Little Miss Generous loved doing things for others.
She loved giving things to others.
She loved spending her time on others.
Whenever somebody served her in any way, she would give them a tip. Usually it would be a beautiful, glittering gemstone from her collection.
It gladdened her heart.
Little Miss Generous owned a boutique that she had set up in her home. Here she designed, sewed and sold dresses. Lovely, elegant dresses.
She took immense pride in her work, poring over the designs and checking the products every step of the way, to make sure they looked exactly right.
She added jewels to her dresses as well, sewing them into the fabric to give them a glittering extra touch of glamour.
Yet despite the expensive materials and all the time and effort she poured into her creations, she made sure her prices were reasonable.
One day she received a visit from her friend, Little Miss Marvellous, to see how her dress was coming along.
Little Miss Marvellous could do all kinds of magical tricks. Indeed, she could have made a dress by magic. But it would not have looked nearly as beautiful, nor fit nearly as well, as one of Little Miss Generous' outfits.
"My dress looks lovely," said Little Miss Marvellous, although she didn't seem quite certain.
Little Miss Generous gave a knowing smile. "But it needs a little something extra?"
"Only if it's not too much trouble," said Little Miss Marvellous hurriedly.
"Nonsense, darling. Follow me."
Little Miss Generous led Little Miss Marvellous into a side room and turned on the light. She opened a drawer and pulled out an armful of fabric swatches, in a myriad of colours and textures. "Accents," she said, passing the swatches to the wide-eyed Miss Marvellous.
Miss Generous opened two more drawers, divided into sections. Each section contained a burgeoning collection of a different type of jewel. Rubies, sapphires, amethysts, diamonds, topaz, all gleaming and glittering. "Appliques," said Miss Generous. "Take a look and see if anything cries 'Little Miss Marvellous' to you. And if you really get stuck, you might take inspiration from my," she paused as excitement built within her, "private collection!"
Miss Generous swept back a heavy curtain revealing a vast wardrobe filled with dazzlingly beautiful dresses. She beamed with pride.
"Wow," said Miss Marvellous, her eyes and mouth agape. "I never knew you owned so many dresses. And gemstones. Your collection is incredible."
Miss Generous' proud smile began to falter a little. "Yes. It certainly is," she said somewhat quietly.
"Is everything all right?" asked Little Miss Marvellous, concerned she had said something wrong.
"Oh yes, darling. Everything's fine," replied Little Miss Generous, forcing herself to smile again.
"You're sure?"
"Oh yes. Ticketty-boo."
But everything was not fine.
Nor ticketty-boo.
Not at all.
Little Miss Generous did not sleep much that night. Instead she lay awake in her soft, comfortable bed, thinking about all the pretty things she owned and desired, and turning a troubling question over and over in her mind.
"Am I truly generous?"
The next morning Little Miss Generous was walking down the street, the same question still gnawing at her, when she spotted Little Miss Kind walking a motley assortment of half a dozen dogs. The dogs belonged to different people in the town who didn't have time to walk them every day.
"Good morning, Miss Generous," said Little Miss Kind in her soft, gentle voice.
"Good morning," replied Little Miss Generous.
Perhaps I could ask Little Miss Kind whether I am truly generous, thought Little Miss Generous.
"Miss Kind?" she began.
"Yes?" asked Little Miss Kind, as the dogs sat at her feet, their tails wagging, eager to resume their walk.
No, thought Little Miss Generous. She might think she was being unkind if she told me that I'm not so generous.
"Never mind. It's not important."
"Okay," said Little Miss Kind. And off she and the dogs went.
A moment later, Little Miss Laughter came skipping along the path. When she spotted Little Miss Generous, she swooped on her and threw her arms around her in a warm, tight hug. "Hi, Miss Generous," she squealed, lifting Miss Generous off the path and spinning her around. "Wheeeee!"
"Good morning," replied Little Miss Generous with a little chuckle, once Little Miss Laughter had put her down.
Perhaps I could ask Little Miss Laughter whether I am truly generous, thought Little Miss Generous.
"Miss Laughter?" she began.
"Yes?" asked Little Miss Laughter, beaming and blinking her big eyes in anticipation.
No, thought Little Miss Generous. She might think I'd be unhappy if she told me that I'm not so generous.
"Never mind. It's not important."
"Okey-dokey-lokey," chirped Little Miss Laughter. And off she skipped, looking for somewhere else to spread cheer.
A moment later, Little Miss Loyal came leaping from one rooftop to another. She would be representing her town in a parkour tournament and was determined to do her best for the town.
"Hey, Miss Generous," called Little Miss Loyal from the top of a building.
"Good morning," Little Miss Generous called back.
Perhaps I could ask Little Miss Loyal whether I am truly generous, thought Little Miss Generous.
"Miss Loyal?" she began.
"'Sup?" asked Little Miss Loyal, doing some stretches while she waited.
