//------------------------------// // Let Them Eat Cake // Story: My Big Fat Griffon Wedding // by LunaJack //------------------------------// “Wow!” “Oui!” Cinnamon Roll sat at the table, a hot cup of spiced milk resting next to her hoof.  Gulliand leaned back in his chair opposite her, his feathers caked with flour and sweat, his own cup of milk beside him.  Tiredly, they surveyed the mountain of baked goods they had made that afternoon.  There were sugar cookies, cinnamon muffins, and Bundt cakes dripping with creamy strudel.  A pair of braided sweet breads had just been removed from the oven and were cooling in their respective pans. “Think we overdid it?” asked Cinnamon, taking a sip from her cup. Gulliand shrugged.  “Perhaps. Better safe than sorry, though.” The filly swallowed and set down her cup.  “We could send a cake up to your family.  I’m sure they’d like it.” Gulliand nodded.  “We can do that.” Cinnamon sighed.  “I wish I had some fruit to work with.  Those apples I saw in the market just ain’t up to snuff.” “Oui,” Gulliand agreed.  “I noticed the same thing with the vegetables.  I don’t believe I can make my Chicken Florentine like I planned.  Argh!” He rubbed his talons across his face in frustration.  “We may need to start growing our own fruits and vegetables so we can have a ready supply.” The filly grinned.  “You’re talkin’ my language.”  She reached across the table to lay a comforting hoof on his arm.  “Here’s an idea!  Why don’t you make chicken and dumplin's?  We got plenty of ingredients for that right here.” Gulliand nodded slowly.  “Yes.  I could do that,” he said without enthusiasm. Cinnamon Roll chuckled at the slightly disgusted look on his face.  “There’s nothing wrong with dumplin's, Sugar Cube,” she said.  “My family makes ‘em all the time.” Gulliand blushed.  “I’m sorry, Cherie!  It’s just that I wanted to impress these griffons with fine cuisine.  Dumplings are just so…pedestrian.” The filly gave his arm a playful punch.  “You’re diggin’ yourself a hole, mister!” “You know what I mean!” “I do.” Any further discussion was cut short as both let out a tremendous yawn.  Reluctantly, they rose from their seats. Cinnamon Roll covered the baked goods with wax paper while Gulliand washed the last of the pans and bowls in the sink.  Once they were done they each took a quick shower in the house’s small bathroom and retired to their respective rooms for the evening.  Despite her exhaustion, Cinnamon Roll couldn’t help but feel excited about the next day!  Griffons would finally get a taste of what they could do and, hopefully, it would raise interest in their restaurant! Oh, Sweet Celestia, she prayed.  I hope it goes well. Cinnamon woke up to the rich smell of fresh coffee and the slightly sulfuric scent of boiling chicken.  Yawning, she rolled out of bed and unlocked the pantry door.  Gulliand stood at the stove, carefully stirring the contents of a large bubbling pot.   “Mornin’,” said Cinnamon Roll. “Good morning, Cherie,” Gulliand replied happily.  He set down his spoon and gave her a warm hug.  “Would you like some coffee?” “I’d love some.”  She watched as he gaily snatched up her cup and filled it to the brim.  He added the sugar and milk just as he knew she liked it and handed it to her.  “Thanks, Sugar Cube.” “De rien!” She took a sip and felt her fur stand on end.  “Whoo!  That’s strong!” “I know.  I had to have it strong so I could wake up enough to cook this chicken properly,” replied Gulliand, giving the pot another stir.  “I am not used to getting up this early.” “Well, this’ll sure keep you up.” Cinnamon took another tentative sip and winced.  “I ain’t felt a buzz like that since we tried that Pinto Cubana coffee at Calle Ocho in Little Canterlot.” “Nothing is stronger than Pinto Cubana.” The griffon took a swig of his own cup and smacked his beak thoughtfully.  “But this does give it a run for its money.” KNOCK! KNOCK!  KNOCK! Both startled at the loud knocking on the front door. “I’ll get it,” said Cinnamon, going to the door.  She opened the little peephole and peeked out.  “Hello?” “HI!” Cinnamon Roll barely flinched as Gabby’s turquoise eye appeared in the little window.  “Good morning, Gabby!” she said, letting the griffoness in.  “It’s good to see you again.” “Same here!” Gabby stepped inside and engulfed the little filly in a big hug.  “Good morning to you, too, Mr. LeGrand!” she added to Gulliand. “Please, just Gulliand is fine.” “What brings you here this morning?” asked Cinnamon.  “Don’t tell me I have another package from home.” Gabby shook her head.  “No,  I was just up early and saw your light was on so I thought I would visit. MMMMMM!” The griffoness sniffed the air.  “I smell chicken boiling!  Are you making soup?” “Dumplings,” replied Gulliand.  “Chicken and dumplings.”   “Really?” the griffoness’ eyes lit up.  “That sounds amazing!  I haven’t had chicken and dumplings since I was a fledgling!  Are you selling that in the market today?” “That’s the plan.  Cinnamon Roll will be selling her baked goods while I dish out the dumplings.” Gabby gasped.  “I heard about that from Gayla!  She said you were planning on making some pastries to sell!” “Who is Gayla?” “The milk and dairy vendor.  She’s been telling everyone about it.” “Ah, free advertising!” said Gulliand grinning.  “Hopefully, that means we’ll have a crowd.” “Would you like a muffin?” Cinnamon asked Gabby.  “We have plenty.” “Sure!  If you don’t mind.  I mean, I would hate to cut into your sales…” “It’s on the house,” replied Gulliand, fetching a muffin from the pile in the kitchen.  “A reward for helping us find good vendors.” The griffoness blushed at the praise.  She bit into the muffin, her eyes rolling back in her head in bliss.  “Sooooooo goooooood!” “I’m glad you like it,” said Cinnamon Roll, grinning.  “We baked a whole lotta stuff yesterday.  Cookies, muffins, sweet bread, Bundt cakes with strudel…” “What cakes?” asked Gabby, frowning. “Bundt cakes.” “Bump cakes?” “No, Bundt cakes.” “Burnt cakes?” “No, BUNDT! B-U-N-D-T!” “This!” said Gulliand, placing one of the cakes in front of the confused griffoness.   “Oh, I see!” said Gabby, nodding in understanding.  “It’s a pretty cake.  But…um,” she cocked her head quizzically.  “Is there supposed to be a hole in it?” Cinnamon Roll tried not to laugh.  “Yes.  That’s how the pan’s shaped.” “Why?” “I dunno,” the filly shrugged.  “The Germanes are the ones who came up with it.  I guess it’s because the cake cooks faster this way.” “Wow!  You learn something new every day!  How much will you be charging for the pastries and dumplings?” “Half a bit for the pastries,” answered Gulliand.  “One bit per serving of dumplings.” “Oh, that’s PERFECT!” Gabby squealed,  pressing her balled-up talons against her chin until her cheek feathers fluffed out.  “I can afford that! Be sure to save a bowl for me!” “We will,” Cinnamon promised.   “BOWL?” said Gulliand suddenly.  The girls looked at him questioningly as his beak fell open in dismay. “SACRE BLEU CHEESE!  How could I have forgotten?” “Forgotten what, Sugar Cube?” “BOWLS!  DISHES!  UTENSILS!  Cherie, we have nothing in which to serve the dumplings!” “Oh, shoot!  I didn’t think about that!” cried Cinnamon.  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “Okay!  Okay!  Um…maybe the customers could bring their own bowls from home and we could fill them up?” “I dunno,” said Gabby, doubtfully.  “I know a few griffs who would show up with a mixing bowl and insist that’s one serving.  It would be better if you had your own stuff.” “Maybe Miss Guinevere will let us borrow some of her’s,” suggested Cinnamon hopefully. Gulliand shook his head.  “Mother’s china is very fine and expensive.  Even if she let us use it, there is a good chance some of the customers would make off with them.” The little filly sighed.  “Well, I guess we’ll just have to buy some dishes.  Maybe someone sells them–” “Graysons!” cried Gabby.  The two looked quizzically at the young griffoness.  “Graysons makes and sells pottery!  They have dishes, plates, platters, you name it!  They’re pretty cheap, too.” “What time do they open?” asked Cinnamon Roll. “It’ll be a couple of hours before the shop opens but they should be in their studio now.  They’re the only griffs I know besides me who are early risers.” Cinnamon turned to Gulliand who leaped up to fetch the bits.  He returned quickly and handed the purse over to Cinnamon Roll.  “Get at least twenty bowls, if you can,” he said.  “If you can buy spoons while you’re out, do that, too.  Unless…” he skewed his beak doubtfully. “You would prefer I go and you stay…” Cinnamon Roll shook her head as she took the bag of bits and dropped it into her satchel.  “No, Sugar Cube.  You need to stay here and tend to the chicken.  I’ll be alright.  Gabby will be with me.” Gulliand conceded and gave her a kiss before seeing her off.  Gabby quickly led her through the streets.  