//------------------------------// // 6. Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered // Story: Bon-Bon the Demon Slayer // by ObabScribbler //------------------------------// I am unsure how I am to begin. I am not one for writing as I am not good with words. I do not have as many as others so I must use what I have as best I can. This does me fine in my life outside this paper as I do not have to talk much in my new employment, yet my thoughts twist and turn so much that I wish I had more to spend with a quill. Perhaps then my head would not be so full, if they were trapped in ink and I could fold them up, put them away and never read them again. My book-learning wasn’t much as a filly but it was what Ma could do and I always thought it was enough. My sisters and I knew more than any other pony in our street. We can all spell pretty good and she even taught us things like punctuation before she was took from us. Pa says she knew it all because she was a lady’s maid when she was young and lived in a big house in Trottingham Forest. She would sit in while her young mistress took lessons and picked up all sorts of things a pony like her would never usually know. I thought myself proper educated until I came to the castle and heard the great wealth of words used by the scholars and courtiers here. They spend words like they spend coins, using so many at once when often there is no need, and usually only to impress each other. It is a good thing I am not required to open my mouth much as I think they would think me stupid. Yet I fear if I do not pen my thoughts now I will go mad. As I read what I have just written I realise that I have started this all wrong. One should not begin a diary waffling on about things that are not important. Who cares what I think of the way courtiers talk? I am only a servant. My opinion matters naught. I am to attend to my duties no matter what I think of them or I will likely be dismissed. The Head Retainer is in charge of who gets to work in the castle and who doesn’t. He chooses the jobs for each of us and may task me with emptying the privvies if I complain or voice my thoughts in a way he thinks is discourteous to those highborn. As he said when I came to work here, there are many ponies of my station who would like a job in the castle and I am lucky to be afforded the opportunity. I do not wish to lose this position. My sisters are all employed here already and have always told me how wonderful it is to work in Canterlot Castle compared with anywhere else. I believe them with all my heart, for I remember well what life was like for us in years past. Cobweb, my eldest sister, had to find work when Ma died so we didn’t all starve. She worked in a tavern and informed me since that although she was paid handsomely, the scar on her neck was not worth the money. I remember the day Pa had to send for the doctor because we all thought she might die from that wound. There had been a fight between two stallions and the knife one threw missed its mark and struck her instead. Pa spent all our coin on the doctor because the ruffians ran away and could not be found. Mustardseed and I had to go out each day to pick berries and gather tree bark until we could afford food again. Sometimes we tried to bring in grass but it was a hot summer and most was brown and too dry to eat. Eventually we had to go into the Everfree Forest itself to feed our family, though we never went more than a dozen yards. The Everfree is a strange place. Things grew there that should not have been possible in the heat. Those dozen yards live in my memory to this day, though I was little more than a foal at the time. I learned then the importance of money but also the importance of earning it out of harm's way. As I am youngest of we four, I have always relied on my sisters to teach me what Ma did not have time to teach me about the world. Pa did what he could but sometimes I needed to know things only a mare could tell me. Without Ma, my sisters took up the task of raising me and aided me when it came time for me to find paid work. I tried helping Pa but I was not strong enough to pull his cart more than a few inches, much less journey from village to village delivering things, as he does. My sisters may well speak of how they enjoy working at the castle. They are all servants to ponies who treat them well. Mustardseed works in the kitchen, where Mrs Quickly holds sway with an iron hoof, yet she is a kindly mare to those who do not shirk their duties. Moth and Cobweb are both personal servants to nobles, much as I am. They were as surprised as I when the Head Retainer gave me this task, since I am an unproven worker and too young to have any experience. Yet now I am three months past my first day with Master Starswirl I understand more why no other was called to attend him. I fancy he has already sent away all those who do not already have masters or mistresses and I was the only pony left to fill the role. I cannot lose this job, yet he is the most horrible pony I have ever had the misfortune to meet! I must not voice this aloud, not even to my sisters in case somepony overhears, but he is so awful I have nearly said so more than once. Thus I have chosen to keep this diary, so that I may write my thoughts and so hopefully be free of them before they can do me ill. Master Starswirl is one of the most revered ponies at court. He is learned in many magical arts and has probably forgotten more arcanery than most unicorns will ever know. Yet he has no family and from what I have learned he has never shown interest in selecting a wife, nor fathering foals to continue his bloodline. There are some that say he is incapable and that is why he has not indulged in love of any kind since Princess Celestia brought him to court many years ago. I, however, believe his temperament to be a better reason, for what mare could possibly endure him long enough to produce his offspring? He is wedded only to his studies and has forsaken all else for them – including basic manners. He speaks to me only when he has to, for which I am glad. Once, near the beginning of my employ, he attempted to engage me in conversation at somepony else’s behest. The attempt ended badly when he learned my name and afforded me only ridicule and scorn. He has called me ‘Cankerblossom’ ever since and I am unable to correct him, nor protest. All I may do is suffer his indignations and go about my duties regardless. He thinks me dull-witted and slow and tells me these things without hesitation. He snipes when I make mistakes and is given to shouting when he is displeased, whether with me or his work. His studies often leave him peevish, though he is worst when he has spoken with Silvertongue the Gifted. Then his ire is like a storm filled with lightning looking to strike anypony in its path. And I seem always to be in his path. Oh, how I wish I was servant to Silvertongue instead of Master Starswirl! I am sure that lovely stallion would not treat me so. He would not call me dullard or curse me when I trip over some arcane scroll he has left carelessly on the floor. He would not stay awake until the early hours, working on some spell that could wait until dawn, ringing the bell to summon me so I can fetch him fresh candles. There is talk amongst the other servants of a journey to be undertaken soon for the Summer Sun Celebration. Nopony knows which place Her Highness will choose to grace with her presence this year. Wherever she goes, it is likely Master Starswirl will be expected to accompany her along with the other highest courtiers. I wonder