No, thought Little Miss Generous. She might think she was being disloyal if she told me that I'm not so generous.
"Never mind. It's not important."
"'K. Gotta dash." So off vaulted Little Miss Loyal towards another row of rooftops.
Little Miss Generous stood in thought for a moment.
Then she straightened up, a look of resolve on her face.
"There's one friend on whom I can count to tell me the unvarnished truth."
And off she set.
After a while she arrived at Sweet Apple Acres, the local apple farm.
She let herself in through the gate at the main entrance and walked along the front path until she spotted whom she was looking for.
Standing on a stepladder under a shady apple tree was Little Miss Honest. She was picking apples from the tree and placing them in a basket hanging over her arm.
Little Miss Generous drew closer and cleared her throat. "Miss Honest?"
Little Miss Honest turned to face the visitor. She doffed her Stetson hat and wiped the sweat from her brow onto her forearm. "Well howdy Miss G. What can I do ya for?"
"Are you busy?" asked Little Miss Generous.
"Like a beaver who's behind on his buildin'," replied Little Miss Honest. "But I can spare a few minutes. What's up?"
Little Miss Generous tried to think of the right way to ask. "Do you think—no. Would you say—no."
Little Miss Honest began to tap her cowgirl-booted foot on the rung of her stepladder. "Did I happen to mention how busy I am?"
"Of course. I'm sorry." Miss Generous took a deep breath and let it out, then asked, "Am I, am I truly a-a generous person?"
Little Miss Honest's face fell. She tilted her head and planted her free hand on her hip. "Now what kind of fool question is that?"
"The kind to which you seem reluctant to provide a straight answer," murmured Little Miss Generous.
"I'll answer it right enough," snapped Little Miss Honest. "First I wanna know where all this hooey is comin' from."
Miss Generous told her all about all the jewels and dresses and finery she owned, how much she desired them, and how this made her doubt whether she was truly as generous as her name suggested.
Miss Honest thought for a moment, then smiled. She climbed down her stepladder, placed her basket of apples at the base of the tree and walked off, beckoning Miss Generous to follow her. "Come here a minute."
Miss Generous was puzzled but she doubted she would get any answers just standing there on her own. She set off after Miss Honest.
Little Miss Honest led Little Miss Generous to a wagon with a pony hitched to it. Miss Honest climbed aboard the wagon then helped Miss Generous on.
Miss Honest drove the wagon deep into the farm, past hundreds of apple trees and acres of green land.
As they rode on, Miss Generous noticed that the trees were becoming fewer and farther between and that the grass was becoming longer and more unkempt, with plenty of bare, stubbly patches.
Eventually they arrived at their destination. Miss Honest reined her draught pony to a stop, leapt off the wagon and helped Miss Generous down. The grass was very long here and the ground was muddy and uneven. Miss Generous silently wished she had brought a sturdier pair of shoes with her.
Miss Honest gestured towards a patch of land. "Well, there she is."
"There who is?" Miss Generous couldn't see anybody. All she could see was a rusty, buckled, broken-down old wagon, surrounded by weeds and spider webs.
"My old wagon," replied Miss Honest proudly. "Been in my family fer years. That wagon's seen plenty of seasons, good and bad, I can tell you. Cain't use it no more, o' course, but it's got a powerful lotta sentimental value.
"And I want you to have it."
"Me?" Little Miss Generous tried to hide her sense of horror. "What would I want with—I mean, what would I do with your old wagon if it can't be used anymore?"
"Thought you might use it to add some rustic decor to yer boutique. Class the place up, like. Or maybe it could give yer back yard a little character."
"I—well—I—" The last thing Miss Generous wanted anywhere near her boutique was a dirty, rusty old heap of a wagon. But how could she turn down such a heartfelt offer from such a dear friend without hurting her feelings?
As she tried desperately to think of a graceful way out of her situation, Miss Generous became aware of a snorting sound. She turned towards the source of the sound, and her cheeks turned bright red.
Little Miss Honest was laughing at her.
"The look on yer face," guffawed Little Miss Honest as she pointed at Little Miss Generous and staggered back a step.
"That wagon's a hunk o' junk," she continued. "It's so rusty I cain't even sell it fer scrap. 'Sentimental value', huh! I don't want that thing clutterin' up my barn, so I sure cain't picture it in yer fancy boutique."
"Then what, pray tell, was your purpose in offering it to me?" asked Miss Generous rather testily. "I trust you didn't bring me all the way out here just to play some beastly joke."
"I brought you all the way out here to show you it ain't generous to give away stuff you don't care about.
"So ya like the finer things in life. It's not like you hoard up all yer pretty gemstones and frou-frou outfits fer yerself. Look at all the tips you give, tossin' around those precious jewels like candy from a parade float. And those dresses you sell. Fancy as anything yew'd wear, decorated with even more gems, and all fer prices that regular folks can afford.
