The course of friendship is like the course of a thread; it's a bit loopy, it meanders all the time, and it can get terribly tangled up at the wrong moment. However, in skilled hooves the result is beautiful and inspiring. A treasure beyond treasure.
When they were younger, Rarity and Cheerilee joined the Ponyville Knitters League: Rarity to keep her skills going, Cheerilee to find her cutie mark. Well, that and it's the done thing when you're an aspiring fashionista.
However, both have to question their attitudes when the President of the League announces a contest. After all, one should have a purpose already, and one is still looking for theirs.
Rarity had just gotten her cutie mark. Only now was it dawning on her that she’d bought a one-way ticket for life.
What should have happened – she was sure, as she sat up to her sewing machine and idly fed the cotton sleeve through – was a flash of insight, a flash of light on her flank, and an ever-blazing joy at finally having her life’s calling revealed to her.
Well, the flashes had done their part. It was the ever-blazing joy that was giving her trouble.
Three diamonds shone on her haunches, and she stopped to look at them again. Obviously, the diamonds matched the gemstones she’d found in the geode. Jewellery, she’d decided, was where her full potential lay. And if she thought more broadly, then beauty and refinery featured in there too. The teacher had explained to her the subtler points of cutie mark symbolism.
No, she thought angrily, and she pressed down harder on the sleeves and clenched her jaw. This is a match made in heaven. Stop worrying about it.
She got as far as sewing the sleeve to the main body of the dress before the question ambushed her.
What if I got it too soon? Maybe cutie marks are just the best thing that first comes along. And if something better comes along later…
I don’t know what, exactly, but still…
Someone knocked at the door of her studio. Rarity groaned.
“Come in!” she said without looking round. The hinges creaked. She made a mental note to oil them later.
“Rarity!” said a voice brimming with cheer. “I can’t tell you how wonderful those costumes were last night! Mom said I was the prettiest little thing on the stage, and I have you to thank for it!”
Inwardly, Rarity giggled with glee. Outwardly, she allowed herself a delicate Canterlot smile, which she’d practised in a mirror to get the twitch just right.
“One is glad you think so,” she said. “One endeavours to give satisfaction.”
“You’re so graceful, too! Between your artistry and your manners, you’ll fit right in at Canterlot one day. I’m sure of it.”
Rarity switched off the sewing machine and swung round on her chair, trying not to swell too much. “Thank you! Most generous of you to say so.”
Approaching at an easygoing pace, Cheerilee beamed at her. Oh, her mane was all frumpy, and she couldn’t pick out a decent dress to save her life – to this day, Rarity still had no idea if the costume last night had been a pineapple, a dandelion, or a bunch of bananas – but somehow, looking at the shine in those wide eyes and at the twinkle of braces in that smile made such issues… well, like a mere speck of lint compared to the bright white gown of the whole.
Rarity’s keen eye did notice, however, a flicker in those eyes towards her own three-diamond cutie mark. Cheerilee’s haunches were blank.
There was a certain hungry look in that flicker…
“So,” said Rarity as Cheerilee stopped and stood a little closer than she personally was comfortable with – Rarity shuffled back on her seat and had to tilt her head down to keep eye contact – “what can I do for you? A nicer dress this time?”
Instantly, she clapped a hoof over her own mouth; Cheerilee’s brow twitched towards a frown.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with… your style of, um…”
The brace-filled smile returned. “That’s quite all right. I know your standards are closer to Canterlot’s than mine are. Besides, I’m flattered you take the time out to care. You mean well.”
Squirming in her seat, Rarity turned her chair slightly to the left so she wasn’t facing Cheerilee directly. Somehow, this seemed less confrontational. In any case, the guidebook on Canterlot etiquette had been clear on the subject.
“Actually,” continued Cheerilee, “I was hoping to do something for you. After that lovely gift last night –”
“Oh, come now. You don’t have to do anything. It was a gift.”
“I thought you might like to see this.”
Only now did Rarity notice the saddlebags Cheerilee was wearing. She watched as her classmate rummaged around in them – Muzzle-first! she thought with a twinge of disgust – and came up unfurling a flyer. Rarity tried not to cringe at the flecks of spittle on it.