Everything was quiet except for a few vendors who were stocking their stalls.  One griffon dropped a metal pot that clanged loudly.  The other vendors glared at the offender but there was no yelling or bickering.  No one wanted to disturb the quiet of the morning. “This way,” said Gabby, leading Cinnamon down the road that led to the sawmill.  “The studio is down here on the left.” The studio was a rectangular shaped building made of gray bricks with large arch shaped windows that let in the morning light.  Two large kilns shaped like giant onions sat in an enclosed yard next to it.  A griffon wearing a thick pair of mitts on his talons pulled a rack of finished pottery from the closest one. Gabby led Cinnamon into the studio.  Four griffons sat at potter’s wheels busily shaping clay into different things.  The little filly watched in fascination as the nearest potter deftly shaped the clay with his talons, making it rise like a tower then widen like a blossoming flower.  It was almost like watching her Aunt Rarity creating a dress with her magic.   “Excuse me!” yelled Gabby, breaking Cinnamon’s trance.  “You got a customer!” The griffon didn’t look up from his work.  “Shop’s not open yet,” he shouted back.  “Come back in two hours.” “The customer can’t wait that long!  You got anything she can get now?” The potter cursed under his breath.  “Yes, dammit!  Wait a minute!”  He turned to a griffon who was stacking some finished plates.  “Hey, Go-Go!  Help this customer, will ya?” “Yeah, sure.” The griffon carefully put down the plates and walked over to Cinnamon and Gabby.  He was not tall but was round and plump with green feathers and white fur.  What struck Cinnamon was the shape of his face.  It was round like an owl with two green almond-shaped eyes placed far apart.  He also appeared to be smiling, a very rare thing among griffons. “Hi!  Whatcha want?” he asked cheerfully. “Hi, Go-Go!” Gabby replied just as happily.  “My friend here needs some bowls.  You got any in stock?” Go-Go nodded.  “We got lotsa bowls.” He looked at Cinnamon Roll and his smile seemed to get bigger.  “You’re a pony!” he exclaimed in delight. Cinnamon smiled.  “Yes, I am.” “You’re a pretty pony,” he added. The filly blushed. “Thank you.” “Come on, ya idiot!  Quit flirting with the clients and get ‘em what they want!” the potter yelled irritably.   Cinnamon glared at the speaker as Go-Go winced at the insult, his smile faltering for a moment.  “This way,” he mumbled, leading the girls into a room full of finished dishware.   “Oh, my!” gasped Cinnamon as she perused the different dishes.  Some of them were fine and fancy with painted patterns of leaves or snow-capped mountains.  Others were plain and sturdy with a single band of color around the rim.  The filly gazed longingly at the pretty dishes, especially one set that had a pattern of trees around the perimeter.  “How much are the dishes?” she asked. Go-Go pointed to the set she was admiring.  “That’s seventy-five bits for a full set of four,” he said.  “That’s the plates and the bowls together.” The filly winced.  “I need twenty bowls.  What’s the cheapest you got?” Go-Go led them to a stack of plain white bowls without any decoration.  Cinnamon picked one up and examined it.  It was sturdy and well made.  “How much?” she asked. “Five bits for a set of four.  You need twenty so that makes…” Go-Go held up his talons and counted.  Though she already knew the answer, the little filly stayed quiet and let him calculate. “Twenty-five bits!” Cinnamon nodded.  “That sounds right.” She counted twenty-six bits and gave them to the owl-faced griffon.  He frowned slightly. “Twenty-five bits,” he said, holding out the extra bit to her. “Keep it,” said Cinnamon, pushing the coin back to him.  “It’s a tip for good service.” Go-Go looked confused and a little afraid.  Luckily, Gabby came to his rescue. “It’s a pony thing,” she assured him.  “She wants you to keep it.” “Oh!” The griffon’s smile widened.  “Thank you!” Go-Go carefully loaded the bowls into a box and helped set it on Cinnamon’s back.   He waved happily as the friends went their way. “He’s a sweet fella,” said Cinnamon Roll, giving a wave back.   “Yeah,” said Gabby, shaking her head sadly.  “I’m glad you were so nice to him.  Some griffs have tried to take advantage of him.” “What’s wrong with him?” asked Cinnamon. “He has Owl’s Syndrome.  It’s a birth defect that affects griffons.  