if I will be expected to go too. If I am, I dearly hope the festivities put him in a better humour. One that lasts! -- Taken from the diary of Peaseblossom, 488 AS. Fleur raised her head with a groan. At first she thought her eyes were glued shut, since all she could see was blackness. Then she realised it wasn’t her vision. She was in a dark room, lying on a cold floor. She blinked, allowing herself to become accustomed to the meagre light, which seemed to be coming from another room some distance away. “Wh-Where …?” she started to say. She froze at the sound of movement nearby. “Hello? Is … is somepony there? Where am I? Who are you?” She shook her head to dispel the headache sitting behind her eyes. “What’s going on?” The sound got closer and then stopped. A pair of eyes shone in the gloom. They were close to the floor and trembled slightly. “The guards brought you down here. You were asleep. You’ve been asleep for ages.” The eyes blinked at her. “You’re not a foal.” This was said as if her age was something peculiar. “What?” Fleur looked around. The air smelled dank and unpleasant. Was that … green mould shining wetly by her hoof? She snapped her leg under her and repeated her questions more frantically. “Where am I? Who are you? What’s going on?” “You’re in the dungeon,” said the owner of the eyes. “I’m Petal and I … I don’t know why you’re here.” The emphasis on the word ‘you’re’ would have made Fleur question the reason the speaker was here, if panic wasn’t climbing her insides like a champion mountaineer with very spiky boots. “The dungeon? Where? The dungeons under Canterlot were dismantled centuries ago. Princess Celestia hasn’t held anypony in them in hundreds of years. Where is this place?” “I … I …” The speaker stuttered fearfully. “I don’t know. Nopony here knows exactly where this place is. Sometimes someone comes and takes one of us away but they never come back so we can’t ask them and … and …” The speaker began to cry. It was such a soft, pathetic sound that it put the brakes on Fleur’s emotions with a sudden realisation. The speaker was a foal. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice only slightly strangled. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Fleur. Fleur de Lis. Maybe you’ve heard of me?” “I have,” said another voice, also very young. “My sister has magazines with your picture in them back home. At least … she did when I left. I don’t know if she still has them. She was a big fan of yours. She wanted to be a model like you when she finishes high school.” “Who are you?” Fleur asked. “I’m Dewberry.” A second set of eyes appeared next to the first. “Don’t mind Petal. She’s always crying. I don’t cry at all ‘cause I’m a big colt now.” Any pony who had to claim to be a ‘big colt’ was automatically a very young one. Fleur strained to see the pair better. “Could you come closer? I can barely see you.” “You’re not a demon, are you?” Fleur blinked. “Excuse me?” “Only, they only every bring foals down here,” Dewberry went on. “And you’re not a foal, so you might not even be a pony at all.” Fleur could barely follow this logic. “There are no such things as demons.” “Yes there are!” Petal sniffled. “They put you in here with us.” “No.” Fleur shook her head. “You’re mistaken. Demons aren’t real. They’re myths.” Just like the Mare in the Moon had been just a myth, her brain whispered traitorously. She shoved the thought away. These two were just foals. Foals made up stories to explain away what they didn’t understand of the world. Of course a scary looking pony would become a demon in a foal’s imagination. Petal, however, was adamant. “They’re demons,” she whimpered and would not be dissuaded. “I heard them talking. That’s the word they used. They’re definitely demons.” Fleur decided not to pursue semantics. There were much bigger things to worry about. She got to her feet, wobbling a little and trying to remember what she had been doing before waking up here. She had been … walking. Yes, that was it. She had been walking with Fancy Pants and he had … she had thought … he had taken her down a covered walkway away from prying eyes so he could propose to her. Or that was what she had thought, at least. Except that he hadn’t proposed. No, something had happened. She had passed out and then woken up in this place. Her head jerked up. “Did the guards bring another unicorn down here with me? A stallion with a blue mane? And a white coat? And a cute little moustache?” She blinked down at the two cowering foals, whose outlines were clearer now she was standing. She could make out the shape of their noses, foreheads and … two little nubby horns. “They didn’t bring any stallion,” said Dewberry. He was the brown foal on the left, his tiny tan mane streaked with dirt. When he looked up at her Fleur could see his muzzle was a much darker shade of brown that matched his eyes. “But we’re all unicorns here.” “All?” echoed Fleur. “Uh-huh.” Petal nodded her little yellow head, white mane swishing in front of her face. Her eyes were a shade of amber that made her look like somepony had tried to emulate the exact shade of dead dandelions. “Every last one of us.” Finally taking more notice of her surroundings, Fleur looked around. Her eyes absorbed every scrap of light, highlighting the bars on the window set high in the wall, through which she could see an ugly purple-red sky. A set of old stone steps led up to a heavy wooden door, also with bars in its tiny window. Scattered about the room were bits of sacking and cloth bunched into heaps, plus several piles of straw. Around these peered the faces of foals, some even smaller than Dewberry and Petal, some school-aged fillies and colts and a few old enough that they were nearly full-grown, but who still carried the short-legged stockiness of foals. Dozens and dozens of frightened foals stared at her. Maybe even hundreds. Fleur’s mouth fell open and her stomach lurched. “Sweet Celestia … where am I?” “Get up! Get up! I know you’re in there! Bon-Bon, get your lazy butt out here!” Bon-Bon groaned and rolled out of bed. “What in the name of Celestia?” She staggered to the window, where the sound of pebbles hitting glass was still making its rat-a-tat-tat. She peered through and then threw open the windows to lean out. “Lyra?” Lyra grinned up, horn still glowing. Around her half a dozen more pebbles were lined up ready for launch. “Howdy.” “Why are you throwing rocks at my window?” “Duh! You’re late.” “Late for what? It’s barely past sunrise.” For everypony else that meant they were getting up early. For her it meant she had only just gone to bed. “Double duh!” Lyra pulled a face. “Of course it is. Now get down here pronto. It’s time to go wash in the morning dew.” “It’s … what!?” Baffled, Bon-Bon didn’t move. “Is this another prank? I still haven’t forgiven you for last time.” “You take things too personally. How was I supposed to know popping candy would react so badly with lemon juice? You’ve got to admit, it was fun to watch.” “Twinkleshine didn’t think so.” “She only cared that her new manestyle got wrecked. I, personally, thought she looked better with a buzz-cut. Besides, it grew back, didn’t it?” “Eventually.” Lyra waved a hoof. “Details, details. You’re stalling. C’mon, before the other mares and fillies take all the good places.” “Lyra, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Of course you do!” Lyra insisted. “You were here for May Day last year, weren’t you?” “No. I arrived in June.” “Really?” “Yeah.” A month before Twilight came to organise the Summer Sun Celebration. Had she really been in Ponyville nearly a