While the exterior of the old farmhouse at Sweet Apple Acres was painted the same bright red as the orchard's prized apples, the interior walls were covered in warm earth tones. The windows and corners were trimmed in well-worn and age-stained wood, and the wallpaper bore a desaturated apple pattern. The walls were almost entirely covered by framed family portraits, homely knick-knacks, and macaroni art taken home from school by proud fillies (and at least one by Macintosh from before anypony had ever thought to affix 'Big' to his name). The smell of pies baking had been so prevalent for so long in the old structure that it smelled like fresh apple pie even when there was nothing in the oven.

Though the ground floor was a mix of bare earth and tile, the second floor—where all the bedrooms except Granny's were located—was lined with solid wood floorboards. It was a testament to the quality construction of the farmhouse that despite being older than all the current residents save one, the floorboards were not bent or warped out of alignment at all. Yes, this was high quality lumber right here under Apple Bloom's hooves. The wavy, swirly patterns of the wood grain held the yellow-coated filly's rapt attention, conveniently allowing her to avoid eye contact with the large, red, stern-faced mountain of older brother that towered over her.

“Now I want you ta sit in yer room real quiet-like, an' think about whatcha done,” Big Macintosh said in his low baritone. He did not often use his stature to intimidate anypony, but the disciplinarian air he now put on made him an imposing figure.

Apple Bloom's face found a position somewhere between 'guilty' and 'confused.' “But I—” she stammered.

“Nnope,” interrupted Macintosh, shaking his head. “No buts.” He turned and swung the door shut before the filly had the chance to protest again. The largest member of the Apple family stole a glance out the window as he marched down the stairs. He puffed out his cheeks as he spotted a purple mare making her way up the old farm road to Sweet Apple Acres.

“Eeyup,” he muttered to himself, “sure enough, here she comes.” Big Macintosh found himself a comfortable seat in the living room and waited to hear a knock on the farmhouse door.

He did not have to wait long. The voice of Ponyville's librarian accompanied the knock. “Um, is anypony home? Applejack? Mrs. Smith?”

Macintosh pushed himself out of his seat and made a deliberate plod to the front door. He twisted the handle and pulled it open. On the other side was a pony that looked very much like Twilight Sparkle. Her eyes shifted this way and that, and her left foreleg did not seem to want to stop moving. “Why, Miss Twilight,” said Big Mac. “What brings ya out here today?”

The nervous mare looked over her shoulder, as though she expected she would be followed. “I uh, was looking for my old doll, Miss Smartypants, actually,” she said. “Somepony told me I should check out here first?”

A warm smile spread across the big red stallion's lips. “Why don't ya come on inside? Would ya like some tea?”

“No!” Twilight shouted. She coughed once and lowered her volume. “I mean, no, thank you. I think I've had enough tea today.”

“Fair enough.” Big Mac stepped aside to let the unicorn in. “What about warm cider?”

“I was really hoping I could just grab my doll and go, if that's all right.”

The stocky stallion sauntered into the kitchen. “Cider it is. Have a seat, Miss Twi,” he said, flicking his short tail towards a well-worn but comfortable-looking sofa.

Twilight opened her mouth to protest, but failed to come up with any words to use. With a sigh of resignation, she collapsed on the old cushions, coughing at the little puff of dust she raised. She could hear Big Mac in the next room, rattling pans together and... was that humming? The unicorn could not recall ever hearing the large apple farmer hum before. He returned with a tray balanced on his back, a pile of cookies and a pair of steaming mugs resting on it. Twilight took the mug between her hooves. “Thank you,” she said.

Macintosh nodded in acknowledgment and slid the tray onto a low coffee table, grabbing his own mug as he settled into a wide wooden chair.

Twilight sniffed the cider and was rewarded with a pungent mix of spices. “This is the foal-friendly kind of cider, not the other stuff, right?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac said, taking a long draw from his cider. “I could get some of the hard stuff from the cellar, if you'd prefer,” he offered.

“No, thank you, I...” Twilight paused, bringing a hoof to her chin in consideration before shaking her head vigorously. “No, thank you.” She took a sip of the tangy sweet beverage, smacking her lips at the astringent flavor. “So, about my doll. Do you know where it is?”

“Eeyup.”

The purple mare waited for him to elaborate, but Big Mac appeared to have lapsed back into his trademark monosyllabism. “Does Apple Bloom have it?” she asked.

“Nnope.”

Twilight took a frustrated gulp of cider and immediately regretted doing so. Cider was not meant to be gulped in frustration. She coughed and sputtered. “Where,” she wheezed when she regained enough breath to speak again, “where is Miss Smartypants, then?”

Macintosh's face was unreadable. “She's in my room, on the shelf above my bunk,” he said.

“Oh,” said the librarian. She blinked a few times. “That's, um, that's...” her vocabulary failed her once again. “May I have her back, please?”