It gives the face a very owl-like appearance, hence the name.  Griffs who have it tend to be smaller, weaker, and have learning disabilities.  Because of that, they tend to be shunned or sent away.  Go-Go’s lucky, though.  He has family to support him.” “Humph!” said Cinnamon, remembering the insult the potter griffon had given Go-Go.  “I don’t think calling someone an idiot is very supportive.” Gabby giggled. “Oh, that’s just how they talk to each other.  Believe me, you wouldn’t want to see what happens to griffons who try to hurt Go-Go. So, where to now?” she asked.  “You have to get spoons, don’t you?” Gabby led her to a stall with a large display of carved wooden utensils.  The vendor was cross because he wasn’t quite ready, but was happy to sell twenty spoons for two bits.  Once they were done, they hurried back to the house.  Gulliand was removing the chickens from the pot as they walked in. “Any luck?” “Yes.  Twenty bowls and wooden spoons.  Twenty-seven bits.” “Not bad,” he nodded in approval. “I better get going,” said Gabby, glancing out the window.  “I gotta make my rounds and pick up a few things.  Good luck selling your food!  And remember to save me a bowl!” “We will!  And thanks for your help, Gabby!” “No problem!” The little griffoness saluted then took off out the door. The next few hours seemed to fly by as the couple worked to get everything ready.  Cinnamon Roll washed the bowls and spoons and placed them in a basket to carry to their booth, while Gulliand carefully piled the pastries onto a cloth-covered tray.  Using his status as a LeGrand, he had managed to get them a stall near one of the busier sections of the market.  An hour before noon, the two carried their goods to the market: the griffon carrying the large pot in his talons and the little filly carrying the tray of pastries on her back.   “Are you sure you’re alright, carrying that heavy tray?” Gulliand asked, not for the first time.  “I know it is difficult to balance.” Cinnamon rolled her eyes.  “I’m an Earth pony, Sugar Cube.  I can handle it!  You need both talons to carry that big old pot.  Besides, I think we reached our booth.” The stall was a square space that sat on the corner of two avenues.  Two wooden planks that served as counters formed one corner of the square while two gray, wooden walls separated the stall from its neighbors.  Gulliand set down his heavy pot on one counter while Cinnamon set up shop on the other one.  The filly spread a bed sheet over the  counter then spread out her wares on it.  The griffon set up the bowls and spoons along with a deep dish pan to collect the dirty dishes.  A crowd of curious griffons were already lining up to see what the strange couple was offering. “Chicken and dumplin’s!  Come get your chicken and dumplin’s right here!” called Cinnamon Roll in her best vendor voice.  “Hot off the stove, fresh dumplin’s!  Pastries!  Muffins!  Cookies!  Sweet bread!  Half a bit for the sweets!” The griffons eyed the pastries dubiously, but willingly lined up for the dumplings.  Soon, all twenty bowls had been used, and twelve had been put in the dirty dish pan.  Cinnamon ran the dishes to the house to clean them.  When she returned to the stall, another stack of dirty bowls and spoons awaited her. “I’m sorry, Cherie,” said Gulliand over his shoulder as he served another bowl.  “I was so anxious to get started I forgot we would need a dishwasher!  Is there any way you could set up a washing station here, so you do not need to run back and forth?” “I don’t have enough dishpans to set up a wash and rinse,” Cinnamon called back.  “I should have bought more bowls!” Suddenly, she noticed a griffon eyeing a muffin.  “Hello, can I help you?” The griffon jumped back, startled by her voice.  He was younger than Gigi and Gidget, with blue feathers and matching fur.  Three blue feathers with golden tips formed his crest.  His blue eyes were wide in fear. “I-I wasn’t doing nothin’!” he exclaimed.  “I was just lookin’!” “That’s okay, you can look,” said Cinnamon soothingly.   The blue griffon tentatively crept closer, his eyes fixed warily on Cinnamon.  “What-what is this stuff?” he asked. “Those are muffins,” said the filly, pointing to the pastry he had been eyeing.  “My sister-in-law gave me her recipe.  These over here are sugar cookies.  These are braided sweet breads.  I can cut those up for you, if you like.  And these are Bundt cakes.” The griffon cocked his head curiously. “Bun cakes?” “Bundt cakes.” “Bump cakes?” “No, Bu– Oh, never mind!  