year? “Oh.” Momentarily stymied, it took Lyra only a few seconds to rally. “Well then it’s time you were educated in how to celebrate May Day, Ponyville style!” “Just one problem,” Bon-Bon called back. “May Day was last Thursday. It’s Monday.” “It was only technically last Thursday,” Lyra insisted. “That was the first day of May, which used to be May Day in olden times, but today is May Day these days because it’s the first Monday of May and it doesn’t move around as much on the calendar as the first day.” She beamed. “See? It all makes sense when you think about it.” “Thinking about all those days makes my head hurt,” Bon-Bon replied. The shutters on the bedroom to her other neighbour, on the opposite side of her house to Lyra’s, slammed open angrily. A head thrust out. If he had been more awake, he probably would have put his toupee on before he started yelling. “And listening to you two idiots is making my ears hurt! Put a sock in it, will ya?” “Sorry, Cranky,” Bon-Bon apologised. Deciding capitulation was the lesser of two evils, she shut her windows, grabbed a brush and cantered downstairs to let Lyra inside. “Don’t bother with that!” Lyra cried at sight of the brush. “You’ll be fine without all that primping for one day!” “I’m going to brush my mane and tail,” Bon-Bon said with the kind of firmness Mayor Mare would have loved to inject into her own voice during town council meetings. “It won’t take long.” “You always say that,” Lyra pouted, throwing herself melodramatically onto the couch. Doggedly, Bon-Bon hooked her hoof under the strap of elastic stretched across the back of the circular brush. She pressed her hoof flat for manoeuvrability and pulled the stiff bristles through her mane, separating the pink locks from blue and twisting the end of each into her signature curls. She marvelled, sometimes, at how she could come home covered in gunk and not care, and had once thrown herself into a cesspit to tackle a wolf-demon running away from a campsite, but refused to go out in the morning without this ritual. “Are you done yet?” Lyra whined. “Don’t rush me. And how come you have time for this? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?” “Duh. Everything’s closed today. It’s May Day!” “Stop saying duh.” “I will when you stop saying duh-worthy stuff.” Lyra fluffed her own bangs, pulling critically at one white strand. “I don’t know how you can stand doing that every day. It would drive me nuts!” “You could stand to brush your own mane more often,” Bon-Bon pointed out. “Half the time you look like you stuck your hoof in an electrical outlet. Or went through a hedge backwards. Or jumped in the lake and then stood in front of Sugarcube Corner’s big oven.” “Ha ha. Are you done NOW?” Bon-Bon swung her mane experimentally. “Almost.” She twisted to start on her tail, holding it alongside her flank with one foreleg while brushing with the other. The smooth, repetitive motion was soothing in a way she couldn’t put into words. Not even Lyra’s whinging could put a dent in the feeling of satisfaction as her tail turned from a matted mess back into glossy hair, which she spritzed with a canister of hairspray to help it keep its shape. Well, almost. “Bon-Bon!” Lyra wailed, elongating the vowels like a spoiled filly whining for candy. “And I’m done.” Bon-Bon laid the brush down on the coffee table. “Do I need to bring anything?” “Just yourself!” Lyra leaped off the couch and shoved her unceremoniously towards the door. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, C’MON!” As Bon-Bon went out of the door, she felt the Lunar Sword start to wail in the back of her mind. Where was she going? Why was she leaving? She gritted her teeth and formed a clear thought for it to pick up. I’m going out. I’ll be back later. The sword only wailed louder. Since the noise was only in her head, Bon-Bon’s senses registered it as a mixture of sound, taste and a feeling like pins-and-needles. She hadn’t taken the sword with her on patrol even once since they got back from Canterlot. She had just put it away in the attic and gone off with her usual weapons. It wasn’t fair! The sword was useful! It could help her! That was what it was for! Why did she keep leaving it behind? Why? Why? Why? Bon-Bon’s teeth gritted so hard she thought she might crack a molar. I’ll be back later, she thought. I promise. Outside lots of ponies were also walking, despite the early hour. Bon-Bon looked but could see no colt or stallion amongst them. From the old to the young, every pony was female and headed towards the edge of town. She could hear the sword still wailing but it grew fainter with distance. “Let me get this straight,” she said in a low voice. “All these ponies are going to wash their faces in the morning dew? Seriously? No joke?” “Don’t be so suspicious, Bon-Bon,” Lyra chastised. “Okay, but just answer me this: why?” “Because it’s tradition.” “Why?” “Because it’s something fillies and mares have always done on May Day ever since Ponyville was founded – and the ponies who founded it did it long before that, too.” “But why?” “I can answer that one, young ‘un.” A creaky voice interrupted them, causing them both to look up at the three ponies making their own, slightly slower way along the street. “Howdy, y’all,” said Applejack, tipping her hat. “Hi, Applejack! Hi, Apple Bloom! Hi, Granny Smith!” Lyra waved furiously at each of them, her face wreathed with delight. Bon-Bon watched her with a small smile of her own. Lyra was always glad to see other ponies and treated everyone as if they had been away for months and only just returned home. She reminded Bon-Bon of a puppy that was equally pleased to see the mailpony as it was to see its owner. “You wanna know why we girls go out early to wash in the dew?” Granny Smith continued, not bothering with a greeting. She stared at Bon-Bon as if Lyra wasn’t even there. “Well, it’s all on account of thinkin’ it’ll make us beautiful for the comin’ year.” “It is?” Bon-Bon gaped. “But that’s so … vain.” “As vain as spending hours brushing your mane and tail morning, noon and night?” Lyra said slyly. “That’s different. How is morning dew supposed to make any difference to how beautiful a pony is? Especially if she only washes in it once a year? Plus, in the first place, ew! Morning dew can’t be hygienic to wash in anyway!” “Don’t mind her,” Lyra stage-whispered behind her hoof. “She gets like this sometimes.” Yeah, sometimes; when I remember to act that way. The vanity thing had started by accident, inspired by the brush set she had purchased the first day Lyra showed her around Ponyville. She had pored over the stiff and fine bristles of the various brushes and combs, marvelling that she could own them now. While on the road, she had been limited to what she could fit in her saddlebags and in the pouches on her belt. Since she required weapons, banishing powder vials and other necessities, elaborate collections of mane-brushes were out. Being thought of as a little vain had helped to cement her image as somepony so unlikely to get down and dirty battling evil, it didn’t even bear thinking about. “If I had a mane like yours, I’d brush it a whole bunch too!” Apple Bloom declared. She stared enviously at Bon-Bon’s curls, swishing her own mop-like tail. “How’d you get it to stay like that?” “Hairspray,” Bon-Bon replied. “Lots and lots of hairspray.” “She’s not kidding,” Lyra added. “She can get through two cans in a week – and that’s a good week. In a bad week she can get through five!” “Really?” Apple Bloom gawped. Bon-Bon sighed. “So, this morning dew thing. How the hay did it get so popular? It