I'll confess when John told me he'd seen some brightly colored ponies in the house I thought he might have begun dipping into whatever supplies he keeps stored in his old medical kit. But then I saw one myself.
And a couple more after that.
And one with somewhat queenly raiment.
And finally some that might have been juveniles.
Deciding this merited further investigation, I eventually discovered the ponies belonged to The American's daughter. She keeps them as part of some kind of bizarre collection. (No, John, I don't think we're part of any kind of bizarre . . . Wait . . .)
In any case, of course John wanted to pet them. So:
Yes, John, I do think the horsies are pretty. Sigh.