She squinted. “Ponyville Knitters League?”
Cheerilee dropped the flyer. “They teach all kinds of useful techniques, and you get to meet like-minded ponies all willing to help each other. I saw this and I thought it’d be right up your alley!”
“Hmmm. It’s certainly in my particular district, I’ll give you that.” Ha. Rustic knitting? How quaint. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to pick up… one or two tricks…”
“Great! I’ll see you there! Incidentally, I was wondering if you could patch up one or two items for me.”
“Gladly.” I’ll walk all over those knitters. You’ll see.
When Cheerilee rummaged through her saddlebags again, Rarity couldn’t help noticing the hopeful glance towards the haunches, and the slight droop of her friend’s ears.
Unfortunately, it was off to a bad start. One: they were sitting in the living room of the League President’s cottage, which struck Rarity as a cheap choice. Even if the sofa and hanging lights were rather elegant…
Anyway, two: she was sitting in what could laughably be called a circle, but which consisted of four other foals. Cheerilee sat next to her and said hello to everyone.
On the sofa opposite, Big Mac the farmer shuffled uncomfortably. He was the only colt there, and stared at the carpet hoping not to catch anyone’s eye. Next to him sat a cross-eyed pegasus whose name Rarity had never learned, but who she privately called “the Ditz”. Lastly, an earth filly had a sofa to herself; she winked at Rarity from behind a cup of steaming coffee. The slurping was abominable.
It was a relief when Matilda the League President came shuffling back in. Rarity had spent what felt like hours working out how to talk to any one of these ponies. Not like Cheerilee, who’d effortlessly elicited a few comments from the fillies and even the occasional “eeyup” or “eenope” from Big Mac.
“Help yourself to cookies, my little ponies,” said Matilda, lowering her head and taking the tray off with both hooves. “We’ve got a big announcement today.”
Those curls are lovely, Rarity thought. And such an elegant lacy collar too! Obviously, someone’s been to Canterlot.
She leaned forwards eagerly and ignored the munching of cookies around her.
“Firstly, I’m happy to announce,” said the old jenny – the coffee-drinking filly shuffled aside to make room for her – “that we have a new member: Miss Rarity. I hope you all make her feel welcome.”
Feeling something was expected of her, Rarity waved demurely while part of her bloomed under the “Miss”. Even her teacher didn’t call her “Miss”.
“The Ditz” waved back and dropped her cookie in the process. Big Mac glanced up, flashed a smile, blushed, and looked away again. The coffee-drinking earth filly put her mug down and gave a mock salute.
“Secondly,” said Matilda, “I’d like to try something a little different this week. This used to be all the rage back in Canterlot when I was your age, and I remember at the Royal Ravel we had a wonderful time coming up with all sorts of creative ideas.”
Rarity’s ears snapped to attention. Canterlot? Royal? Creative?
“Ooh!” she said before she could stop herself. “You were a member of the Royal Ravel! Why, I’ve read all about that! That’s only the most prestigious… of…”
Stares.
Coughing, Rarity leaned back and patted herself on the neck. “Uh, apologies. You were saying?”
Matilda blinked away the surprise, and Rarity marvelled at the warmth in the old jenny’s smile. “Oh, how wonderful. You’re clearly very enthusiastic. Yes, though I never became president of that club. Anyway, I was thinking we could try our hooves at a little contest this week. Something to give you all a sense of direction and artistic freedom at the same time. It’s also a fine way to break the ice…”
Rarity let her prattle on while her own mind flowered with visions. A gown, so radiant and complex in its lacework and curls that Matilda would beam at it, perhaps send it to Canterlot to show her friends, who’d talk about it all over the city, who’d want to know the name of this new talent, this mysterious master of the arts –
Someone nudged her elbow.
“Psst,” whispered Cheerilee in her ear. “Rarity? You’re, uh, drooling?”
“Hm? What?” Rarity wiped her mouth and looked at the result. “Ew. S-Sorry.”