seems like every female pony in town is out here.” “They pretty much are,” said Applejack. “Those who can’t, like the mares in the Old Ponies’ Home, have dew brought to ‘em in bowls by the nurses.” “Ponyville’s a place of traditions,” said Granny Smith. “Time was, when the town was new an’ times were tough, traditions were a way of makin’ the settlers feel better about their decisions to move here. A good darn sight of ‘em were from cities or plains country, includin’ the Apple Family, so scratchin’ out a livin’ right next to the Everfree Forest was a life-changin’ choice. The traditions they brought with ‘em made ‘em feel better an’ the traditions they made here knit the community together. It’s why we got so darn many celebration days in these parts: the leaders back then tried hard to make everypony feel included an’ so included special days from all over Equestria.” That would certainly explain a few things. Bon-Bon had wondered why Ponyville, a relatively new town from a historical standpoint, had so many more holidays than anywhere else she had ever been – many of them far older than the town itself. “Granny knows what she’s talkin’ about,” Apple Bloom said proudly. “She helped build Ponyville when she was just a filly.” “You did?” Bon-Bon was impressed. She had thought Granny Smith old but apparently she was positively ancient! She sure moved spryly for somepony who had weathered so many years. Granny ruffled her youngest granddaughter’s mane affectionately, being careful to avoid the carefully tied bow. “Aw, shucks, I didn’t do much. I was too young – barely got my cutie mark by the time my Pa helped raise the first Town Hall. That’s the third one we’re on now, on account of the big storm that happened the year I got married, when a manticore came out the forest an’ pretty much knocked down most of the town. Poor beast was half-mad from snake poison an’ fell over in the middle of the town square, dead as a doornail. The second went when some lil’ pegasus filly was messin’ around tryin’ to make a tornado by her lonesome an’ accidentally whipped the whole buildin’ into the air before her parents wound it down to a breeze. Now what was that silly filly’s name again?” “Rainbow Dash, Granny,” Applejack sighed. “Ah, that was it.” Granny Smith stamped her hoof as if she had thought of the name herself. “Rainbow Dash! She once saved me from fallin’ offa that dark stupid ladder in the barn, y’know. I know, I know, I ain’t s’posed to climb it but I had powerful need for the pitchfork an’ Big Macintosh had left it in the hayloft. Well I teetered an’ tottered an’ was about to fall on my noggin’ when BOOM!” She shouted loud enough to make two passing mares turn to look. “That Rainbow Dash swooped right in an’ saved my hide from bein’ a mess for some poor pony to clean up.” “You never told me about that, Granny,” Applejack said with a puzzled frown. “On account of I didn’t remember until just this instant right here an’ now. Oh, by the way, sweetheart, that blue pegasus friend of yours is lookin’ for you.” Granny Smith blinked, her rheumy eyes momentarily caught between past and present. “What was I talkin’ about again?” “How you helped build Ponyville,” Apple Bloom said helpfully, utterly missing the beat of pain in her sister’s eyes at their grandmother’s slip. “An’ why we wash our faces in mornin’ dew on May Day.” “Speakin’ of which, we’d better move along.” Applejack nudged her gently until she started walking. “Lots of things to do today after we’re done washin’.” “Oh fiddlesticks, we’ve got plenty of time.” Nevertheless, Granny Smith also started walking, her voice dragging Lyra and Bon-Bon along in her wake. “This whole mornin’ dew thing is a tradition leftover from the village that used to be where Ponyville is now.” “But I thought there weren’t no town or village or nuthin’ in these parts when you got here, Granny,” Apple Bloom protested. “That’s what you told me. That’s why y’all decided to settle here.” “That’s true, sweetheart, there weren’t no settlement ‘cept for ours. I’m just sayin’ that, once upon a time, there was a village here. Not for a few hundred years, mind you. The way Pa told it, when we pulled up our wagons an’ made camp there were only a couple of families livin’ way apart from each other, but he took ‘em in an’ their traditions became Ponyville traditions too, an’ THEIR families from way back in the distant yonder came from that there village. Now what did he say its name was?” She squinted at nothing, lips pursing in frustration. “Dagnabbit it, I can’t remember!” “It don’t matter, Granny,” said Applejack. “Look, we’re here.” They stopped at the edge of town, where the last buildings butted up against the stretch of open country between Ponyville and the Everfree Forest. Everywhere she looked, Bon-Bon saw mares and fillies sliding their hooves into the long grass and then scrubbing at their faces. A few had finished and were returning to town, chattering happily amongst themselves. “That right there looks like a good spot!” Apple Bloom pointed. “Look, Rarity an’ Sweetie Belle are already here with their mom!” “Ponyfeathers, Rarity’s got a face on her that’d spoil milk,” Applejack muttered. “She must not approve of her mom pairin’ those orange stripes on her blouse with neon green pants. C’mon, Apple Bloom, let’s mosey on over an’ say hi. Granny? You comin’?” “Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’, I’m comin’!” Granny Smith said irritably, clearly still frustrated at herself for not remembering the name of the old village. “Dagnabbit, this brain of mine’s got more holes in it than the Town Hall roof!” Applejack tipped her hat at Lyra and Bon-Bon. “Mighty fine talkin’ to y’all. Hope to see you both at the celebrations later. Lyra, I swear, I’m gonna kick your team’s butt at tug-o-war this year.” Lyra immediately flattened her forelegs to the ground, wiggling her backside in the air just like a puppy. “I’d like to see you try. Bon-Bon’s going to be on my team this year.” “Oh she is, is she?” “I am?” This was news to Bon-Bon. “Sure she is,” Lyra shot back. “She’s my bestest best friend and she’s going to help me kick YOUR team’s butt this year!” Applejack grinned. “We’ll see.” She trotted off to join her family and friends. “Well,” Lyra said when all three Apples were out of earshot. She got to her feet and tossed her head, as if she had just emerged victorious from some epic battle. “That was fun.” Without waiting for a reply, she swung around to stand on two legs and grabbed one of Bon-Bon’s front hooves, forcing her to stand upright too. “C’mon, let’s get washing.” She dragged her over to a patch of grass nopony else had stripped of dew and they both fell back onto all-fours. “Now what?” Bon-Bon asked. “Do I need to draw you a map?” Lyra gestured at the other ponies around them. “You wash your face.” Without further ado, she formed her hooves into a hollow, scooped up droplets of moisture from the long grass and splashed herself with them. The early light refracting off the droplets that flew up around her face gave her an ethereal appearance, like some fey creature from a storybook. Bon-Bon couldn’t help staring. She gulped and quickly dropped her gaze, forming her face into a mask of disgust to cover any trace of other emotions that might be showing. She eyed the grass, copied Lyra’s action and splashed herself. “Is that it?” “Duh! Weren’t you watching? You have to rub it in. Here, like this.” Lyra grabbed her chin with one hoof and, balancing on her hind legs again, scrubbed at Bon-Bon’s cheeks, making damp swirls of the fur there. Bon-Bon stared, wide-eyed