, but only locally. He probably used a spell to keep it contained. She sniffed the air again to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood. “How does it work?”
“This particular seaweed has been farmed by Seaponies for ages, and it was used on Hippogryph fields centuries before the Storm King appeared. It contains micro-nutrients and probiotics that aid plant growth. A scoop for a pot, or perhaps a larger order for a field?”
“And what about the smell?” she asked, undistracted and undisturbed even as a small crowd formed around her, mares and stallions alike ooh-ing and ah-ing at this fancy new product.
“D’err, ahem, that passes after a while,” the stallion replied.
Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. “Uhuh. Thanks, but I’m not in the market for seaweed fertiliser. And even if I was, I’m pretty sure this is plain old duckweed, anyway.”
Now the salespony started shaking, and his ears fell back as his eyes darted from one potential customer to the next. “N-no, little girl, this is seaweed straight from the Seapony Kingdom.”
Apple Bloom glared at the stallion. “Mister, as it so happens I’ve actually been to the Seapony Kingdom. I’ve gone underwater, one of their royals used his pearl to slap gills and a tail on me. I’ve gone down there, I’ve seen what their kelp looks like and this right here is not their kelp. It’s not even regular kelp. This ain’t nothin’ but a regular old pond growth.” She made a point to smell it again where everyone could see. “This is a freshwater weed: it doesn’t even smell like the ocean.”
“It doesn’t?” He looked down, sniffed it, and quickly cast a spell to change his sign. “Now that you mention it, I must have packed the wrong barrels. Never fear, though, ladies and gentlemen: prime freshwater fertiliser right here! Grown from the mountain lakes in the Hippogryph lands!”
Apple Bloom groaned to herself and moved on. “Darn posers.”
She didn’t get five paces further until she heard another Unicorn’s salespitch.
“Special tonic, get yer miracle tonic right here!”
“I’m startin’ to think I took a wrong turn at Applecorky,” Apple Bloom muttered to herself. She turned, saw what the mare was selling, and sighed as she approached the stand. “Let me guess: it’ll cure whatever ails ya? Heal broken bones, give you back your vitality?”
“You know our product.” The mare smiled down at the filly. “Yes, indeed, it’s a very special secret recipe, concocted by the foremost potion experts in the field.”
“Yeah, I know it alright,” came the reply. “You got it from Flim and Flam down in Las Pegasus. They didn’t even change the label from last time they tried to scam ponies into buying this stuff. Oh, and that secret recipe is apple and beet juice, by the way. We crank that stuff out by the barrel down in Ponyville.”
The mare froze. “Umm...”
Apple Bloom turned her back on the stand and moved on again. “Salesponies, ugh,” she muttered under her breath again. “If you’re gonna sell potions, sell potions, put some effort into it. I’m not even a grownup and I can make a potion.” She stopped herself. “Well, keepin’ in mind the restraining order, that is. Seriously, would it kill ya to show some respect, or at least not lie about your product?”
“You look like you could use a good drink.”
Her ears perked. A boy was looking at her: a Unicorn colt with a very light green coat, almost yellowish, and a burgundy mane that accentuated his deep red eyes. He was currently leaning on the counter of his little lemonade stand. Behind him stood a machine that looked like a modified barrel with all sorts of doodads and gizmos piled into it, complete with a viewport cut into the middle and a tap at the end.
“Depends,” she replied, approaching him. “What have you got?”
Then he went into his salespitch, and Apple Bloom instantly regretted talking to him. He spoke in a faux-fancy accent, speaking quickly so ponies wouldn’t stop and think about his actual words.
“Only the finest product in these hallowed halls: it’s Strrring Bean’s Patented Press-O-Matic fruit and veggie juice. It’s a high-quality product, prrroduced entirely by magic supplied by yours truly.”
Apple Bloom furrowed her brow and tilted her head. This kid looked and sounded awfully familiar. “Have we met before?”
He went back down to all fours and lowered his voice to normal speaking volume and speed. “Don’t think we have, no. I think I’d remember someone my age with a badge like that, not to mention that cutie mark.” He squinted, smiling. “But you do look familiar, now that you mention it. Are you famous or something?”
“My name’s Apple Bloom. I’m from the Apple family in Ponyville.”
He blinked, and Apple Bloom could have sworn he caught his breath when she said that. “Whoa. That’s a ‘yes’ on the famous, then.” He stared at her the way normal ponies stare at a Princess. “I’m String Bean. This is my juicer.” He nodded to his machine. “What are you having? It’s on the house.”
She took a step back. “I couldn’t.”
“Please, I insist.” He gestured to her bow. “You’ve got a badge, after all, and the Apples haven’t been to this Court in years, decades, even. Hey, where’s their booth? I’d love to get their opinion on this.”
“They ain’t here. It’s just me, and my grandpa, Grand Pear.”
His ears fell back. “Oh. You’re from that part of the Apple family.”
“I’m from both sides, actually: Grand Pear is my grandpa on my mother’s side, most of my family is from the Ponyville side, the pioneers,” she explained. “Is that a problem?” What is with this colt? Why do I feel like I know him?
