"It's a funny word," Pinkie said, draped like a mass of pink moss down the side of the fainting couch Rarity kept in the Boutique's front showroom. Not the most vital piece of equipment, perhaps, but she'd availed herself of it a time or two in the past, she supposed.

At her workbench, Rarity allowed a smile to tug her lips, jabbed the purple thread through the eye of the needle suspended in her magic, and went back to the seam she was stitching. "Oddly enough, Pinkie, I've always been under the impression that you found [i]most[/i] words funny."

"True." A slithering sound prickled the fine hairs along the base of Rarity's mane, and she glanced up to make sure Pinkie wasn't doing anything unfortunate; she'd just slumped a little further down onto the floor, though. "But 'cleanse' is extra, special funny," Pinkie continued. "Two clickety-clack consonants at the beginning, then two vowels that sound like one vowel but not the vowel they look like they should sound like, then two more slippery-slick consonants before that last silent 'e' like the caboose on a train."

Rarity nodded absently, her attention on the seam again. "Compare it to 'lens.'" She tapped a hoof against the glasses perched on the end of her snout. "'Cleanse' is nearly twice as long, and yet the only difference in sound is, as you say, that little click at the beginning."

"Or 'props' and 'propose.'" More slithering led Rarity to look up once more, Pinkie now oozing across the carpet like a chunk of partially melted strawberry ice cream. Chiding herself, Rarity changed her mental image to a large feline sprawled bonelessly in a puddle of sunshine, Pinkie's voice coming out all slow and yawning. "Slide one little 'o' in there like a ring over a fetlock, add an 'e' caboose..." A leg—Rarity couldn't tell from this angle if it was fore or hind—rose lazily into the air and waggled. "And look where you end up."

A snap of her scissors let Rarity tie the purple thread off, and she reached out with her hornglow for the spool of red thread. "Well, when it comes to alternate vowel sounds, I've always been partial to 'choice,' 'choose,' and 'chose.'"

Motion swirled in the corner of Rarity's vision: Pinkie suddenly up on all fours, her eyes wide and her tail puffed up behind her like a tumbleweed. "I gotta go," she announced, the words running together and breathless. She leaped clear across the showroom, and the front door opened and closed so quickly, it only made one clickety-clack sound to Rarity's ears.

Several heartbeats went by, but when Pinkie didn't reenter, Rarity sighed and returned to rethreading her needle.

[hr]

Out for her constitutional that evening after the rest of the afternoon had crawled by, Rarity caught a glint in the grass at the bottom of the hill where she always stopped to enjoy the first gleam of the moon across the Whitetail Woods.

Half stepping and half sliding down the slope, she came upon a simple but lovely gold ring. A more thorough examination discovered it to be the sort with a sizing enchantment that would allow a pony to slip it on over a hoof before tapping it till it tightened to fit perfectly about a pastern, fetlock, or shank.

Looking around showed her nothing but shadows among the trees, a breeze rustling the branches. She'd seen no ponies on her way through the outskirts of town, either, lights glowing in the houses and the air humming with the quiet murmurs of families at dinner.

So she stopped by Twilight's castle and left the ring with Spike to put in the 'Lost & Found' box before she headed home.

[hr]

That weekend saw the whole town gathered at Sweet Apple Acres for McIntosh and Sugar Belle's engagement party. Applejack and Rainbow Dash both drank a good deal of the harder cider, but since they became sentimental rather than bellicose, Rarity found that she didn't have to do anything more than listen to their increasingly slurred stories as the evening darkened into night.

She'd taken on the role of riding herd on the two, as it were, since Pinkie was, of course, everywhere, checking the levels on the punchbowls and the selection among the sandwiches, adding a balloon to a table or a joke to a conversation or a record to the DJ's set, her smile and high spirits never flagging. Fluttershy was, of course, nowhere—she'd departed soon after wishing the happy couple the best, but then Rarity had always suspected her of carrying a torch for McIntosh—and Twilight had been asked to act as a sort of master of ceremonies for the whole affair.

It all proved to be splendid in part and whole—again, of course—but as Applejack and Dash listed further into their cups, Rarity couldn't help but watch Pinkie's performance with awe. 'Performance' was the only word for it, too, the way she was always on, always there, always knowing exactly what needed to be done to keep the party rolling or swaying or jumping.

Rarity told Pinkie all this the next day in her showroom. She was putting together a particularly tricky hemline while Pinkie lay on the floor wiggling a feather-on-a-string-on-a-stick at Opalescence, the cat lying beside her and pawing at the thing in an equally desultory fashion.