in shock at the unexpected contact. After a few moments Lyra turned Bon-Bon’s face from side to side critically, inspecting her work. “You’ll do.” She released her friend and trotted away as if nothing had happened. Which, for her, was true. “Hurry up, Bon-Bon! We don’t want to miss anything! Especially if this is your first May Day in Ponyville.” “Uh, yeah.” More slowly, hoping her blush would die down fast, Bon-Bon followed her. Ponies were setting things up in the town square and park. Bon-Bon stared around her, marvelling at the energy everyone seemed to have when usually they didn’t stir until well past this time. Four stallions marched past carrying a long wooden pole, while a small colt ran alongside them counting so they could stay in time with each other’s steps. “There is not a budding girl, this day!” rang out a clear baritone at the front of the line. “But is got up and gone to bring in May!” replied one of the ponies carrying the pole. “Except they’re all coming back now,” added the stallion behind him. “And looking prettier than ever!” The last pony of the four was Mr. Cake. He smiled at somepony behind Lyra and Bon-Bon and blew a kiss. Neither of them was surprised to turn around and see Mrs. Cake. She pushed a stroller with two seats set in front and behind each other, where Pound and Pumpkin burbled happily. Evidently foals did not suffer the same morning lethargy as adult ponies. Pumpkin’s tiny face glistened with morning dew, as did her mother’s. “Whoops! Look out below!” Bon-Bon hurled herself at Mrs. Cake and the stroller, skidding to a halt when a garland of flowers landed on the older mare’s head, partially obscuring one eye. She giggled like a filly half her age as two pegasi descended to retrieve it. “Sorry, ma’am,” said the black stallion in a voice like melted chocolate. His was the kind of voice that was built for moonlit strolls and crooning love songs. “Lost my grip on it for a second.” “Don’t worry about it, Thunderlane,” Mrs. Cake assured him. “No harm done.” Pound reached greedily for a flower that had come off the garland. He wailed when Pumpkin levitated it towards her own mouth with a few fizzles of magic. Mrs. Cake plucked it away before her daughter could bite down on the delicate petals. “Not for you, sweetie. This is for the houses.” Pumpkin started up her own wailing to match her brother’s. “Oh dear.” Mrs. Cake poked the flower back into the garland and rolled the stroller back and forth. “I’d better get these two someplace they can forget this cruelty.” She winked at the two pegasi. Thunderlane snapped off a salute and flapped his wings. The other stallion, his total opposite in colouring and hairstyle, did likewise. They rose into the sky and flew off towards where a group of other pegasi carrying garlands were festooning the houses around the square with them. At ground level, groups of earth ponies and unicorns were also decorating with flowers, leaves, branches and all manner of other green things. “They’re dressing the houses already?” Lyra said regretfully. “Aw, phooey.” “They’re what?” She pointed. “It’s tradition to dress up houses with vegetation to lure in spirits for good luck with the crops during Spring and Summer.” No wonder she had never seen these traditions before, Bon-Bon thought. The only greenery in cities and bigger towns could be found in the salad tray of most ponies’ refrigerators. “Should we be doing that too?” “Uh-huh.” Lyra looked around and spotted something that made her grin. “Over there. Hey, Minuette! Wait up!” The cobalt unicorn paused and turned at the sound of Lyra’s voice. Pale blue magic surrounded her horn and the collection of individual blooms above her head. She had apparently collected them from Lily, Rose and Daisy, who stood in the centre of the square beside wheelbarrows piled high with flowers from their gardens. When her eyes found Lyra, Minuette smiled. It dimmed when she spotted Bon-Bon behind her. “Oh. Hi, Lyra. Hi, Bon-Bon.” Bon-Bon had spoken to Minuette only a few times and only when looking for Lyra at Music Makers. Each time Minuette had always been pleasant and friendly, yet her tone now was icy and her eyes burned with hostility. “Can we help you decorate your house?” Lyra gestured to one of the houses facing directly into the square. “This is Bon-Bon’s first May Day in Ponyville. She missed it last year, so I’m making sure she gets to try her hoof at everything.” “Sure, she can help decorate it,” Minuette replied in a tone that said how much she didn’t want Bon-Bon anywhere near her house. Lyra, however, either totally missed or totally ignored it. “Brilliant! We’ll get some flowers and be right over. Go on and start without us, okay?” “Fine.” Minuette stalked off, her step much less cheerful than it had been. Evidently her friendship and working relationship with Lyra was enough to make her accept Bon-Bon’s help but she wasn’t happy about it. “She sure seems in a bad mood,” Bon-Bon observed as they advanced on Daisy’s wheelbarrow. “What are you talking about?” Lyra examined the flowers and picked a pink one out with her telekinesis. “She said we could help her. Hey, Daisy, what is this? You know I’m no good with flowers.” “It’s a peony,” Daisy replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Bon-Bon would have had to crane forward like Lyra to hear it if she had not possessed extra-sharp Slayer senses. “The symbol of wealth, royal grandeur, romance and good fortune in love.” “This little thing meanss all that?” Lyra turned the feathery circular bloom around suspiciously. “Well, you’re the expert I guess; and Minuette could sure use some good fortune in love. How many can we have for her house?” In the end they collected a dozen peonies, several gerberas, some dahlias from Lily and some red and white anemones from Rose. Bon-Bon had chosen the anemones when Lyra demanded she contribute to the display and carried them behind Lyra’s floating choices towards Minuette’s house. “What did you mean when you said Minuette could use some good fortune in love?” she asked. “Hmm? Oh, that. She’s had a crush on Noteworthy for, like, forever but he’s a typical stallion and doesn’t notice a thing. Honestly, they can be so dense when it comes to the subtle stuff, huh? I keep telling her she should just ask him out already but she’s worried he’ll say no because of being her boss, so she never says anything. You should’ve seen her on Heart and Hooves Day. It was sad. She just moped around the shop and then bought all the cheap chocolate hearts from Sugarcube Corner the day afterwards. I felt like sending her a bunch of roses and pretending in the note they were from him but then I thought better of it. Lies never work out, even the well-intentioned ones, right?” Suddenly Minuette’s attitude started to make more sense to Bon-Bon. When they arrived at her house and she shot a poisonous look that completely missed Lyra but smacked Bon-Bon in the face like a bucket of cold water, she felt sure: Minuette had somehow heard about her ‘date’ with Noteworthy last week and was not taking it well. It was laughable really, except in all the ways it wasn’t. Jealousy radiated off her when there was absolutely no need. Bon-Bon had no interest in Noteworthy and never would. Making Minuette understand that, however, was harder than it seemed. The fact that she blanked every effort Bon-Bon made to speak to her didn’t help matters at all. They finished decorating the front of the house to the accompaniment of Lyra’s chatter. When they were done they stood back to admire their work. Lyra balanced on two legs to fold her forelegs across