Focusing on the others again, Rarity licked her lips. She doubted “the Ditz” could stitch anything without tangling her own hooves, and Big Mac – he glanced up again, and looked down when Cheerilee giggled at him – would hide in the background if he could.
As for Cheerilee…
Her heart pained to admit it, but still… not much competition there. Which just left the earth filly.
“OK, my little ponies,” said Matilda. “I’ll be judging on beauty, technique, and creativity. Remember above all: enjoy it. You should always enjoy the time you have, and never give up.”
Rarity swore she heard a melancholic lilt in the words, but her mind tossed it out. Focus, Rarity! it snapped. Bigger picture!
“Well, that was most interesting,” she said later, after letting the others go out first. She turned to Cheerilee. “Who was the earth filly?”
“Oh, that’s Suri Polomare. She told me she wants to move to one of the big cities someday. Everyone wants to move to the big cities.” Now Cheerilee started skipping along. “How about Big Mac, though? He’s such a cutie-pie, isn’t he?”
“Hm. Amazing how you got him to say anything. I heard he hates talking, especially to girls.”
“He just doesn’t want to upset anyone. I know how he feels. Take this contest, for instance. I know Matilda means well, but it’ll be so disappointing for the foals who lose. I don’t really see it as a contest. I’m going to look past all that and see it as a way to create lovely art to share. That way, I can cheer up everyone, even the losers – I mean, the ponies who don’t win.”
Rarity, who was still working out whether or not a wardrobe of dresses could be knitted in a week, ground gears in her head trying to think about this outlook. “That’s… an interesting way of looking at it.”
“You’re very kind.”
“And you get a cutie mark out of it, I suppose.”
Cheerilee stopped skipping; her glare vanished as soon as it arrived. “What do you mean?” she said innocently.
And with equal innocence, Rarity said, “Uh, n-nothing, nothing. Just speculating, of course. So, uh, what are your plans for the contest?”
She let Cheerilee in her studio. It made the filly happy, and if nothing else she could bounce ideas off her friend without fear of theft.
Meanwhile, Rarity scribbled on the paper, frowning under the lamp’s glare.
Now, what fabric? Velour, obviously – it’s as close to velvet as knitting fabrics get – but I need ornamentation. Perhaps creativity means interdisciplinary work? I could add brocade patterns, or at least mock-brocade – haha! – but perhaps some matelassé would suffice. Ah, why not? Throw them all in! The richer, the better!
Drat. Won’t work. I’ll have to compromise.
“Urgh!” She threw up her hooves. “Now I have to start all over again! T’chah!”
The scrunched-up ball of paper sailed across the room, bounced off the pile in the bin, and rolled to a halt beside Cheerilee. She was lying on the floor with a blank page before her. Briefly, she let her pencil drop out of her mouth.
“I’m going to lose horribly!” Rarity wailed at her. “Woe is me! Woe is meeeeee!”
“You won’t lose,” said Cheerilee smoothly. “You’re just so keen not to disappoint anyone. In the end, I’m sure everyone will love each other’s works, including yours.”
Rarity gaped at her in horror. She really believes it. She thinks she can smile and talk the world into being right!
Nevertheless, she found herself copying Cheerilee’s smile. They were just words of course, but for a moment, that smile made her think they were utterly, unquestionably true.
Feeling a bit wrong-footed, she said, “And I’m sure Big Mac will love your design too.”
Cheerilee rolled her eyes and picked up her pencil again. Eventually, it occurred to Rarity that conversation wasn’t going to resume anytime soon. She turned back to her desk –
“Knock, knock,” said a chirpy voice from the door.
– and spun round and glared. “This is a private studio!”
“Relax, kiddo,” said the filly, and Rarity instantly recognized Suri Polomare striding towards her. “Just here to give you a proper welcome. Didn’t get a chance at the League, OK?”
At once, Cheerilee shot up and seized her by the hoof. “Wonderful to see you again, Suri! May the best mare win! I’m sure you’ll do our League proud!”
“Back at ya, Cheers! Li’l ray of sunshine!”
