Clyde the Woodcutter
Once upon a time in a vast forest lived an eminently sensible earth pony named Clyde, who made a living cutting wood.
One day, Clyde passed by a pond. As he was sure-footed and always kept his humble bronze ax properly fastened in its holder, he walked right past without incident. Suddenly, a voice called out from behind:
“Thank the stars!”
Clyde turned to find a seapony popping its head out of the pond.
“May I help you?” asked Clyde.
“I just wanted to say how eternally grateful I am that somepony walked by my humble pond without fumbling their junk into the water,” the seapony huffed. “In gratitude for your prudence, I grant you everything that has ever fallen in.”
She wiggled her fins and suddenly a multitude of axes appeared before Clyde: some bronze, others stone, and there were even a few wooden ones. He stared for a moment, blinked, and stared again.
“I’m not a rubbish pony,” he stated.
The seapony’s smile strained. “I’ll turn your ax to gold if you just get rid of it all for me.”
“How can I cut wood with a golden ax?” Clyde asked.
“Platinum?” the seapony pleaded.
“How about you turn the junk to gold?” Clyde suggested.
“Oh. OH! Shoo-be-doo-be-doo!” The seapony fluttered her fins, and the whole pile turned to gold.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” Clyde said, scooping up the loot.
Moral of the story: Be patient with fairytale creatures: there’s no qualifying exam.