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Today's story is a throwback episode.
Tune in to hear one of our classic stories from the archive that you might have missed the first time around.
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Enjoy the episode!
Once upon a time, there was a lazy pony.
His name was Webster and he spent his days running through the fields of his family's farm, munching on oats and hay and chasing the ducks by the pond.
His owner was the farmer's daughter, a happy young girl named Harper.
She took great care of her little pony.
And Webster's favorite thing of all was when Harper would sit by his side in the stables and brush his coat and mane.
She was thorough and gentle and always made sure that he went to sleep happy, without any burrs or dirt in his hair.
Good night, Webster, she would say when she finished.
Sleep tight, little pony.
Webster would neigh back at her and prance his feet.
He was saying, Thank you!
See you in the morning!
Of course, Harper didn't speak pony, but she got the gist of it anyway.
Webster went on living his happy life until one day the farm ran into some trouble.
There had been too much rain in the spring and many of the young plants on the farm had been washed away.
They needed some extra money, and Harper wanted to help.
Together with her parents, they decided they could mine the salt from a hill nearby.
They had already dug it out, and while it wasn't a true mine, it had craggy walls of white-gray salt rocks.
They had always used it for themselves around the farm for cooking and preserving food, but they had plenty extra to sell.
We can mine a little easy enough, her father said.
But we'll get the best price at the farmer's market in Merrimack.
They're only open a few days a week and we need to tend the crops we have left, her mother said.
Oh, I can take the salt to the market, said Harper, eager for responsibility.
That way you could keep working on the farm and I can help out.
It's pretty heavy, father said.
Well, I'll put it on Webster, Harper said.
He loves to run around and chase the ducks.
He can definitely carry a couple bushels of salt if I walk next to him.
Oh, that would work perfectly, Mother said, giving her a kiss on the head.
The market is open tomorrow.
Why don't we give it a try?
So it was all agreed, and Harper couldn't wait to make the trip.
Her mother helped fit Webster with panniers, which were special bags that went on his harness and distributed the weight evenly across his back.
Webster was happy for the attention and whinnied and pranced and licked Harper's face.
Oh, we're gonna take a little trip, she said, laughing.
Are you ready for a trip?
Webster could understand English even if he couldn't speak it, and the word trip was like a dog hearing the word walk, making him more excited than ever.
He'd often go on little trips with Harper.
She would either ride on his back or walk along beside him with the reins.
I can't wait!
I can't wait! he said, tossing his mane and practically dancing in his stall.
He got even more excited when Harper's dad came in with two big bushel baskets of salt.
A salt lick was one of Webster's favorite snacks!
Oh boy, salt, he said, until the salt was moved past his nose and loaded into the saddlebags.
Webster grumbled, feeling the weight settle onto his back.
It was about as heavy as Harper and he could easily handle it, but it upset him because he'd never had to work before and it didn't seem fair.
Oh, it's just a trip to the market, Harper said, seeing his mood change.
Time for you to earn your oats, buddy.
Earn my oats?
Webster whinnied.
He'd never had to earn his oats before.
He was always free to run around and play all day, chasing ducks and getting brushed.
Working was for the other animals.
Sensing his unhappiness, Harper scratched behind his ears.
Okay, you two, Mother said.
You know the way to the market, just make sure you stay out of the stream.
If the bags get wet, all the salt will melt away in the water.
We'll be careful, Harper said, picking up the reins.
Won't we, Webster?
The pony tossed his mane and pranced, but already he was thinking of a plan to get out of work.
They walked through the fields of their farm and through the neighbors' fields and onto the dirt road to the market, worn smooth as a street by a thousand thousand footsteps over the years.
Harper chatted to her pony as they walked, but Webster wasn't listening.
He was grumbling to himself as they clomped along.
Making me work!
Me, a pony!
I should be chasing ducks and eating oats and being brushed!
Eventually, Harper noticed his mood.
Don't be a grump, Webster, she said.
Part of growing up is helping around the farm.
You get to play all day every day.
You can carry a little salt here and there.
It's not so bad.
Webster snorted, but they kept on walking.
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Soon, they came to the stream.
It was wide and shallow, but a little deeper than usual because of all the spring rain they'd had.
Long ago, someone had built a sturdy wooden bridge across the water and the stream lapped at its bottom.
Okay, buddy, careful across now, said Harper.