"Yeah," Pinkie said, a smile spreading across her snout as slowly as a good, thick caramel sauce. "Nothing's better than helping good ponies have a good party." She flopped her head over so that her smile was pointing at Rarity. "AJ and Dash get outta line?"

As much as Rarity knew a proper lady never made rude noises with her lips, well, some situations simply called for such things. "The day I can't handle those two." She shook her head. "Still, from some of Rainbow's less-coherent ramblings about Big Mac, I received the distinct impression that Fluttershy might not have been the only one of us to harbor unexpressed feelings."

The feather dipped to touch Opal's nose. The cat blinked, then snatched it with all four paws, wrapping her considerable self around it and wrenching the stick away from Pinkie.

Or rather, away from the spot where Pinkie had been sprawled an instant before. Because Pinkie was now standing. "Welp-a-rooty!" she said. "Thanks for letting me play with Opal, but I've got more flippety-flopping to do! See you next time!" And the front door seemed to spin around a vertical axis as Pinkie shot through it.

When it came to rest with the door's outside facing in, however, Rarity sighed, set down her work, and headed up the street to Chisel's carpentry shop.

[hr]

With the door refastened correctly, Rarity spent several more hours on the hemline, then stretched and stepped outside for her evening stroll.

The glint this time caught her attention immediately. The sun, not quite set yet, was shining low through Ponyville, and just exactly at eye level, something glittered from inside an azalea bush beside Trailing Arbutus's Garden Supply Emporium across the street.

Blinking, Rarity trotted over. She had to blink some more when she saw another ring, this time wedged in among the leaves and flowers. She took it gingerly in her magic, all the while checking up and down the empty street, and couldn't help gaping to find that this ring [i]also[/i] had a sizing enchantment on it. If she hadn't known better, in fact, she would've sworn that this was the very same ring.

Quickly unfurrowing her brow—no need to invite wrinkles, after all—she made her way across town to the castle, a lovely evening darkening the sky around her.

"Huh," Spike said, squinting at the ring; he was leading her down a hall into one of the libraries. "Nopony came to pick up the other one, I don't think..." Pushing the door open, he called, "Hey, Twilight! Did anypony claim that gold ring from last week?"

Twilight didn't look up from the books spread over the table between her and Starlight. "What gold ring from last week?" she asked.

"The one in the 'Lost & Found.'" Spike pulled a box from a lower shelf and flipped open the lid. "With the resizing spell."

That got both of them to look up. "Resizing spell?" Twilight's eyes widened. "Those can be tricky."

"I'll say." Starlight set down the book she'd been leafing through. "Especially with a ring. I mean, you miss one parametric variable in the casting process, the thing could tighten so much when commanded, it'd snap your hoof clean off!" She leaned forward. "Can I take a look at it?"

Rummaging through the box with one hand, Spike held the ring up with the other. "Here's the one Rarity just brought in, but the first one she found..." He looked up as the wavering mint-green of Starlight's magic plucked the second ring from his claws. "You sure nopony came to claim it?"

"Wait." Twilight's gaze followed the ring floating across to settle on the table in front of Starlight, then she turned to Rarity. "You found them [i]both,[/i] Rarity?"

Rarity nodded. "And for the record, every reputable jeweler is familiar with the sort of sizing enchantment one uses on rings." She brushed a hoof at her chest. "I've never had occasion to cast it, but I recognized it at once."

A snort drew her attention to Spike, kneeling in front of the box, the floor around him covered with an assortment of objects: a rubber ball, a notebook, several glasses cases, some random papers and toys. "That's everything." He picked the box up, flipped it over, and shook it. "The first ring's gone."

"But—" Rarity tried to organize her thoughts. "Wouldn't that mean that somepony took the ring from your 'Lost & Found' without your knowledge? And wouldn't it [i]further[/i] mean that said pony then lost said ring almost immediately only for me to find it once again?"

Spike just shrugged.

Across the room, Starlight whistled. "It's a nicely put together spell." The ring drifted over to Twilight's side of the table. "All the valances balance the way they should, and I don't detect any trip wires that could trigger it to go haywire or anything."

"[i]What?[/i]" A chill shot down Rarity's spine, and she took an involuntary step back. "You think it's some sort of ghastly trap?"

"No!" Twilight's magic snatched the ring and brought it up to where she could squint at it. "I mean, yes, it's possible, but ponies don't do things like that." She scowled at Starlight. "Most ponies wouldn't ever consider it."

Starlight coughed into her hoof in such a way that the words "Cozy Glow" emerged more or less clearly.