"And yer not just generous with stuff, neither. Look at all the time ya spend designin' and sewin' those outfits, makin' 'em just right. The time prospectin' fer all those jewels on those hot, dusty plains an' in those dark, damp, spooky caves. Yew'd never go to all that trouble just to pretty yerself up."
"I suppose not," said Miss Generous. "But even so, I've no shortage of frippery in my possession. Can I truly call myself generous when I keep desiring and acquiring all those things?"
"Yer Little Miss Generous, not Little Miss Perfect. Yew live up to that name better'n anyone but nobody expects you to be generous every minute of every day. Look at me. I fibbed about wantin' to give you that old wagon, didn't I?" She grinned. "Not that I reckon I coulda kept it up fer much longer."
Miss Generous slowly nodded. "And in telling me a white lie, you helped me fully understand the truth." Her eyes widened. "Just as my love for beautiful things helps me to understand what my customers will want! It helps me be creative! And sophisticated and determined to get my work just right and maybe just a touch overly dramatic when I don't.
"It-it's part of what makes me ... me!"
As her excitement grew, Little Miss Generous became aware that she was starting to lose her balance. She flailed her arms around as she felt herself pitching forwards. Squealing in alarm, she threw out her hands to stop herself falling flat on her face.
"Eeuugghh!" groaned Little Miss Generous. She detested getting any part of herself dirty, especially her hands. Fearing the worst, she winced down at the two hands she had planted on the muddy ground.
Only she didn't.
She no longer had hands.
Instead she had two single-toed hooves.
Hooves!
Whimpering in confusion, she glanced around at herself. She was covered in a white-furred hide. Her feet had changed to hooves as well, and the pink high-heeled shoes she had been wearing had vanished. Hanging from her backside was a purple tail, shaped just like the curled locks on her head.
A head that now sported a spiralled horn jutting out from her forehead.
She had turned into a unicorn.
"You okay, Rarity?"
She looked in the direction of the voice. Little Miss Honest had changed as well. She was now a pony, her hide orange, her boots gone (although her Stetson hat was still on her head). Even more strangely, Miss Honest did not seem in the least bit fazed by either of their transformations.
The white unicorn pony herself was a lot less astonished than should have been. She did feel a little bewildered and disoriented, but her current state seemed quite natural to her. It seemed right. As if she had just woken from a vivid, peculiar dream. "I, erm, actually I rather think I am."
"Dandy. Welp, better get back." The orange pony started hitching herself to her wagon—the one they had ridden, not the rusty old wreck she had jokingly offered to her friend—alongside the pony who had drawn them there. "I've got plenty of work to do. So's Big Mac here, and he's stood around listenin' to us flap our yaps long enough, right?"
"Eeyup," replied Big Mac in his deep voice.
Applejack—whence did that name come?—jerked her head back towards the wagon. "Yew comin', Rare?"
Little Miss Generous—or Rarity, as her name now was—shook off her confusion and walked, on all fours, towards the wagon.
The two strips of fabric, one magenta and one lavender, danced a mid-air pas de deux, guided by the magic from Rarity's horn. Rarity peered through her red-rimmed pince-nez at the two samples, trying to determine which would better suit her latest creation, when the sound of a tinkling bell signalled the arrival of somepony at Carousel Boutique. Rarity laid the fabrics aside and hastened out to greet the new arrival.
"Twilight! Just the pony I wanted to see. Are you aware of any large-scale transformative or illusory spells cast over Ponyville recently? Because I have just experienced the most extraordinary——" Rarity ceased her chatter when she noticed the look of subdued anxiety on Twilight Sparkle's face. "Goodness, darling, is everything all right?"
"That's what I came here to find out," replied the winged, purple-coated unicorn. "Yesterday you seemed put out when I was talking about how many dresses and jewels you owned. Like I'd suggested you were greedy or something. I know you said everything was fine but I can't stop thinking about it. I'm probably just being silly and worrying over nothing again but..." Twilight's face, which had been darting around the boutique, finally fixed on Rarity's. "I didn't mean anything by it, honest, and I just want to make sure I didn't upset you."
Rarity hung her head and sighed, then looked back up at her friend. "You're right, Twilight. I was upset." She lifted her forehoof to still Twilight's little groan of dismay and guilt. "But you're also wrong. It was I who was being silly and worrying over nothing. I've since talked over my concerns with Little Mi—I mean, Applejack—and now everything truly is all right.
"Even so, I should have been honest with you from the beginning. I knew all along that your remark was innocent and I thought if I acted like everything was fine then you wouldn't feel guilty." Rarity gave a rueful little smile. "Not one of my more successful ideas, was it?"
Twilight smiled back, her first smile since her arrival. "I'm just glad you're not upset."
"Indeed not. It was all just..."
Rarity smirked, her eyes twinkling.
"A little miss understanding."