her chest in satisfaction. “Not bad, if I do say so myself. I have to admit, Minuette, the treble clef made of flowers was an inspired touch.” “You’re only saying that because it was your idea,” Minuette replied tightly. “I know and it was an inspired one.” A loud rumble cut the air. “Whoops! Excuse me. I guess it’s time for breakfast. C’mon, girls, let’s go see what we’ve got this year.” “I thought you said all the stores are closed,” Bon-Bon protested as Lyra dragged her and Minuette along, a hoof clamped around one foreleg each. “Why are you going to the café?” “Duh!” Lyra laughed. “The stores are closed for business, not closed completely. Anypony participating in the celebrations gets fed free of charge and we three are participators.” She raised her head to inhale deeply. “Mmm, that smells good. Grub’s up!” She raised one hind hoof, balancing precariously on her last leg to kick the café door open. Half a dozen faces looked up in surprise at their entrance. Uncaring, Lyra proceeded to a small round table and plonked Minuette and Bon-Bon in the two chairs already there, noisily dragging up a third for herself. Bon-Bon could see ponies gritting their teeth at the unearthly screeching and looking on disapprovingly, but no-one said anything. Apparently Lyra’s antics were familiar enough that all the patrons were resigned to them. “Ooh, ooh, ooh!” Lyra waved her hoof. “Waiter, over here! Over here, waiter!” She dropped her hoof at his approach. “Three full breakfasts, my good pony. We’ve got to keep our strength up for the celebrations later today.” The waiter was not, however, looking at her. Instead, his gaze fell on Bon-Bon and, after a momentary widening of his eyes, he broke into a smile. “Cherie! Ah, it is so good to be seeing you again!” “Huh?” Lyra looked on blankly as he grabbed Bon-Bon’s foreleg and kissed the back of her hoof exaggeratedly. Minuette rolled her eyes, resting one elbow on the table while tapping the tip of her other hoof against it irritably. “Well that figures,” she muttered too quietly for anyone but a Slayer to hear. It took bon-Bon a moment to place the stallion in her memory. “Horte Cuisine! I forgot you said you worked here.” “Oui,” he said brightly. “I am so much happiness to be seeing you. Are you well?” “I’m fine, thanks. Uh, do you know my, uh, friends?” she asked, gesturing with only the tiniest hesitation at both Lyra and Minuette. “Non, but I welcome them to Café Magnifique on this finest of fine days.” He reached to kiss Lyra’s hoof and then Minuette’s in turn. Minuette snatched hers back while Lyra continued to look bemused. “You two know each other?” “We met once, briefly,” Bon-Bon explained. “Oui, mademoiselle,” agreed Horte. “Though it was a meeting that lived on in my mind long after we parted. And now to see you again, it is good fortune, oui?” “Uh, oui.” “But I am being too much rudeness,” Horte chastised himself. He produced a notepad ostensibly from nowhere and gripped a pencil in his other hoof. Bon-Bon noted idly that he was a leftie as he scribbled down their order in remarkably neat script for an earth pony. Unicorns were always the best scribes, owing to their magic, with earth ponies and pegasi coming a poor second unless they really worked at it. Horte, apparently, was very practised as he dotted each ‘i’ and crossed each ‘t’ with a flourish. “Trois grands petits déjeuners, oui?” At their blank looks he translated, “Three big breakfasts?” “Oui!” Lyra said with renewed enthusiasm. “And some orange juice in this, please.” She scrabbled in her saddlebag and brought out the gigantic plastic cup she had bought while out with Bon-Bon last week. Horte eyed the plastic straw distastefully but took the cup. “Anything for a, ahem, participant, mademoiselle.” He made to leave but stopped when Bon-Bon spoke again. “Wait, Horte, how did the job interview go?” “Job interview?” He blinked once. “Oh, yes. Not so good, I’m afraid.” He shook his head dolefully. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” “It is not so bad. Ponyville is a good place to be right now.” He smiled, which changed his appearance completely. He had a face whose neutral expression verged on a sneer, so when he smiled every single feature softened into a more pleasant version of itself. He gave a slight bow and departed. “Ooh, Bon-Bon!” Lyra squealed when he had gone. “He’s totally into you!” “No he isn’t,” Bon-Bon responded instantly. “He completely and totally is!” Lyra insisted. “Didn’t you think so, Minuette?” “Hmmf.” Minuette’s horn glowed; magic levitating a serviette and manipulating it into odd shapes in front of her. She was the picture of boredom, her usual friendly smile a thing of the past. “Whoa, you really aren’t a morning pony.” Lyra shook her head. Four ponies filed into the café, chatting amongst themselves. Lyra half rocketed out of her chair to save at them. The three adults ambled over while the small filly bounced about their legs chasing the dog that was also with them. “Long time no see, Applejack,” Lyra grinned. “Are you here to build up your strength for you can better accept losing later?” “Are you still yappin’ about that? You know we always beat you, Lyra. Just accept it.” “Never! I shall never accept defeat!” Lyra struck a melodramatic pose that lasted all off five seconds before she got the giggles. “Seriously, though, are you guys here for breakfast? You should totally join us.” “Reckon we might just, at that.” Applejack eyed her family and the small round table. “Or maybe we’ll sit on over there next to y’all. Apple Bloom, Winona, be careful, y’hear! You ain’t outdoors no more so quit runnin’ around.” Apple Bloom stopped gambolling and scrubbed at the dog’s ears instead. Winona’s hindquarters hit the floor, tongue lolled as she happily accepted the fuss. Her feathery tail beat a staccato rhythm that made Apple Bloom fuss her all the more. Horte reappeared carrying a tray on his upturned hoof. On it balanced two glasses of orange juice and Lyra’s monstrous cup. He set the tray down on the table and distributed the drinks, managing to give Lyra hers without wrinkling his nose. “Your breakfasts with be ready shortly, mademoiselles.” He turned to the Apples. “Can I help you? What is that animal doing in here! This is an eating establishment. We cannot be having dirty animals inside!” Apple Bloom raised her hoof from Winona’s head in shock. “Winona?” Winona’s hackles had raised and a low growl emanated from her throat. The usually well-behaved dog hunched over, staring intently at Horte. “Winona!” Applejack said sharply. Winona flattened her ears, looking at her with a whine. “I am afraid you will not be able to sit inside with that animal,” Horte crisply informed them. “We have a ‘no pets’ rule at Café Magnifique. It is for hygiene and the comfort of other diners.” “We understand,” Applejack replied. “We’ll sit outside, but could we order four breakfasts first?” Winona whined again. “Make that five.” Horte nodded, a brittle up and down motion of his chin as his gaze flicked around the dining room, taking in the reactions of the other ponies seated there. Most had not paid attention but a few were looking at him and even more stared disapproving at the Apples’ dog. “All righty then.” Applejack tossed her head and turned back for the door. “C’mon, y’all; let’s go grab us a table. See you later, Lyra, Bon-Bon, Minuette.” “You better believe it,” Lyra replied, sucking orange juice through her straw. “Get a pillow to sit on for after I kick your butt!” “Lyra, slow down!” “Can’t!” Lyra cantered down the street. “Why not?” Bon-Bon kept up easily but Minuette