Twilight's scowl deepened, but so did a sudden reddish color about her cheeks. "I said 'most ponies.'"

A grin spread over Starlight's face. "Well, then, it's a good thing I'm not most ponies, isn't it?" She waved the hoof she'd coughed into. "'Cause now we know the ring's safe, and our faith in ponykind has once again been restored."

Rarity shuddered, the theory she'd been putting together about the ring's provenance going a bit shaky. Yes, Starlight's judgment in these sorts of matter was likely unimpeachable, but one more test wouldn't hurt. "Well, I'll be just as happy to leave it here with you." She turned for the library door and raised her voice slightly. "But if I come across it a third time, well, such a simple and lovely piece, I might just decide to keep it."

"Okay, Rarity!" she heard Twilight call. "Thanks for dropping it off!" Then, more quietly as the library door swung shut, "Maybe we could go over the castle's security cantrips?"

"Ya think?" Starlight's dry-as-goat-cheese voice made Rarity smile, and she trotted down the hall toward the front door.

[hr]

Wednesday saw the girls gathered for their weekly picnic behind Fluttershy's cottage, always a pleasant way to spend a late afternoon. It twinged at Rarity a bit that the six of them had become so busy of late that they had to schedule their get-togethers like this, but she knew they all preferred it to the alternative of not meeting at all...

The sky shone, of course, as did the company, and in those moments when the conversation flagged, one of Pinkie's sweet non-sequiturs—"D'you think zucchinis mind always being at the end of the line when the vegetables stand in alphabetical order?" or "Wanna try tying cherry stems into knots with your tongue?"—got them all laughing and chatting again.

"I'm continually astonished," Rarity said to Pinkie the next afternoon: she sat at her workbench again, but this time, Pinkie had taken most of the sofa cushions from around the entire Boutique and piled them into a ramp between the fainting couch and the showroom's floor. She would climb up over the back on the couch, stretch out on it, then roll herself down the ramp onto the floor before climbing back up and rolling down again. "You always know how to keep things lively."

"It's a gift," Pinkie said, taking another roll. "And I love the word 'gift' 'cause it's got three completely different kinds of consonants inside."

Finishing off another pocket, Rarity nodded. "'Pumpkins' is my favorite when it comes to words packed full of consonants. And the gourds themselves, of course. So large and round and golden."

Somehow, Pinkie managed to freeze for the length of an indrawn breath halfway down the ramp of cushions, but she did then continue her tumble to the bottom. "But we don't wanna leave the vowels out. I mean, look at 'about' and 'already.'" But instead of clambering over the back of the couch again, she instead sprang for the door. "And look at the time! Some of us hafta go, go, go!"

"'Go,'" Rarity said without looking up. "A slightly nervous swallowing sound followed by an 'o' like a ring over a fetlock."

But Pinkie was gone so quickly, Rarity wasn't entirely certain the door had even opened before it was slamming shut.

[hr]

The afternoon's remaining hours were perhaps the longest Rarity could recall, but she was determined not to vary a jot from her routine. Whatever exactly was going on here—she had a number of speculations, of course, but if the matter was anywhere [i]near[/i] as delicate as it seemed, she refused to draw conclusions in advance of the facts—her routine played a large part in it. So she sat sewing and stitching till her usual hour no matter how much she wanted to leap up and storm out into the street.

And this time when she opened the front door to step into the gathering dusk, the ring was sitting quietly and neatly on the stoop.

Stuffing it into her saddlebags, she cantered—not galloped; a lady seldom galloped, after all—across town to Sugar Cube Corner. She stopped outside to take a deep, cleansing breath, smiled at the thought of the word that had started this whole chain of events a week ago, and pushed her way inside.

A few early evening diners sat here and there, but Rarity had eyes only for Mrs. Cake at the front counter. They exchanged pleasantries, and to Rarity's eventual question, Mrs. Cake replied, "Oh, Pinkie's upstairs in her room, I think."

With a thank-you, Rarity headed for the stairs, knocked on the appropriate door, and sat down in the hallway.

Scuffling from within answered her, but nothing more.

"Pinkie?" she called, giving another knock.

More scuffling, then the door creaked open, Pinkie peering out wearing a large black bushy mustache. "No, no," Pinkie said, her voice sounding like a yak who'd eaten too much pudding. "Pinkie not in right now. You leave message, Yorick see she get it."

Fixing her half-lidded gaze on Pinkie's face, Rarity activated her horn and drew the ring from her bag.

