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Authors: Zilpha Keatley Snyder
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with bridles made of flowering vines, with plumes of ferns and lilies nodding over their heads. First would come the grand entry with Ponyboy seated on Cirro, Pamela on the lovely pink Aurora, and all the other ponies following two by two. Cirro and Aurora were chosen as the parade leaders partly because they didn’t do well as ring ponies. Neither of them could resist adding all sorts of fancy flourishes to a trip around the ring, flourishes that could easily make a standing rider wind up upside down on the grass. But they were gorgeous as parade leaders, and they knew it.
They pranced and danced, sideways and backwards, their necks tightly arched and their tails like banners, one of blue flame and the other pink cotton candy.
After the parade came the pony drill. Seated on Cirro and Aurora and cracking vine whips, Pamela and Ponyboy directed the other ponies as they galloped in pairs, fours, and single file around the ring. The pony drill ended with all the ponies on their hind legs, and then the bareback riding began.
First, Ponyboy was ringmaster. He would stay in the ring while Pamela on Aurora led all the ponies out of the clearing—or Big Top as they called it—and into the edge of the forest. Two tall pines growing close together made a perfect archway for entrances and exits.
After a moment, Pamela would enter on Nimbus with a lacy tutu of ferns tied over her hitched-up skirt. Sometimes she would unbraid her hair so it could float out behind more gracefully. Once in the ring, Nimbus would begin her steady dependable gallop, and Pamela would rise slowly to her feet, sometimes shifting even to one foot. When her act was over, she would jump down and curtsy daintily while Nimbus bowed on one bent foreleg and Ponyboy, as ringmaster, pointed to them grandly with his whip.
Next Ponyboy on Luna did all sorts of daring acrobatics, jumping on and off the steadily galloping pony. Sometimes Pamela would drop her role as ring mistress long enough to sit on a log and be several hundred cheering spectators.
“Hurrah for Ponyboy!” she would shout, clapping loudly.
Next Neige and Nuage would be brought in harnessed together, and Pamela and Ponyboy would both ride them at once; first with one standing on each pony, and then one behind the other with a foot on each white back.
Solsken, of course, was too little to be in the show, but he loved to be in the midst of things and blundered about getting in everyone’s way. Finally, Pamela made him a floppy hat that tied under his chin with a big bow, and the circus had a clown.
By the time the circus was over, it was usually quite late. The ride home was always one of Pamela’s favorite times. They moved slowly through the forest, talking and laughing; but when they came to the valley, they always broke into a headlong run. There was wild excitement in the dash down the dark plain, with the night wind in their faces and the ground flying backward beneath the racing hooves. Beside her, Ponyboy crouched low over Cirro’s neck, while from close behind came the rhythmic beat of the hooves of the pony herd.
Pamela was always breathless when they reached the woods near the old barn. There in the shadow of the barn she said good-by while Nimbus nickered and nudged her gently with a dove-gray nose.
In the Pig Woman’s Swamp
O NE NIGHT, WHEN THE circus had become almost a nightly thing, Pamela watched and waited until darkness came, and there was no sign from Ponyboy. So reluctantly, she went to bed. It was several hours later when she awoke quite suddenly. She knew at once that it was very late, and that something had awakened her. She listened intently. What could it have been? Then it came again. Faint but clear—the whinny of a horse. Pamela felt her way to the window. There, directly below, a pale shadow moved. Not at the edge of the trees as usual, but right beside the house.
Pamela suddenly felt that something must be dreadfully wrong and she must hurry. Still in her
They pranced and danced, sideways and backwards, their necks tightly arched and their tails like banners, one of blue flame and the other pink cotton candy.
After the parade came the pony drill. Seated on Cirro and Aurora and cracking vine whips, Pamela and Ponyboy directed the other ponies as they galloped in pairs, fours, and single file around the ring. The pony drill ended with all the ponies on their hind legs, and then the bareback riding began.
First, Ponyboy was ringmaster. He would stay in the ring while Pamela on Aurora led all the ponies out of the clearing—or Big Top as they called it—and into the edge of the forest. Two tall pines growing close together made a perfect archway for entrances and exits.
After a moment, Pamela would enter on Nimbus with a lacy tutu of ferns tied over her hitched-up skirt. Sometimes she would unbraid her hair so it could float out behind more gracefully. Once in the ring, Nimbus would begin her steady dependable gallop, and Pamela would rise slowly to her feet, sometimes shifting even to one foot. When her act was over, she would jump down and curtsy daintily while Nimbus bowed on one bent foreleg and Ponyboy, as ringmaster, pointed to them grandly with his whip.
Next Ponyboy on Luna did all sorts of daring acrobatics, jumping on and off the steadily galloping pony. Sometimes Pamela would drop her role as ring mistress long enough to sit on a log and be several hundred cheering spectators.
“Hurrah for Ponyboy!” she would shout, clapping loudly.
Next Neige and Nuage would be brought in harnessed together, and Pamela and Ponyboy would both ride them at once; first with one standing on each pony, and then one behind the other with a foot on each white back.
Solsken, of course, was too little to be in the show, but he loved to be in the midst of things and blundered about getting in everyone’s way. Finally, Pamela made him a floppy hat that tied under his chin with a big bow, and the circus had a clown.
By the time the circus was over, it was usually quite late. The ride home was always one of Pamela’s favorite times. They moved slowly through the forest, talking and laughing; but when they came to the valley, they always broke into a headlong run. There was wild excitement in the dash down the dark plain, with the night wind in their faces and the ground flying backward beneath the racing hooves. Beside her, Ponyboy crouched low over Cirro’s neck, while from close behind came the rhythmic beat of the hooves of the pony herd.
Pamela was always breathless when they reached the woods near the old barn. There in the shadow of the barn she said good-by while Nimbus nickered and nudged her gently with a dove-gray nose.
In the Pig Woman’s Swamp
O NE NIGHT, WHEN THE circus had become almost a nightly thing, Pamela watched and waited until darkness came, and there was no sign from Ponyboy. So reluctantly, she went to bed. It was several hours later when she awoke quite suddenly. She knew at once that it was very late, and that something had awakened her. She listened intently. What could it have been? Then it came again. Faint but clear—the whinny of a horse. Pamela felt her way to the window. There, directly below, a pale shadow moved. Not at the edge of the trees as usual, but right beside the house.
Pamela suddenly felt that something must be dreadfully wrong and she must hurry. Still in her
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