Rarity gritted her teeth. A moment ago, Cheerilee had used those exact, encouraging tones to her.
“Suri’s amazing with a needle and thread,” said Cheerilee, as though Rarity had any desire to hear such bad news. “She’s already gotten her cutie mark in haberdashery.”
Suri’s chuckle ran through Rarity like a needle in and of itself. “Stop, please. You’re gonna make me blush, Cheers.”
“Wonderful.” Rarity raised her imperious head and extended a hoof. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Polomare.”
To her alarm, her hoof seared with pain as Suri grabbed it and swung it up and down.
“Nice manners!” Suri let go and wrapped a forelimb over Rarity’s withers. “Sounds like we got ourselves a Canterlot émigré here! Always wanted to meet a big-city type.”
Rarity extricated herself from the grip. “Sweet of you,” she said icily, “but no, I’m indigenous.”
“Never heard of the place,” said Suri cheerfully. She looked over Rarity’s shoulder. “Hey, that’s nice.”
“Back off!” Before she’d stopped to think, Rarity was standing on her chair, limbs splayed between Suri and the desk. “Oh, I know your little game. Well, you’re not spying on my work.”
Suri and Cheerilee stumbled backwards, gaping.
“Rarity!” said Cheerilee. “Calm down. She’s not that kind of pony.”
“Yeah! What the hay, kid?” Suri glowered and snorted. “Sheesh. Just trying to be chummy. No need to bite my head off. Cheers, I’m not wanted here. Catch you later, OK?”
Rarity didn’t relax until the door clicked shut. Then she sighed and returned to her seat, resolutely not looking at Cheerilee. If she could just busy herself with the sketches…
From anger to concern, Cheerilee’s voice broke through. “What’s the matter with you? I don’t usually see you like that.”
“I don’t know,” lied Rarity. “I guess the work's getting to me.”
To her shame, she felt a tiny hoof pat her forelimb. In vain, she tried to shrink where she sat.
“That’s OK. I’ll talk to her later. Promise you’ll relax a bit, OK?”
Rarity still didn’t look up. “OK.”
“I know you, Rarity. Sure, you might be a bit… much… but I just know you’ll be smiling and patting backs with the best of them. You’re always so courteous.”
Rarity didn’t say anything. She could feel acid boiling away in her stomach, and still her mind heard smugness in Suri’s echoing voice.
Three days passed, and still the smug voice wormed through her head. She stopped curling her mane. She skipped meals. Only when she found herself snapping at her parents’ worried questions did Rarity finally flee the house.
Luck was on her side; she found Cheerilee out and about on the grassy streets. Luck wasn’t exactly committed, however; she found Cheerilee by bumping into her.
“Oof!” Rarity shot to her hooves at once and helped her up. “Please forgive me, Cheerilee!”
“Rarity! You look awful. Here, come with me. Let me get you a treat from Sugarcube Corner.”
They strode side-by-side, almost bumping haunches. Even now, walking under the sun, between the cottages, across the crunchy grass, Rarity still felt haunted. Dresses flitted in and out of her thoughts. Not gilded enough. Not gaudy enough. Not grandiose enough.
“How good,” she said, having completely ignored whatever Cheerilee was chatting about, “is Suri, exactly?”
“Oh, she’s fantastic,” said Cheerilee. “Matilda reckons she could start her own line someday.”
Rarity’s forehead prickled with sweat. “At Canterlot level?”
“Could be!”
That was my dream. I was going to start my own line. I’m supposed to be a fashionista! Maybe if I used jewellery to spruce up my entry, I could sail past that scoundrel Suri and her oh-so-perfect…
Out of the question. If I resort to jewellery, then what about my knitting? I'm just covering it up. But gemstones got me my cutie mark, not fashion. Oh, gemstones on clothes, maybe, but there’s more to fashion than…
“Um. Rarity? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Rarity stopped in mid-walk.
What have I DONE!?
“Rarity?” Cheerilee turned to face her.
“Cheerilee,” she warbled. “You know I’m a fashionista, right?”
“Of course! You’re so good with dresses and designing! And the artistry! Wow!” Smiling braces dazzled under the sunlight. “You couldn’t have found a better calling.”