Pinkie's eyes shot open, her jaw and mustache both dropping—though only the latter actually hit the floor. "Not here!" she whispered urgently. Rearing back, she planted both front hooves on the ring and shoved it back into Rarity's pack. "What's that you say, Rarity?" she then asked loudly. "You'd like me to come and keep you company at the Boutique while you do some boring old sewing or something? Why, sure, Rarity, I'll be happy to help! Pinkie Pie's always happy to help her friends get through their days with her joking and her joshing and her tomfoolery!"

For an instant, Rarity kept her partial glare on Pinkie, but she couldn't hold out against those big, blue eyes and that quivering lower lip. "Fine," she said with as much of a hiss as she could manage when the word she'd chosen lacked an 's.' "Oh, Pinkie Pie!" she continued all falsely bright and chipper. "Thank you so much! A pony always knows she can count on you!"

[hr]

Marching back to the Boutique, Rarity kept a smile as phony as Pinkie's former mustache stretched over her snout. Pinkie for her part chattered and danced and waved to any ponies they happened to meet until the front door was clicking closed behind them.

At which point things became very quiet very quickly.

Rarity closed her eyes, not wanting to turn around to look at the showroom with Pinkie standing in it. So instead, she addressed the wall. "'Props,' you said. And 'propose.' And the 'o' sliding in there like a ring over a fetlock." Still not turning, she reached her magic into her bag and let the ring drift upward.

"It's not like that," Pinkie said, though if Rarity hadn't know it was her speaking, she never would've been able to guess. "Yes, you're smart and pretty and wonderful and great, Rarity, but I don't wanna date you or marry you or anything."

The clamp of dread that had been tightening in Rarity's chest at the thought of having to break the heart of one of her dearest friends loosened so suddenly, she almost staggered forward into the door. Spinning, she stared wide-eyed at Pinkie. "But the—!" She waved the ring up and down. "And the—!" She flailed a hoof at the ramp of cushions she hadn't yet dismantled. "And the—!"

"I know, I know, I know!" Clasping her forehooves to her chest, Pinkie fell onto her knees. "I messed up everything and got all confused and couldn't figure out how to fix it and—"

"All right!" Rarity tried her best not to shout, but she was fairly certain that 'shout' was the only applicable word. Taking a breath, she removed her saddlebags, set the ring gently on top of them, and attempted to go on in a more measured tone. "Perhaps you could simply tell me what this has all been about."

Pinkie was shaking, but she slumped back to sit on the floor without bursting into tears the way Rarity had half feared she would. "It's about me being on fire all the time," Pinkie murmured, her head turned away so her unfocused gaze fell on a part of the floor several paces to Rarity's right. "And how I'd really, really, [i]really[/i] like to have someplace somewhere with somepony where I don't hafta be all laughing and singing and exploding."

It took Rarity a moment to find some words. "But you don't have to be that way with [i]us,[/i] Pinkie. All of us love you just the way you are."

"Correction." Pinkie held up a hoof. "I [i]do[/i] have to be that way." She drew in a shivering breath. "I love the girls, and I know they love me, but the me that they love isn't every me that I am. I'd like— I [i]need[/i] a place where I can step out of the regular me, shake the wrinkles away, maybe make an alteration or two, then slip it back on and burst into flames again."

Rarity had to nod. "Cleanse," she said. "It's a funny word."

"It is." Pinkie's ears perked for the first time since they'd entered the Boutique. "But I can't do it alone, Rarity, and I can't have just anypony help me with it, either. But you're so shiny and clear and faceted like a big diamond that the light shines through and turns into all its pretty colors, so...so I was hoping..." She crept forward and touched a hoof to the ring. "Would you accept this token of my esteem cleaning?"

The snort that Rarity let loose was entirely unladylike and entirely appropriate. "I shall treasure it always. Especially since 'treasure' provides another example of that odd-sounding 'ea' we noted previously in 'cleanse.'"

Rather than shooting up to the ceiling, Pinkie rose slowly from her crouch. "Like 'meant' but not 'mean.'"

Rolling her eyes, Rarity stepped into the ring, tapped it till it tightened about her shank, picked up her panniers, and started for her workbench. "Don't get me started about 'meant,' darling! 'Bent,' 'sent,' 'went,' extent.'" She hung up her bag. "Where does 'meant' get the nerve to go around flaunting that extra 'a' smack dab in the middle of everything?"

She looked back to see Pinkie propped against the wall as stiff as a two by four, her eyes closed and the corners of her mouth curled up just the tiniest bit. "It comes from 'peace' and 'cease,'" she said. "But 'meant' just hasta be different, doesn't she?"

"She does." Rarity picked up the suit coat she'd been working on. "She ever so certainly does."