They’re cakes with a hole in them.” The clinking sound of a bowl going into the dishpan made Cinnamon Roll turn around.  The pile was getting higher and Gulliand was down to four clean bowls.  Frustrated, she gathered the dirty dishes for another run back to the house.  How can I concentrate on selling my baked stuff if I gotta keep washing the dishes? she groused to herself.  She glanced at the blue griffon and saw him looking longingly at the muffins.  Despite her frustration, she managed to smile kindly. “Would you like to buy one?  They’re half a bit each.” “I-I don’t have any bits,” the blue griffon stammered, hunching his shoulders as if he expected her to strike him.  “I-I can work for you, though.  Whatever you need done, I can do it!” “Oh, that’s not necessary,” said Cinnamon, shaking her head.  “You can ha–” “Please!” the griffon threw himself to his knees in front of her.  His eyes stared up at her pleadingly.  “I know I’m kinda small, but I can work!  I don’t mind!  I’ve worked for a lot of vendors before!” Cinnamon Roll bit her lip.  She wanted to tell him he could have a muffin free of charge but she remembered how suspicious griffons were of free things.  She looked at the pile of dirty dishes and an idea came to her. “Can you wash dishes?” she asked. The griffon seemed surprised.  “Uh, yeah.  I can do that.”  He regarded her suspiciously.  “Are you seriously giving me a job or are you just asking me so I’ll get lost?” “I’m serious,” said Cinnamon Roll, laying down the dirty dishes in front of him.  “We need all the help we can get.  I can’t wash dishes and sell my pastries at the same time so you’d be doin’ me a big favor.” “And you promise you’ll let me have a muffin when I’m done.” The filly’s heart melted at the plaintive look on his face as he asked this.  “Yes,” she assured him. “I promise you will have something to eat, Sugar Cube.” The griffon nodded.  “Okay, then.  Show me what to do.” Cinnamon Roll escorted him to the house and showed him what needed to be done.  On top of washing the dishes, he had to bring the clean ones to the booth and take the dirty ones back to be cleaned.  The little filly returned to work where she found a small crowd of customers who, having eaten lunch, were now looking for dessert.  The sugar cookies went fast, as did the bread and the muffins, though she held one back for the little griffon.  The Bundt cakes did not sell at all and Cinnamon became tired of being asked where the middle of the cakes went. “Hey, guys!  How’s it going?” Cinnamon Roll smiled.  “Hey, Gabby.  It’s goin’ purty well.  Everything’s sellin’ except for the Bundt cakes.”  She turned to Gulliand.  “How are you doin’ with the dumplings, Sugar Cube?” “I am getting low, but I have more than enough for you, Gabby,” he answered, happily.  He handed her a steaming bowlful.  The little griffoness’ eyes rolled up in delight as she breathed in the delicious aroma. “Ooooooooohhhhhhhhh!  I have been waiting for this moment all morning!  Thank you!”  She slapped a bit down on the counter.  “I’ll be back for one of those cakes!” she called over her shoulder as she walked away. Cinnamon Roll stared ruefully down at her cakes.  She wondered if she should just slice them up and sell them that way.  When the blue griffon returned with the clean dishes, she asked him to bring her a knife.  He came back shortly with a long bread knife. “Ya gonna cut ‘em up?” he asked as she pulled one to her. “Might as well.  They sure ain’t sellin’ like this.” “I kinda like ‘em,” he said.  “They kinda remind me of a little nest.” Cinnamon stopped and stared down at the Bundt cakes as if seeing them for the first time.  They did have a nest-like shape, she admitted, and the strudel she had drizzled over them did resemble strings and straw.  “Yeah, they do.  I hadn’t noticed before you said that.  Oh!” The filly’s face lit up as an idea came to her.  “I think I know what I’m gonna do with these next time!  Thanks a lot!” “Uh, you’re welcome?” said the little griffon, giving her an odd look.  He gathered up the dirty dishes and headed back to the house.  Cinnamon stared thoughtfully at the cakes, imagining what she could do with them. “I’m back for a cake!” Gabby laid down her half bit and picked up the cake Cinnamon had been studying.  She broke off a piece with her talon and popped it into her beak.   “Mmmm!” her face shone in delight.  “This is so good!” “Thanks, Gabby.  