beneath a brightly coloured umbrella. Lauren held the gate open for her.
The lady nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
Lauren followed her through. The lady suddenly slipped on the wet ground and almost fell. ‘Careful!’ Lauren cried. She reached forward to hold the lady’s elbow until she had regained her balance.
‘Thank you again,’ the lady said, her face creasing into a wide smile. She had
the friendliest blue eyes that Lauren had ever seen.
‘You’re welcome,’ Lauren said, smiling. ‘I’m Lauren,’ she went on.
‘Hello, Lauren,’ the lady answered. ‘So if you’re here at the sale, I guess you like ponies.’
Lauren nodded. ‘I love them! My parents are going to buy me one.’ She didn’t want to sound spoilt, but she couldn’t stop herself from blurting out her amazing news.
‘Aren’t you lucky?’ The lady’s eyes twinkled as they met Lauren’s.
‘I’m the luckiest person in the world,’ Lauren breathed. ‘Will you be OK now? I ought to get going. My mother will be wondering where I am.’
‘I’ll be just fine, thank you,’ the lady replied. ‘I hope you find the pony you’re looking for.’
‘Thank you,’ Lauren said. She scanned the crowds anxiously for her mother. Spotting her, she looked back to say goodbye to the old lady, but she had already slipped away.
Lauren shrugged and quickly made her way into the barn, past the horses. As she rounded the corner, she saw her mum ahead of her, at the end of the barn. She was standing beside a row of about ten ponies. Lauren ran to her.
‘There you are, Lauren!’ her mother exclaimed. ‘I thought I’d lost you.’
‘Not a chance,’ Lauren grinned. She looked excitedly at the ponies in front of her.
In the first pen, there was a tiny black pony. The next pen was empty, but beside it there were two pretty chestnuts with matching white stars. Next to them was an old grey mare with feathery legs and a large head, and beside her was a cheeky-looking bay. On the door of each pen there was a card with details about the pony inside.
There was no sparkling white pony like Lauren had been imagining, but she didn’t care. ‘They’re all lovely!’ she gasped, turning around to her mum.
‘Well, this one’s much too small,’ Mrs Foster said, as she looked at the little black pony. ‘We want a pony who’s about thirteen hands high and at least six years old. Any younger and he’ll be too inexperienced.’
Lauren ran over to the bay gelding’s pen and looked at the card attached to his gate. ‘Topper,’ she read out. ‘Thirteen hands. Four years old.’ She felt a flicker of disappointment. He was too young. She patted him and moved on.
The grey mare was too tall, the black pony was too small, and the chestnut ponies were only three years old. Lauren walked along the line of ponies, reading their sale notices. She reached the end of the row. Not one of them was right.
Her mum came up behind her and squeezed her shoulder. ‘Maybe we won’t find your perfect pony today. We can always come to the next sale. It’s only a month away.’
A month! Lauren looked around. She couldn’t wait that long. ‘The little black pony isn’t that small,’ she began desperately. ‘And he’s really cute…’
Just then, she heard the sound of hooves. She swung around. A man was leading a scruffy grey pony out of the vet’s tent and down the walkway towards the last empty pen. ‘I thought I wasn’t going to get here in time for the sale,’ he said, noticing Lauren and her mum.
The pony looked quiet and sad.
‘Hi, boy,’ Lauren said, going over to him.
At the sound of her voice, the pony lifted his head and pricked his ears. He whinnied and Lauren felt her heart flip. Suddenly she didn’t care that he was scruffy and dirty. This was the pony she wanted. ‘How old is he?’ she asked the pony’s owner.
‘Twilight? He’s seven,’ the man replied.
Lauren swung around to her mum. ‘He’s the right age!’ The pony
The lady nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
Lauren followed her through. The lady suddenly slipped on the wet ground and almost fell. ‘Careful!’ Lauren cried. She reached forward to hold the lady’s elbow until she had regained her balance.
‘Thank you again,’ the lady said, her face creasing into a wide smile. She had
the friendliest blue eyes that Lauren had ever seen.
‘You’re welcome,’ Lauren said, smiling. ‘I’m Lauren,’ she went on.
‘Hello, Lauren,’ the lady answered. ‘So if you’re here at the sale, I guess you like ponies.’
Lauren nodded. ‘I love them! My parents are going to buy me one.’ She didn’t want to sound spoilt, but she couldn’t stop herself from blurting out her amazing news.
‘Aren’t you lucky?’ The lady’s eyes twinkled as they met Lauren’s.
‘I’m the luckiest person in the world,’ Lauren breathed. ‘Will you be OK now? I ought to get going. My mother will be wondering where I am.’
‘I’ll be just fine, thank you,’ the lady replied. ‘I hope you find the pony you’re looking for.’
‘Thank you,’ Lauren said. She scanned the crowds anxiously for her mother. Spotting her, she looked back to say goodbye to the old lady, but she had already slipped away.
Lauren shrugged and quickly made her way into the barn, past the horses. As she rounded the corner, she saw her mum ahead of her, at the end of the barn. She was standing beside a row of about ten ponies. Lauren ran to her.
‘There you are, Lauren!’ her mother exclaimed. ‘I thought I’d lost you.’
‘Not a chance,’ Lauren grinned. She looked excitedly at the ponies in front of her.
In the first pen, there was a tiny black pony. The next pen was empty, but beside it there were two pretty chestnuts with matching white stars. Next to them was an old grey mare with feathery legs and a large head, and beside her was a cheeky-looking bay. On the door of each pen there was a card with details about the pony inside.
There was no sparkling white pony like Lauren had been imagining, but she didn’t care. ‘They’re all lovely!’ she gasped, turning around to her mum.
‘Well, this one’s much too small,’ Mrs Foster said, as she looked at the little black pony. ‘We want a pony who’s about thirteen hands high and at least six years old. Any younger and he’ll be too inexperienced.’
Lauren ran over to the bay gelding’s pen and looked at the card attached to his gate. ‘Topper,’ she read out. ‘Thirteen hands. Four years old.’ She felt a flicker of disappointment. He was too young. She patted him and moved on.
The grey mare was too tall, the black pony was too small, and the chestnut ponies were only three years old. Lauren walked along the line of ponies, reading their sale notices. She reached the end of the row. Not one of them was right.
Her mum came up behind her and squeezed her shoulder. ‘Maybe we won’t find your perfect pony today. We can always come to the next sale. It’s only a month away.’
A month! Lauren looked around. She couldn’t wait that long. ‘The little black pony isn’t that small,’ she began desperately. ‘And he’s really cute…’
Just then, she heard the sound of hooves. She swung around. A man was leading a scruffy grey pony out of the vet’s tent and down the walkway towards the last empty pen. ‘I thought I wasn’t going to get here in time for the sale,’ he said, noticing Lauren and her mum.
The pony looked quiet and sad.
‘Hi, boy,’ Lauren said, going over to him.
At the sound of her voice, the pony lifted his head and pricked his ears. He whinnied and Lauren felt her heart flip. Suddenly she didn’t care that he was scruffy and dirty. This was the pony she wanted. ‘How old is he?’ she asked the pony’s owner.
‘Twilight? He’s seven,’ the man replied.
Lauren swung around to her mum. ‘He’s the right age!’ The pony
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