“No, no, not a problem at all. You’re sure you don’t want to try it, then? A drink, I mean.”
As badly as things had gone so far, she didn’t want to be too rude, at least not to this boy. He seemed honest enough. Not very, but enough. “What do you put in it?”
“All sorts of things. Would you like something sweet, sour-ish, or something you’ve never tried before?”
Apple Bloom’s left eyebrow went right up at that. “I’ve had a lot of fruits to taste from, Mister, I don’t think you can really surprise me.”
He smirked and leaned over the counter. “Sounds like a challenge.”
She leaned in closer. “Consider yourself challenged, then, Mister Bean.”
He winked and got to work, his every move in that just a tad showy, annoying salespony fashion she’d learned to notice and hate thanks to-
Flim and Flam.
That’s why he looked so familiar: he had the same manestyle as Flim and Flam, along with a few of their mannerisms, even his colours were alike.
“One Vanhoover Flag, comin’ right up.”
“Okay, this I gotta see.” She quickly abandoned that thought, though, when she saw him get out a flowerpot filled with soil. He placed it on the bench of his little booth, then took a seed out of a bag he had in the back, and planted it. “Wait, hang on, you’re not seriously going to...”
He nodded confidently. “Watch this.”
His horn glowed a bright green, and a shot of energy went into the flowerpot. Within seconds, the seed reacted, sprouting a tiny branch with a single leaf, before growing into a sturdy wooden base to bear a three little fruits.
“ThreeSouthern Equestrian limes, as fresh as is magically possible,” String Bean said, picking the lime up in his magic and dropping another seed in a flowerpot for instant growth. Another blast of magic, and another tiny stump of a tree was ready. “One Night Guard favourite, a Misty Mountain Mango.” He tossed that mango into his machine, whole, same as the limes. “And last but not least, straight from beyond the changeling Hive, an Eastern Unicorn Orange.”
Apple Bloom was stunned at the sight of him using growth magic. In seconds, this kid’s stock went from seed to fruit-bearing tree, and he never so much as squinted. Three flowerpots, three seeds, three shots, that’s all he needed.
“We put all that into the juicer, and...”
He squinted then, though, and hard, pouring every ounce of magic he could spare into his machine, from the looks of it. Apple Bloom could see through the little viewports how the different fruits were separated by size and, somehow, by type. The limes and the oranges were peeled mechanically, there was no glow inside the machine itself. Judging by its outward appearance, Apple Bloom guessed it had been built with two or three major wheels driving the whole thing, and some sort of detection or filter to separate the citrus from the other fruits.
He sighed with relief once he was finished. “And done. Vanhoover Flag, three colours in one cup.” String Bean held a cup under the machine to collect the juice. He held it out to her once he was satisfied.
She looked at him apprehensively for a moment, before accepting it and taking a sip. The sourness of the limes was still there, but the sweet mango really cut into it, while the orange was little more than an afterthought, a simple diluting agent to get the flavour down to manageable levels. Still, she felt that tartness on her teeth. She grimaced, though not unpleasantly. “Yup. That’s a new one, alright.”
He smiled. “Really? You like it?”
“It’s a good recipe, sure.”
The colt’s ears fell back. “But?”
“But, why do you need a machine to do this for you? You’ve obviously got a knack for farmin’ and juicin’, why be lazy about it?”
“Heh, funny you should mention that. Actually, I–”
Something exploded behind him. He quickly turned around and dashed to the source of the bang, which turned out to be a mirror.
“Is everything okay back there?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s a dragonfire message mirror, it’s nothing. I’m not here with anyone, either, my family wants me to keep in touch, you know?”
Apple Bloom took another long sip of her drink. “Yeah, I know what that’s like. It usually stops when you can show you’re responsible. Usually.”
He took a long, hard look at the paper that had been sent through the mirror, and shook his head. “Sorry. Anyway, what I was trying to say is: I use my machine because I use magic. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t exactly have the arms for hard lifting. I like doing stuff with food, but I don’t have the strength for farming, so I stick with this. My cutie mark’s not very clear on my talent, either.”
Truth be told, she was inclined to agree, on both counts. His arms were a little on the long and thin side, string bean arms, basically. Probably ran in his family, too, or he’d had that since he was born, if his name was anything to go by. She took a glance at his cutie mark, and noticed that it, too, was a string bean: a vine of a plant coiling around a stick. A weak plant that needed support to grow up, essentially. There were no pods on it, though, and she wasn’t familiar enough with plants to know by the leaves and pods what species it was, exactly, but it was definitely a bean. “Huh. Well, if you have cutie mark problems, that sort of thing’s my area of expertise. Me and my friends give counselling to ponies like you all the time.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m serious. Me and my friends help out ponies with cutie mark problems. We even organised a camp for blank flanks.”
“Okay, but I’m not a blank flank, though.”
She rolled her eyes. “I mean we help ponies who are confused about their cutie marks, whether they’ve got them or not. You’ve heard of Troublehooves?”
“Yeah. That was you, too?”