“Don't ya wanna know why a stallion like me's got your doll in his room, Miss Twilight?” Macintosh grinned through a sip of cider.

“To be perfectly honest, no, I'd rather not know, actually,” said Twilight. She set her mug of cider down on the coffee table and stood up. “Shelf above the bed, you said?”

The red stallion's grin grew wider. “It's 'cause she smells like ya. Books an' candles an' ink. It helps me get ta sleep at night.”

The librarian's cheeks flushed red and she laughed nervously. “Haha. That was precisely what I did not want to know. Good job. Now, if it's all right with you, I'll just be taking my doll and leaving.”

Big Mac rose from his chair and placed himself between her and the stairs. “Tell you what, Miss Twilight,” he said. “I'll give ya yer doll back if ya give me a kiss.”

Twilight's eyes widened. She began backpedaling toward the door. “Y-you know, I don't really need the doll. You can keep it. I'll just go now.”

“Aw, jus' one little kiss? Y'know, I've fancied ya fer a long time. You'd be makin' an old apple-farmer's dream come true.” He took a step forward.

The lavender librarian's response was to fiddle frantically with the latch to the door. After a moment of panicked fumbling, the door swung open and Twilight bolted out. “Everypony in this town is crazy!” she shouted as she galloped.

“It's the filly-fooler thing, ain't it?” Big Mac called after her from the doorway. “Don't you worry none about that, I could be a mare fer ya!”

“Aaaaaaahhh!”

Macintosh watched the purple unicorn disappear over the nearest hill. He turned around, his wide grin still stuck to his face. The door swung shut behind him as he made his way to the coffee table. The stallion picked up the tray and balanced it on his back so that it would be hidden from Apple Bloom's view when he went to talk to her. The stairs creaked under his hooves as he made his way up to his little sister's room. He paused to adopt a serious frown before opening her door.

Apple Bloom sat with her forehooves crossed in front of her, the same mix of perplexed guilt on her face as he had left her with. She glanced up at him through her red mane.

“You should know better than to spy on yer sister, Apple Bloom,” he scolded her.

The filly winced. “But she was gonna play a trick on ya. I thought you'd wanna know.”

“Nopony likes a taddle-tale,” said Big Mac. “If Applejack gets it in her head to dress up like Miss Twilight and try to harass me, that's her business. It ain't yer place to go an' meddle. Do ya understand?”

Apple Bloom's eyes lowered. “I understand.”

“Good. Now,” Macintosh took the tray of cookies from his back and set them on the floor in front of his little sister. He gave her a devious wink. “There's more where these came from if ya give me a heads up the next time yer sis gets any bright ideas.”

Apple Bloom stared at the cookies in confusion for a minute before understanding dawned in her eyes. A sly grin slowly spread across her face as she took a cookie and nodded.

Big Mac chuckled softly and peered out the window. From the second story, he could still see the purple speck dashing down the road toward Ponyville. He wondered how far his sister would go before getting rid of her disguise and circling back to come yell at him. That disguise sure had been something. If not for Apple Bloom's warning, he would have believed it was really Twilight Sparkle he had been talking to.

“That should teach Applejack a thing or two about thinkin' she can get the better of me,” he mused to himself. The purple speck disappeared in a soft pink flash of light. Big Mac blinked. That wasn't... no, it must have been a bit of sunlight on the window or something. There was a knock on the door.

“Oh, Big Ma—aw, honeysuckle, the voice candy wore off!” Applejack's voice sounded from the other side of the door. She coughed a few times and then did the worst impression of the librarian's voice Big Mac had ever heard. “I mean, uh, Big Mac, I'm lookin' fer my doll, Miss Smarty-Trousers. You ain't—I mean, uh, you haven't seen it anyplace, have you?”

Macintosh stumbled down the stairs and threw open the door. Standing on the porch was his sister, coat dyed to match Twilight's purple. Her indigo wig was swept up and frizzy like it had been caught in a hurricane, and she had an eyepatch. “A-Applejack?” he stammered.

The wooden unicorn horn slipped off her forehead and bounced on the floor. “Horseapples! What gave me away?” She bent down to pick the horn up.

Big Mac glanced down the road nervously. “You weren't, by any chance, here just five minutes ago, with a different wig on, were ya?”

“Rarity's only got the one wig, as far as I know,” Applejack said, trying to press the horn back onto her head. “An' five minutes ago I was at Rarity's tryin' ta get this darn thing ta stick. Goldurn cheap glue.”

Macintosh gulped loudly. “Aw, shoot,” he croaked, and took off down the road. “Miss Twilight! Miss Twi, wait! There's been a misunderstandin'!”

Apple Bloom appeared next to Applejack, mouth full of cookies. She watched with her older sister as the red stallion galloped madly toward Ponyville. “Cookie?” she offered, sliding the tray over to her.