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// The Honorable Thing 
// Story: The Rustic and The Romantic 
// by TheLastBrunnenG 
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Ponies young and old began to filter away from the town square with sticky lips and sticky hooves. A thick scent of cake, cobbler, and icing turned the clear afternoon breeze into a cloying vapor of sugar and too-rich sweets. Pegasi unhooked and furled a worn “Annual Ponyville Bake-Off”  banner while teams of ponies swept the streets, collected stray plates and wrappers, and recycled everything not nailed down with Librarian-led efficiency.

From behind an empty table a couple with matching Sugarcube Corner aprons packed away a few empty boxes. “Oh, Carrot, hon, the new Springtime Surprise cake was a hit, dontcha know! We put enough time into it, and look at what we got - cakes flying off the table, not a sample left in sight, and orders backed up into next week.”

“Cup Cake, sweetie, it was your double-butter, double-cream icing that sealed the deal!” Lifting a gleaming golden trophy, the yellow stallion leaned across to drop a kiss on his wife’s cheek. “Second place is fine by me! If we’d won first, we’d never have been able to keep up with orders anyway.”  They quickly filled a small cart and cantered across the square, smiling, hoof in hoof.

Across the street a mountain  of discarded cupcake wrappers exploded in a flash of crumbs and blinding pinkness, sending a small golden plaque tumbling into the sky. “Wheeeee!” Grabbing an unsuspecting and somewhat mortified passing pony, Pinkie Pie erupted into a frantic jig. “Oh, third place is the bestest place for me, for me! Chocolate Coated Chocolate Bombs whoopee, whoopee!” Pausing mid-air, she put a hoof to her chin while her unwilling song-and-dance partner scrambled madly to escape the scene. “But how will I fill all the orders I got for the Chocolate Coated Chocolate Bombs? The Cakes will be using all their ovens full-time for their own super-duper-riffic new Springtime Surprise cakes, and that never made sense, I mean, how do they keep from turning into cannibals? Wouldn’t it be all like, ‘Cake, put the Cake into the oven,’ said Cake, ‘while I go check to see if our little Cakes got into the Cakes’?” Dropping to the ground to the sound of applause from Physics, the pink baker’s eyes popped wide. “I know! I can’t install more ovens, so I can just install more Cakes!” Skipping off down the lane toward Golden Oaks Library, she grinned merrily and continued, “Now, if I can get Twilight to unseal the Mirror Pool and convince Carrot Cake and Cup Cake to clone themselves, then all our problems will be solved! Noting bad could possibly come from more Cakes, right?”

A few stalls away an orange pony sat alone, staring at an overflowing table. Stacks of apple pies and piles of apple cobbler competed for space with trays of caramel apples and plate after plate of apple fritters. Confections once steaming hot and flaky now sat lukewarm and drooping under a cloud-covered afternoon sun. Under a small glass dome sat the centerpiece, an apple-and-cheese tart, whole save for a few tiny samples taken. It looked diminutive and lonely under the wavy distortions of the glass. A small blue ribbon was taped to the dome and fluttered gently in a passing breeze.

Applejack sat frozen, staring into the wavy depths of the glass, or perhaps beyond it, as if willing the tart to come to life and speak its piece. Her eyes turned glassy and unfocused, strands of straw-blonde mane cascading unnoticed across her muzzle. Many agonizing and silent minutes later a glow of magic began to lift plates and trays, boxes and crates, packing them away expertly and noiselessly. The table was folded and packed, banners and canopy tucked away, and all that remained was the orange mare sitting on her haunches, drooping and defeated.

Rarity lay a hoof across the farmer’s shoulder. “Applejack, my dear, there were over forty bakers in attendance here today. Achieving an Honorable Mention is certainly no small feat.”

“Guess I better get used to it, sugar.” Applejack’s ears wilted and her eyes stared down at her dusty hooves. “This ain’t the first time, an’ it’s gettin’ to be a right regular showin’ for me.”

The seamstress snorted daintily. “Nonsense! You are a superb baker, absolutely the finest apple connoisseur in Ponyville, and you should not denigrate yourself so.”

Slowly the orange pony shook her head, her voice low. “When Discord had his way with all o’ us, which one o’ the girls was first to lose her marbles? Good ol’ honest AJ, that’s who. And when Ponyville needed bits, who’d they trust to win the Rodeo? Same pony who lost out an’ brought home nothin’ - me. An’ did the toughest, strongest mare in Ponyville win the Iron Pony competition or the Runnin’ o’ the Leaves?” She pulled her hat low, its brim now stained with more than sweat. “I cain’t go home with some stinkin’ ribbon, Rares. What’ll everypony think?”

“They’ll think what I do, love.” Rarity lay her head on Applejack’s mane, closing her eyes to whisper. “Among many things, many wonderful things, my Applejack, you are a superb baker. And you’re the best thing that has ever happened to this foolish and over-dramatic dressmaker. In my humble estimation, that makes you the best, my dear baker AJ.” She sighed and pulled the farmer closer. “Whether or not you are the best baker in Ponyville, Applejack, you will always be the best baker for me.”