Apple Bloom nodded confidently. “Yup. Before I even got my cutie mark doing that sort of thing. I mean, before me and friends did. We usually do this as a team, but if you are looking for advice, and it sounds like it’s a cutie mark problem? Do you need help with that?”
He chuckled. “Umm, actually, yes, please. My umm, my family’s been kinda pushing me in a couple of directions, but none of it is stuff I want to do.” He winced. “I want to do something with farming, with making food, but I don’t think I’m doing it right. And I’m pretty sure you don’t think so, either.”
She looked at the contraption behind him and shrugged. “That’s nothing you need to worry about. I just have a thing against machines, is all, bad experience. Farming’s not a profession you want to muddle up with fancy machinations and whatnot. You do things on your own strength.”
“I built this thing on my own strength,” he argued.
“And that’s mighty impressive, I’m not gonna lie.” She nodded. “But I’m guessin’ you still used magic to do it.”
He shrugged. “Well, yeah, so?”
“So, that’s cuttin’ corners. You’re not gonna find your real talent doing things halfway, put a little more, umm, zest in it, if you catch my drift. And another thing.” She took another gulp. “As tasty as this is, don’t you think it’s a little bit of a waste to be usin’ your magic to grow trees super-fast just for a quick juice?”
He winced. “Umm… yes, I guess it kind of is a waste. But it’s fun, and it’s what I like to do, and I think a lot of ponies will appreciate it.”
Apple Bloom looked away and smiled. “Okay, I guess we can agree to disagree on that part. But try to spice it up a little, put some more elbow grease into it. Make it… make it more authentic. You’ll feel better when you’re doing something that you think matters, making something that’s important to you. You don’t need to hide behind some silly salespony pitch to make a good product.”
“It helps to sell it, though.”
She smiled, albeit reluctantly. “I’ll grant you that, but I don’t think your talent is selling things. A cutie mark like that definitely means growing stuff. Tell you what, I’ll bring my grandpa around when I’ve done my first round of the halls, and after he’s done judging all the squashes… and whatever else he’s judging today. Maybe he can give you some pointers, too.”
“I’d like that.”
Apple Bloom finished her drink and licked her lips. “I mean, this is good stuff, mind you, but I think it is missing something. What else have you tried doing? How’d you get that cutie mark in the first place?”
“Well, growing beans, obviously,” he gestured to his cutie mark. “But I don’t like it. Beans are boring, at least on their own. I’ve tried cooking, too, but I never got past basic recipes. I like doing this, though, I’m just… you know, missing something. I thought maybe if I could come here, I’d see what everypony else is doing, or show off my skills.”
“That’s a good idea. Except, you know, being stuck behind the counter.”
“I never said it was a foolproof plan. But there are other farmers here, other ponies who grow stuff and make stuff.”
Mostly Earth ponies, sure.
Apple Bloom pushed that thought away a quickly as it had popped up. This Unicorn wanted to grow things, and his cutie mark obviously had something to do with growing things, the bean thing was obviously a symbol of some sort, but she didn’t have Twilight’s library to run to to look up what it’d be a symbol for. His talent lay somewhere in the growing department, that much was certain. Being a Unicorn, though, and not one gifted with a strong physique for his kind, nor an early bloomer, meant he would always lean towards using magic. This, in turn, cut him off from the satisfaction of doing a hard day’s work, the way Earth ponies did with their more physical approach to things.
The answer, then, was simple: gently encourage him to do things more like Earth ponies did them.
“Try putting a little more heart and respect into it,” she suggested.
“How am I supposed to do that?”
She weighed her words carefully, so as not to offend him. “Try to think of something that makes it feel more important, like you put more effort into it. If you let your machine do all the work, well, it ends up coming across as kind of cheap, is all.”
He tapped his chin. “So… try to do it more traditionally?”
“Exactly.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “I think I know how to do that. Thanks, Apple Bloom.”
“Don’t mention it. I’ll come by later and see how it goes.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll love it.”
She trotted off with a spring in her step.
Just got in and I’ve already helped somepony out. Grand Pear’s gonna be so proud.
Well, that's intriguing. As are the intimations of Grand Pear's heart problems.
I'd say "Applecorky" is the best ponification of Albaquerque I've ever seen, but I'm not sure if anyone's ever made the attempt.
In any case, this definitely looks like it'll be a good one. Looking forward to it.
5052036
At the risk of sounding like a broken record later: you should have seen the original concept. That had some full team interaction, and it ended up being just downright depressing. And scrapped, because it made Apple Bloom look not just bad, but bad in a way the show already established she wouldn't be in the first place. Having the afterthought of making her grandfather proud was a serendipitous find in clouding her judgment.
Look forward to stall-holders in the full story... when it gets done around Christmas, at this rate
As it stands, there will be two appearances by bat ponies, and a changeling stand near the yaks. Guess what the changelings are growing, it's another scrapped concept I'm re-using here 
Hint: it's something used to make bird's nests, as well as an ingredient in soup.
No points for guessing what the bat ponies are selling, though. There's only two things the fandom would accept there, and one of them would be banned from anywhere indoors