“Anything else?”
Cheerilee’s braces vanished. “Sorry?”
“Well, look at you. Sure, you don’t have a cutie mark right now, but one day…”
Eyes narrowed. “What’s your point?”
“I mean, it could be anything. Anything you wanted. You’re not tied down yet. If anything’s poison to creativity, it’s being tied down. Um.” Those narrowed eyes got to her. “Cheerilee? You appreciate what I’m trying to say, yes?”
Cheerilee held the glower for one second longer than was comfortable. Then she eased back. No smile returned.
“I think you’re letting this contest get to you,” she said, placing each word down as though handling glass. “Come on. Let’s go talk to Matilda.”
In a needling voice, Cheerilee said, “Rarity. You should listen to me.”
Rarity sighed. There was no fighting that voice. Even Miss Pencil Sharpener, the current schoolmarm of Ponyville, couldn’t conjure tones as threatening as those. They spoke of long afternoons in detention, of chalkboard duties revoked, of stern notes being read by shocked parents.
Rarity shrugged helplessly. “O-Only because it’s you.”
Like a little star emerging from a passing cumulus, Cheerilee’s smile twinkled. “Great! Come on.”
Rarity didn’t speak the whole way; Cheerilee’s shoulders were stiff.
When they reached Matilda’s cottage, Rarity stared instead at the ivy-smothered walls and the trimmed thatch over the porthole windows. How could a jenny with such elegant interior design be satisfied with such a rustic little hovel?
Cheerilee rapped the front door. The first thing Rarity noticed after it opened was Matilda wearing pearl earrings. Finest Canterlot pearl, from the rare Mountain Oyster species.
“Sorry to disturb you, Miss Matilda.” Cheerilee bobbed her head politely. “My friend Rarity’s a little nervous about the contest.”
Surprised, Matilda raised her long ears higher and peered into Rarity’s not-quite-stare; those pearls really were too good for Ponyville.
“Oh, don’t you worry, dear,” said Matilda, relaxing around the eyes. “It’s only your first time. So long as you enjoy your knitting, that’s all I really ask.”
“It’s not that.” Rarity shuffled her hooves. Talking to Matilda reminded her of those family reunions when her parents had insisted she give Granny some company. “It’s… Well, you’re from Canterlot.”
Matilda winked. “Good guess.”
“You know all about quality… and artistic vision… and creativity…?”
“Oh, I know all about that. Don’t you worry about the Canterlot way, dear. Sometimes, simpler ways are the most elegant.” At this, Matilda sighed. When she spoke next, she didn’t seem to be on the same world anymore. “Yes, there’s a lot to be said for simpler ways. Take Ponyville. Not a stone’s throw away from the capital, and yet so quiet and peaceful. Everyone knows everyone. Oh, sometimes a bit bad-tempered and rough around the edges, but that’s part of the charm.”
After some shuffling, Cheerilee nudged Rarity in the ribs.
“She occasionally goes off like this,” Cheerilee whispered. “She met a beau in Canterlot once.”
“A beau?”
“A lover. Canterlot's one of the most romantic Equestrian cities.” To Rarity’s surprise, Cheerilee sighed dreamily. “I’d love to go there one day, but everything’s so expensive. Anyway…” She giggled. “I’d have to take someone.”
Rarity wisely kept mum. None of this was news to her. In fact, she had a few royal names in her diary, as well as cuttings from magazines and posters.
Only Prince Charming for me, she thought with a smirk.
Shaking out of her reverie, Matilda beamed down at them. “Anyway: it’s fine wanting to try your best, but you must be sure, when you start out, that it’s what you really love to do.”
Rarity swallowed. “OK…”
“I know! How about I take you both to Sugarcube Corner and get you some nice treats? The Cakes know me. And maybe we can forget about the contest and enjoy this fine summer’s day?”
Cheerilee cheered. While Matilda locked the door and ambled down the road, Cheerilee gambolled and hopped about at the mere thought of those chocolate delights.
Rarity shuffled along behind them. So she must be sure. It’s what she really wanted to do.