The pony started across, slow and steady, but then he saw the chance to enact his plan.
He crossed one hoof in front of the other and pretended to trip and stumble.
Whoops, I'm falling, oh no, Webster said dramatically and threw himself into the stream.
Webster, no!
Harper cried, but it was too late.
By the time the pony stood up and shook himself dry, the saddlebags were empty.
All the salt had washed away.
Oh, man, she said.
We lost all the salt.
Well, I guess we better head home then.
Webster, his plan having worked perfectly.
Pretended to be embarrassed, but he couldn't quite hide the prance in his step.
Harper's mother and father were sad about the salt, but they understood that accidents happen, so they let it go.
Webster spent the rest of the day running through the fields and chasing ducks and eating oats and fell asleep early as Harper brushed his coat and mane.
The next day he woke up ready for more playing and was shocked when he was once again loaded with saddlebags of salt.
All right now, Father said, tightening the final strap.
Be extra careful on the bridge this time.
No more falling in the stream.
Extra careful, Harper agreed.
But Webster was still upset about losing his playtime.
He carried the load of salt through the fields and onto the road and got himself ready for the bridge.
Slow and steady now, the girl said, taking the reins in one hand and holding on to the pony's mane with the other.
They stepped onto the bridge with a clip-clop and slowly made it halfway across.
Good, good so far.
Webster tried to stumble, but Harper had too good a grip.
There was no way he could get into the water without taking her down, too.
So that's exactly what he did.
Oh, no!
I'm tripping!
The pony whinnied, and he stumbled right into his girl.
She yelped and he neighed and together they splashed into the stream.
Harper came up spluttering and Webster came up shaking and defeated, they made their way back to the farm.
This time though, Harper had her suspicions.
She knew her pony was lazy and loved to play, and she realized that maybe the falls weren't so accidental.
They got home and Webster ran through the fields and chased the ducks and got a good brushing to clean his wet coat and mane.
But the next day, when he woke up, he once again had the saddlebags loaded onto his back.
Aw, this again?
He groaned at Harper, who rubbed his nose.
Listen, I can tell you don't like it, but if you didn't fall in the stream, we'd be done already.
It's just once a week to help out the family.
Let's just get it done this time and come home, okay?
Webster whinnied and pranced, but he was already thinking about the splash he was going to make in the stream.
They crossed the fields and the road and made their way to the bridge, where Harper paused, grabbed the pony's head gently and looked into his eyes.
Careful this time, she said.
You're not falling in, I'm not falling in, and we're going to make it to the market.
No more accidents, okay?
If ponies could blush, Webster would have right then.
He realized Harper was on to his tricks.
But even still, he just wanted to go back and play.
Even a couple hours of work to earn his oats and help the family didn't seem fair to the lazy pony.
So when they started across Harper, holding his reins and his mane as tight as she could, he once again pretended to stumble.
Watch out, he whinnied.
I'm falling.
Oh, no.
He splashed into the stream and stood up again, shaking out his hair.
But something was wrong this time.
Instead of the salt washing away, the saddlebags felt even heavier than ever.
Oh, I told you not to fall in.
Harper cried, grabbing his reins and leading him to the far side of the bridge, away from the farm and towards the market.
We weren't carrying salt this time.
Oh, not salt, Webster neighed.
This time we're carrying sponges, Harper said, looking at her pony with a sly smile.
For a moment, Webster was mad he had been tricked.
The sponges had soaked up the water and gotten extra heavy.
But then he realized he'd been the one trying to trick his family, and he felt a little guilty.
Oh, you okay, buddy?
Harper asked.
Webster nuzzled at his girl, licking her face from chin to hair in apology.
She laughed and threw her arms around his neck.
Oh, that's a good pony, she said.
Here, I'll help you out and we'll get to the market together.
She pulled off the saddlebags and squeezed the water out of the sponges before loading them back in, and they got to the market and sold them all in no time.
And from that day on, once a week, the girl and the formerly lazy pony would make their way to the market and sell their salt.
After he did his little chore, Webster was free to run through the fields and chase the ducks and get his coat and mane brushed and braided.
Best of all, the days he had to work, he always got an extra big helping of oats.
And Webster thought they tasted even better knowing that he'd earned them.
Today's story, The Lazy Pony, was an adaptation of an Aesop's fable, written for you by Daniel Hines and performed for you by me, Amanda Weldon.
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