was already puffing. “We don’t want to miss anything!” “What would we miss?” Bon-Bon turned to the other unicorn. “Do you have any idea what she’s talking about?” Minuette shrugged. Lyra was headed for the park with all speed. “We’re going to be late! We’re going to be late! We’re going to be late!” she chanted anxiously. “Late for what? Lyra!” All three dashed into the park and skidded to a halt. “Late for THAT!” Lyra replied. A gigantic chair sat in the middle of a wide circle of ponies. Long poles were attached to its legs, running parallel with the ground so that four strong stallions could carry it around. The chair itself was a jumble of coloured ribbons, flowers, greenery, lace and trailing bits of fabric. It should have looked ugly but instead the riot of colour made it oddly pretty. Ponies kept coming forward to add their own contributions, like the chair was one giant communal collage. “The May Throne,” Minuette said dully. “Every year a pony rides around in it as May Queen.” “She wears a white gown and gets a tiara. Her duty is to officially say goodbye to Spring, welcome in Summer and begin the May Day celebrations.” Lyra danced from hoof to hoof. “And there are four Stallions of the Seasons to carry her in a mini parade! It’s really cool.” “How did I not know about any of this?” Bon-Bon said, watching as Granny Smith tottered over to hook an apple onto the chair. “Because you never want to get involved in this kind of thing,” Lyra replied blithely, absolutely no censure in her voice. “You always seem to be too busy.” Of course; there were only so many times you could excuse yourself from getting involved before ponies stopped asking you. Things in Ponyville happened to Bon-Bon. She rarely, if ever, made them happen. It was easier that way, or so she had always told herself. Now, however, she was left completely at sea in this ocean of happy celebrating, with no idea where the paddles even were, much less how to row through it. “So who’s the May Queen this year?” she asked. “Do you know in advance?” “Of course. The town council voted on it – ooh, look, there’s Mayor Mare! We’re just in time. C’mon.” Lyra headed for the crowd, nosing her way through the ponies and gesturing for Bon-Bon and Minuette to follow her. Minuette gestured. “After you.” Her tone could not have been any flatter or darker if it was an actual shadow on the ground. Beside the ornate chair, Mayor Mare held up a hoof for quiet. Nopony quite managed to stop talking. An aide ran up, carrying a microphone on a stand. He trailed a wire and fed it out from the loop over one foreleg, backing up to a portable generator on the far side of the crowd, on top of which sat a large speaker. A feedback screech heralded the socket ramming home, as did the faint shrieks from ponies with sensitive hearing. Bon-Bon stumbled at the pain but managed to keep her feet. “Mares and gentlecolts!” Mayor Mare boomed. It was odd, seeing her lips move in front of them but hearing her voice blare from several feet away. “Welcome, welcome, one and all. I hope you’re all feeling good and not too tired this morning?” The crowd cheered. One or two held up sealed coffee cups with Café Magnifique’s logo on the side. Bon-Bon had noticed the separate window serving hot drinks at the side of the café when they left but had not mentioned it. The last thing she needed was caffeine heightening her already sensitive senses and there was no way Lyra needed the extra energy. As for Minuette … well, death glares and sulky silences weren’t exactly conducive for making small-talk about beverages. Then again, maybe the early morning was making her extra grumpy and she could have used the buzz to improve her outlook, or at least make her less sullen. “Excellent!” Mayor Mare enthused. She was so animated she must have drunk a lot of coffee herself. “Well then, without further ado, I’ll give the floor to this year’s May Queen; a pony whom, I think you’ll all agree, has done a lot for Ponyville in the past year and fully embodies what we celebrate at this time of year: fresh ideas, a sunny outlook and oneness with the world. Mares and gentlecolts, I give you … Twilight Sparkle!” The crowd roared, everypony stamping at least some of their hooves. Bon-Bon stamped hers too as Twilight emerged from a ten set up behind the speaker and generator. A white unicorn trotted alongside her, fussing with the long dress Twilight had on. The hem was so long it trailed behind her, causing her to stumble once. When she came to a halt beside Mayor Mare, Bon-Bon could see that Rarity had also sewed delicate flowers in some gauzy fabric to the neckline, each petal perfectly cut to waft in even the slightest breeze, giving Twilight an otherworldly look, as if she had just stepped out of a storybook about fairies. Bon-Bon was reminded of Dinky’s fairy costume and had to admit that, while Dinky had been cute, Twilight’s was far more impressive. “Um, hello,” Twilight said into the microphone. When she cheer had died down she smiled awkwardly, rubbing one forehoof against the side of her other leg. “I just want to say thank you for this honour and I hope I’ll be a good, uh, May Queen. I only found out I was going to do this when I got back from Canterlot last night, so I also want to say a big thank you to my friend Rarity, for staying up late to finish this beautiful gown.” Rarity tossed her mane. If she had missed sleep, she didn’t show it. She positively shone in the applause. “Sit! Sit! Sit!” carolled the crowd. Twilight exchanged a look with Rarity, who nodded and gestured. Twilight went up to the decorated chair and gingerly sat, hind hooves just trailing the floor while her forehooves lay on the rests. From the cheer that went up, one might be forgiven for thinking she had done something far more complicated. “Now they’re going to crown her,” Lyra informed Bon-Bon. “Of course, they could have just used that big crown thingy she wore when she kicked Nightmare Moon and Discord’s tails.” She chuckled at her own joke. The side of the tent Twilight had come from moved, as if something had fallen against it. Spike, Twilight’s dragon assistant, hurried out to hold aside the flap. A few seconds later four stallions trooped out past him, heads held high. The last one shot Spike a grateful glance and mouthed his thanks before moving off. “Is that Noteworthy?” Bon-Bon asked of the last stallion. Lyra giggled. “It sure is.” Each of the stallions was decked out in a different costume that included a domino mask over their eyes. It took Bon-Bon a moment to realise they were each meant to represent a different season. Noteworthy, bejeweled in a jagged vest of white and shades of blue, was Winter. Snowflakes had been carefully crafted and stuck on around his mask. Bon-Bon could only think he had been chosen for his complementary coat colour, since his personality was anything but frosty. “He looks good,” said Lyra. “Aw, I was hoping Rarity would have put him in something awful and sequined. Where are my sequins?” She pouted but nopony could have found it believable. “We’ll have to find something else to make fun of, Minuette.” Minuette didn’t respond. She was far too busy watching Noteworthy walk over to the May Throne and kneel in a line. Only one of the stallions stayed on his feet. Bon-Bon squinted, recognising him from somewhere. It was hard to tell under his mask of trailing silk sunbeams. He went up to Twilight and placed a tiara made of flowers over her ears and horn. “Thanks.” She added in a whisper. “You did great, Caramel.” The stallion blushed and retreated into line. The moment he did so, all