Wasn’t it?
Once more, she glanced at her cutie mark. Three inscrutable, doomed diamonds. In her head, a lock clicked into place.
By the sixth day, Rarity could feel the chains closing in.
She lay on the bed in Cheerilee’s room. At this point, merely standing near the studio was enough to crush her spirit like a beetle under a boot. She’d spent all of yesterday staring at the blank page that reflected her own life.
“Feel better?” said Cheerilee calmly. Even here in her own room, she preferred to lie on the floor. Or so she’d claimed.
Rarity sank into the quilt. “A little.”
“That’s the spirit. So long as you never give up, inspiration'll come to you. I guess artistic genius just needs a bit of struggle before it can bloom.”
Shut up.
Rarity almost wept. That thought had been too unladylike.
However, she found her gaze drifting downwards, away from her own blank page and towards Cheerilee’s rough sketch on the floor. Her unguarded, unproblematic sketch.
Rarity licked her lips. Despite Cheerilee’s prior blushing and brushing aside of any praise, that was a good design. Sleek. Elegant. Simple. Matilda would love it.
Her jaws ached with the hunger driving them.
As surreptitiously as she could, she glanced sidelong at the sketch and recreated the swirls and lines on her own paper. Someone like Cheerilee didn’t need attention, but she did.
So absorbed was she by this copying that she only later noticed Cheerilee had stopped drawing. The filly was curled up on the carpet. Her head was bowed, her eyelids half-hiding her gaze.
Something moved Rarity to say, “Are you quite all right, Cheerilee?”
Cheerilee started as though waking up. “Sorry? Oh, I’m fine.”
“Jolly good.” Now, to get the poofiness of the sleeve right…
“You know, you’re a really good friend, Rarity.”
The comment was so unexpected that Rarity put her pencil down. She sensed words waiting to be spoken.
“I heard about what happened with the geode.” Cheerilee wasn’t smiling, though her voice still had that special cheer pumping through it like life-giving blood. “You could have kept all those gemstones to yourself, but you gave them to us instead.”
“Well, to the costumes.” Rarity’s heart sank. Don’t remind me, please. I HAVE to be more than just “Gemstone” Rarity. I need dresses. Class. Poise. Skill. To be a lady.
Cheerilee glanced at her wardrobe, where the encrusted costume still sparkled. “That’s right. And, well, you didn’t have to. Maybe you didn’t want to, not completely. But you still did.”
“Uh…” Rarity glanced at her own copy of the sketch. Clearly, she’d have to tweak the design so it wasn’t obvious.
“And that’s how you got your cutie mark, isn’t it really?”
The words smacked Rarity across the face. She blinked, and then she squirmed, trying to wriggle away from the horrible heat of Cheerilee’s slumped form. Suddenly, being in the same room as her was far too close.
“What?” she said.
“By being a good friend. I see it clearly now: one diamond for you, one diamond for someone else, and one diamond for a bystander pony to enjoy. It’s symbolic of your sharing of beauty.”
Rarity stared at her copy. Of course, she’d thought about the symbolism, but to actually hear someone else say it, crisply and clearly… Cheerilee sounded so certain…
“So why hasn’t it worked for me?” Cheerilee was still curled up on the carpet. Nothing had changed, not even in her tone. She was trying to sound amused. “It’s funny. I’ve tried sharing and being nice, too.”
All this time, I was just thinking about me. I’m locked into place, but at least I’ve got a place to call my own.
“But I guess it’s not my destiny. Maybe that’s a good thing, but… I wonder sometimes…”
Now the copied sketch was a monstrous mockery. Rarity recoiled from it.
Oh, my goodness.
Furiously, she scrunched up the paper. No. Whatever happened, she wouldn’t go down that route. Sharing of beauty… That’s what a fashionista ultimately does, isn’t it? Makes ponies happy. Not commonly happy, either, but… nobler. As if everywhere could be Canterlot, instead of Canterlot hoarding all its finery in one place. Not even then! Matilda could see beauty in Ponyville…
They weren’t chains. They weren’t locks. She could wrap around things, hold them solid for as long as she wanted, weave them in and out, keep unnecessary things held back and allow other things through.