I’m glad somebody likes it.” “Oh, give ‘em time.  They’ll come around!” Gabby wrapped the cake in brown paper and carefully laid it in her satchel.  “You two make some great food!  That chicken and dumplings was amazing!  By the way, I couldn’t help noticing Gallus giving you a hand with the dishes.  It’s really nice of you, giving him a job like that.”   “Gallus?” Cinnamon Roll slapped her forehead with a hoof.  “I can’t believe I was so rude to not ask him his name!  Yeah, he came around lookin’ at the muffins and begged me for a job.  We needed a dishwasher, so that’s how he got that.  He’s done a good job so far.” “He’s a good kid,” said Gabby.  “A little sarcastic sometimes, but most griffs are.  He does odd jobs around town to get food.  He’s helped me with deliveries a few times.  I’d give him more work, but I can’t afford to pay him.”  “Where are his parents?”  “Gone.” Gabby shook her head sadly.  “His mother died of Grover Pox when he was little.  His father drank himself to death a few years later.  The kid’s been on his own since he was ten.” Cinnamon was shocked.  “Doesn’t he have any family?  Any grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins?” The griffoness shook her head again.  “Nope, not a one.  His mother was an only chick and his father was the only member of his family to survive a house fire.  Grandpa Gruff made some inquiries but he’s come up with nothing.” “Sweet Celestia!” gasped Cinnamon Roll.  She was just a baby when her mother died.  Luckily, she had her brother Cinnamon Stick looking out for her, and the ponies at the orphanage had been kind.  When Applejack and Spike adopted them, they had become members of the massive Apple clan with more relatives than they could have dreamed.  She just couldn’t comprehend the idea of this young griffon making it on his own.   “I got some clean dishes,” called Gallus, laying down his load next to Cinnamon.  “Looks like there’s no more dirty dishes, so I guess you’re done for the day.”  He glanced over at Gabby and waved.  “Hey, Gabs!” “Hey, Gallus!” the griffoness waved back.  “I need to get back to work,” she added to Cinnamon.  “I’ll see you later.  Good luck!” “Thanks!” Gallus cleared his throat and pointedly held out his talon.  “I believe I earned a muffin?” Cinnamon smiled.  “Oh, you earned more than that,” she said, laying three bits onto his upturned palm.  The blue griffon froze and his face melted into a frown. “Those are the weirdest looking muffins I’ve ever seen,” he snarked. “It’s payment for your washing the dishes,” replied the filly.  She handed him the held-back muffin.  “You did a great job.” “Thanks,” said Gallus, though he did not sound thankful.  He held the muffin to himself but thrust the coins back to the filly.  “But I don’t take charity.” “It’s a pony thing,” she replied, recalling Gulliand and Gabby’s explanations. The little griffon snarled.  “Well, here’s a griffon thing!” He slammed the bits onto the plank counter hard enough to make the leftover cakes go airborne for a moment.  “I don’t take charity!” Cinnamon’s temper welled up. “Why you–!” “CHERIE!” Gulliand’s voice cracked like a whip, rendering the little filly speechless.  He strode forward, pulling himself up to his full height so he towered over the two. “He said he does not accept charity,” he said in a calm but firm voice.  He turned to Gallus.  “Thank you for your help, today.  We are planning on returning to the market in a few days.  We could use your help.” Gallus nodded.  “Okay.” “We will pay you in bits,” Gulliand continued.  “Three bits an hour with a meal included.  Is that acceptable to you?” The little griffon’s eyes lit up.  “Yeah!  That’s fine by me!” “Good.  Come by our house the day after tomorrow and we will go from there.” “Cool!  I’ll be there!” “Oh, and take one of those cakes with you.  It will save us from carting it back to the house.” “Okay!” Gallus grabbed up the nearest Bundt cake then took off, disappearing into the market crowd. “Are you all right, Cherie?” asked Gulliand, gently laying a talon on the little filly’s shoulder.  Cinnamon Roll looked up at her fiance.  His golden eyes stared down at her kindly.  “I know I must have frightened you just then.” Cinnamon hung her head.  “I deserved it,” she said.  “I insulted the poor boy.” “You meant well, Cherie.  Griffons love bits, but we value our pride even more.” Cinnamon pressed her head into his fluffy chest.  “Let’s go home.”