four got to their feet and took up positions at each end of the horizontal poles. With timing that bespoke lots of practise (and probably a lot of poles dropped on hooves), they hefted the entire throne into the air and balanced the poles onto their shoulders. Twilight wobbled only a little and managed to keep her smile throughout. Then again, if you could teleport yourself away from being dropped, you probably would be able to smile more. “Mares and gentlecolts!” Mayor Mare dashed back to the microphone. “The Stallions of the Seasons will now circle the town so our new May Queen can welcome in the Summer!” The four throne-bearers dutifully began to march, keeping their steps in time with each other so twilight wasn’t jostled too much. The crowd parted for them to pass through, some ponies throwing yet more flowers as they passed. “Wow, everypony’s really into this,” said Bon-Bon over the noise. The atmosphere was electric, especially for something so old-fashioned. Bon-Bon couldn’t imagine the citizens of Canterlot, Manehattan or Fillydelphia doing anything like this – or if they did, it certainly wouldn’t involve everypony in town. She felt like she had stepped back in time to an earlier, simpler age. “This isn’t even the good part,” Lyra told her. “Later there’ll be games and cook-outs and competitions and – whoa!” She stumbled sideways. “Watch it, Minuette!” Minuette waved feverishly as the throne passed them. Twilight was waving everywhere but the ponies beneath her kept their eyes fixed forward. Bon-Bon saw the Autumn stallion and instantly recognised his red coat and yellow mane, exactly the colour of trees during the Running of the Leaves. Big Macintosh was an excellent choice. He didn’t appear to be having any trouble carrying Twilight or keeping up with the quick steps of the other Stallions of the Seasons. Caramel was doing his best but his strained expression showed beneath his mask. He was clearly worried, since he was also clearly the youngest of the four. Bon-Bon wondered how he had been chosen – his clumsiness was renowned. “You’re doing great, little bro!” shouted a huge stallion several feet away. His coat, mane and tail were the exact same shade as Caramel’s and his flank bore an identical cutie mark of three interlocking horseshoes. He tried to pump his hoof as he whooped but couldn’t, since it was in a sling. “Couldn’t have done better – and I mean that!” Crème Brulee’s words had the desired effect. Caramel’s chest visibly swelled and he lifted his steps extra high. “Are we supposed to follow them?” Bon-Bon asked as the crowd fell into the gap left in their wake. “Uh-huh, once around the town and then back to here,” said Lyra. “While we’re gone the ponies in charge will get everything set up. When we get back it’ll be like magic!” Given that several unicorns were already levitating things out of the tent and off the backs of wagons, Bon-Bon didn’t doubt it. The trip around town was uneventful. When they arrived back at the park, however, a transformation really had taken place. “See! See! Didn’t I tell you?” Lyra crowed. Bon-Bon stared in wonder at the activities, tents, stalls and other things that had been assembled in their absence. Ponies who had been in the procession behind her propelled her forward as the Stallions of the Seasons came to a halt at the very spot where they had started. Mayor Mare was waiting for them, looking windswept but satisfied. Given her track record for being late with things, Bon-Bon wondered how many seconds there had been between the last stall going up and them all turning the corner. “Welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome!” Mayor Mare said with a slightly mad gleam in her eye. Her mane had a few pieces coming loose and her cravat was askew. “Welcome all! And a special welcome to you, May Queen.” “Oh!” Twilight laughed nervously. She was apparently not comfortable looking down on the mayor while talking to her. Nopony could ever accuse Twilight of having airs and graces, even if she was Princess Celestia’s special student. “Um, thank you, Miss Mayor.” “Going down now, missy,” said the Stallion of Spring, a white pony whose dark brown moustache bristled out from under his mask. His outfit was themed on a tree and his matching mane and tail had been threaded with leaves that flowed into his vest to resemble bark. The ingenuity of the outfits must have taken Rarity days to think up, design and then sew together. Judging by her expression, however, she was pleased with the result. She was at the front of the crowd where Bon-Bon could see her watching her friend disembark the throne. Twilight admirably masked her gratitude to be on solid ground again, turning to thank the four stallions who had carried her. She paused awkwardly when they all knelt before her like she really was royalty. “Oh,” she said again. “You really don’t need to do that.” “You’re the May Queen,” said Mayor Mare. “You represent the changeover from Spring to Summer, so today we really do need to treat you well. If the spirit of Summer finds out we didn’t treat his daughter well, the season might not choose to stay in Ponyville.” “But the seasons don’t work like that–” Twilight began to protest. “It’s tradition, missy,” the Stallion of Spring said towards the ground. “Symbolic, see? Don’t worry your pretty little head about it none. Time was, ponies really did believe each season had a spirit and they had to tempt them to stay.” “So this is just ritualistic?” Twilight asked, the hopefulness so prevalent in her tone she didn’t even sound miffed at the ‘pretty little head’ remark, as if her intellect couldn’t beat that of any other pony in Ponyville into the ground. “I can’t stop Summer from arriving if I get it wrong?” A ripple of laughter went through the crowd at her charming naiveté. “Nope,” said the Stallion of Autumn with a grin. “Oh, good.” Twilight practically wilted with relief. “So … what do I have to do?” “Look pretty!” shouted somepony from the back. “Check!” shouted someone else. More laughter rippled over the collected ponies. Bon-Bon felt a smile tugging at her own lips too. Mayor Mare gave a polite but short chuckle. “Well, May Queen, all you have to do at this point is throw your tiara into the air to officially open the May Day festival.” “That’s it?” “Well, you’ll have to officiate a few contests throughout the day but, mainly, yes.” Twilight’s horn glowed and the flower tiara levitated off her head. “Okay. Then I declare this May Day festival officially … open!” Using her magic, she threw it high into the air. A bolt of blue cannoned out of a nearby tree where it had been waiting, intercepting the tiara. One barrel-roll later, it landed back on Twilight’s head, partially obscuring one of her eyes. “Thanks, Rainbow Dash,” she called, setting it right. “No problem. I’m even faster than your magic.” Hovering above them, Rainbow Dash breathed on her hoof and shined it against her chest in mock-modesty. A mass of streamers and little fireworks exploded as if from nowhere, though the billowing tent flaps signalled her actual entrance. In the centre of the colourful explosion a hyperactive pink pony reared and bucked, twirling around excitedly. She circled her forehooves at the waiting crowd. “What’s everypony standing around for? Let’s get this party started!” “Pinkie!” Spike rushed out from the tent but Mayor Mare was already stamping out the small fire that had ignited when one of the fireworks sprayed embers on the hem. “My gown!” Rarity shrieked. Her cry, however, was lost in the hullabaloo as Ponyville surged forward to begin the festivities.