They were tools. She could do things with tools. She had something.
She glanced at Cheerilee’s haunches. Nothing.
“I know what you mean,” she said gently. When Cheerilee looked up, she said, “Listen, I think your design…”
“What about it?” Cheerilee tried to cover the sketch with a hoof. Blushes gripped her cheeks.
“It’s perfect. With your permission, I’d like to make an unusual proposal. Perhaps we could… share the beauty?”
“Share?” Cheerilee cocked her head. “How?”
Rarity’s mind flexed its muscles. “Allow me to make a few suggestions. Just hear me out, then say what you think.”
Sitting on the sofa yet again, Rarity leaned back and let out a long, lavish breath. Local produce as it was, she knew good Quills and Sofas Inc. upholstery when she sat on it.
Beside her, Cheerilee fidgeted in her seat and idly tapped the top of the bag with a dangling hoof. “You’re sure this’ll work?” she whispered.
Not a clue. “Naturally,” she said, flapping an idle hoof.
Opposite, Big Mac gave her a polite if tight-lipped nod, his face pale. “The Ditz” held up the tattered tangle that had been technically a dress not five seconds before.
Suri smirked and slipped her entry back into her bag. “Bronco Jersey. Don’t come much more expensive than that.”
Sidelong glance notwithstanding, Matilda clapped her hooves with the correct Canterlot measure. “Fantastic work, as always. Now,” she continued, turning to Cheerilee. “How about you, dear?”
Cheerilee gulped. Leaning forwards, Rarity eased a hoof over to hers and pressed down reassuringly.
“Uh,” said Cheerilee, “well, I… I mean, we went about it… a little differently,” she said, and she rushed forwards and pulled out the dress as though afraid it’d evaporate soon. “I – I mean, we – call it ‘Discretion: The Better Part of Velour’.”
Big Mac giggled, and then covered his mouth with a hoof. To Rarity’s satisfaction, this reddened Cheerilee’s cheeks.
“You say ‘we’?” Matilda clicked her tongue; nearby, “the Ditz” and Suri mumbled, leaning forwards.
“Y-Yes, Miss Matilda. It was a collaboration. I don’t know if it’s against the rules, but Rarity said my design was good –”
“Perfect,” corrected Rarity breezily.
“– and so I went with that, only my knitting wasn’t as polished as hers, but I did it. She helped me with my technique… So technically, I’d like to call it a collaboration. That’s all right, isn’t it?”
“Oh, of course it is.” Matilda’s chuckle warmed Rarity’s heart. “But ‘technically’?”
“I did help with a little of the finer details,” said Rarity.
Cheerilee’s ears drooped. Rarity was painfully aware of how often Cheerilee had looked at her haunches last night, as though willing the cutie mark to epiphany its way into existence.
Matilda whistled. “You certainly did a good job there. Well done, ladies. Certainly a creative approach, and the skill is exquisite. A mixture of Canterlot and Ponyville tradition. Very well done.”
Better still, Rarity had seen the twinkle in her eyes. She’d seen it in Cheerilee’s too, when she’d proposed the collaboration.
Before Cheerilee packed it away, Rarity leaned forwards – almost on top of Cheerilee’s left side – and ran her eyes along details she couldn’t stop admiring.
Elaborate hearts embossed like the feathers of a paradise bird.
Splaying colours of the skirt like a rainbow made from sunset oranges and purples.
On the chest, two donkeys leaning against a balcony, watching the silhouettes of phoenixes crossing the sun’s disc.
Suri was declared the winner. To Rarity’s surprise, she wasn’t bothered by this and even said “bravo” during the applause.
No one seemed to have noticed the three little hearts embroidered in the skirt of Cheerilee's dress, roughly where the cutie mark would’ve been. Nor had they noticed the little message near the hem:
“To a generous friend.”
Rarity insisted Cheerilee take it home, collaboration be darned. It was miles better than that pineapple-dandelion-banana-bunch costume, anyway.
