As Brocktree, Dotti, and the alicorn sisters walked through the woods, Dotti unfolded her story. "Well, what with one bally thing or another, I was always in trouble back in the mideastern hills. If a confounded pie went missin' from a windowsill, or somebeast had been at the cider store, guess who got the blinkin' blame? Me! Trouble causer, rabble rouser, scoff swiper, I've been called all of those, y'know. Not to mention frogwalloper an' butter wouldn't melt in me mouth. Fiddle dee dee, I say, 'twas all because of my fatal beauty. They always pick on the pretty ones, I've already told you that. Anyhow, just after Grandpa's whiskers went afire an' some villain tore the seat out of Uncle Septimus's britches, my dear old parents made a decision. They sent me to live with my Aunt Blench at Salamandastron. She's the chief cook there- a real old battleax, I believe."

"This looks like a good place to make camp," Brocktree said after a while. "There's a brook beyond that tall elm yonder. Dotti, you go and fill this bowl with water while I get a small fire going."

The haremaid sprang up, grabbing the bowl from Brocktree's big paws and saluting smartly in a comical manner. "Brook beyond tall elm! Fill bowl with water! Yes sah! Three bags full sah! Goin' right away sah! About turn, quick march! One two hup!"

The other three grinned as they watched her strut off, trip, send the bowl flying, and catch it clumsily.

"It's a good thing you didn't tell her to light the fire," Luna said once the hare was out of sight. "She'd probably have sent the whole forest up in flames."

"At least she can't flood the forest with a single bowlful of water," Celestia murmured.

Brocktree took out his tinderbox. "Ah well, at least she's company."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Flickering shadows from the fire hovered about the woodland glade; somewhere close by a nightjar warbled in the branches of a sycamore. Dotti scraped a wooden ladle around the empty bowl and licked it. "Confounded good soup that was, sah."

"Can all Badger Lords cook as well as you?" Celestia asked.

"Maybe you'd best fire my Aunt Blench an' promote y'self to head cook when we get to Salamathingee, wot?"

Brocktree hooded his eyes in mock ferocity. "If I do become head cook I'll make sure that you get lots of sticky, greasy pots to wash, young miss!"

Dotti began rummaging in her bag. "If the scoff tastes as good as that I'll lick 'em all shinin' clean. Least I can do is to render you a little ditty to aid your digestion, sah."

"A song would be nice," Celestia said.

Dotti peered into the bag as she rooted around in its interior. "Oh corks, half the beads have fallen off this blinkin' shawl the mater gave me for Aunt Blench. It's absolutely soaked with cider, too. Aha! Here's me faithful old harecordion. A few of the keys 'n' reeds are stickin', but the cider may have loosened 'em up a touch. Right, here goes, pin your ears back and get ready for a treat. Wot?"

To describe the haremaid's voice as being akin to a frog trapped beneath a hot stone would have been a great injustice, to both frog and stone. Moreover, the instrument she was playing on sounded like ten chattering squirrels swinging on a rusty gate. However, Dotti played and sang on blithely.

Her companions squinched their eyes shut, fervently hoping that the song did not contain many verses.

"I am but a broken-hearted maid,

My tale I'll tell to you,

As I sit alone in this woodland glade,

Yearnin' for a pudding or two.

I hi hi hi, si hi hi hi hi hiiiiiing!

Whack cum folly doo, whoops cum whang,

The greatest song my grandma sang

Was to her family of twenty-three,

Ho dish up the pudding, save some for me!

Twas made from fruit an' arrowroot,

Hard pears an' apples too,

Some honey that the bees chucked out,

That set as hard as glue,

Some comfrey leaf an' bulrush sheaf,

An' damsons sour as ever,

She stirred the lot in a big old pot

While we sang 'Fail me never.'

When all of a sudden Grandma's puddin'

Burst right out the pot,

Round as a boulder, not much older, fifty times as hot!

It shot down the road, laid out a toad,

An' knocked two hedgehogs flat,

Splashed in the lake an' slew a snake,

An' the frogs cried 'Wot was that?'

Oh deary me calamity, oh woe an' lack a day,

Without a pudding to me name

I'll sit an' pine away… awaaaaaaay

Whack foholly doohoohoodelll daaaayeeeeee!"

"I see why her family sent her away," Luna muttered to Celestia.

But there was one creature listening who actually enjoyed the song. A pink pony with a strange brown hat on her head stepped out from behind a tree, clapping her hooves.

"That was wondermarvelously spendiferious!" she shouted. "Sing it again!"

So Dotti sang it again, and the pink pony tried to sing along, but she didn't have very good pitch, and she didn't really know the words, so it sounded like a train wreck. Luna was grinding her teeth. This duet was more than she could take.

Brocktree sensed her discomfort, and when the singers paused for breath, he tried to divert the pony by asking, "What's your name?"

"I'm Chancellor Puddinghead Pie!" the pony laughed, jumping up and down, and the badger realized she was actually wearing a bowl of pudding on her head. "I'm the leader of the Earth Ponies in these parts. What sort of pony are you? I've never seen one with a great stripy head like yours!"

Brocktree grinned. "Oh, I'm a badger pony. I'm called Lord Brocktree."

"A badger pony? I've never heard of those!"

"Well, actually, that was a joke. I'm not really a pony. I'm just a badger."

"A joke! HAHAHAHAHA!" Chancellor Puddinghead started rolling on the ground with laughter, even though she didn't actually understand the joke.

"Are you all right, miss?" Celestia asked.

Puddinghead straightened up. "Yeah, I'm fine. That was just so funny-"

"It wasn't that funny," Luna said.

Then Chancellor Puddinghead did a gasp. "Wait- you're alicorns! I thought you were a myth, like Bigfoot, or moles!"

"Oh, we're real all right," said Luna. "My name is Luna and this is my sister Celestia."

"And my name is Dorothea Dillworthy Duckfontein," said Dorothea Dillworthy Duckfontein. "But my friends call me Dotti. I've also been called a fatal beauty." She fluttered her eyelashes.

"Yeah, I can see that," said Chancellor Puddinghead. "Do you guys wanna come stay the night at my house? That's gotta be better than camping in the woods!"

"All right, friend," said Lord Brocktree. "Lead us to it!"