In time, Mr. and Mrs. Baker had a daughter (Christina said). Her name was Jane. She was a charming little girl, and her parents were very proud of her. She was kind and obedient, and did her chores faithfully, always with a cheerful smile. She never gave her parents any cause to worry.
The thing that Jane loved most in all the world was to go for a ride in Mr. Baker’s carriage, pulled by their beautiful golden palomino pony, Daffodil. One day Daffodil gave birth to a foal, and Jane begged to be allowed to take care of the tiny, spirited animal. She named her Sunbeam, and fed her and groomed her and took her out for exercise every day. Sunbeam was a paint, with a glossy white coat decorated with golden patches. Jane loved her very much.
Sadly, when Sunbeam was just six months old, she took sick with a fever and died. Jane was heartbroken. She spent days in her bedroom, crying and pining for her lost friend. Her mother and father didn’t know how to console her. They hoped that as the days passed by, she would get over her grief and once again become happy and carefree. But that didn’t happen.
One day, a Friday afternoon at four o’clock, Jane sat in her bedroom, thinking about Sunbeam. She began to sing a little song, one that she made up herself.
“Painted pony, painted pony, what a lovely sunny day,” Jane sang. “Painted pony, painted pony, how you love to run and play.”
And Guaryntis, who was out strolling on the other side of the border between Here and Everywhere Else, heard her singing and poked his head into Jane’s bedroom.
Now Guaryntis wasn’t a dragon in those days. That happened later, after he grew mean and selfish. When he looked into Jane’s bedroom that afternoon, he appeared as a gentle old man with a white beard and kindly brown eyes. And he said, “Hello, Jane. That’s a beautiful song you’re singing.”
Jane knew she mustn’t talk to strangers. She ignored Guaryntis and made up a new verse to her song.
“Painted pony, painted pony, running ’neath the sky of blue. Painted pony, painted pony, how I wish I could be you.”
And the old man’s face twisted in an evil, crafty smile. “You can be a pony if you want to,” he said softly.
Jane looked at him in surprise. She became so excited that she forgot the rule about not talking to strangers. “Can I really?” she said. “How?”
“It’s easy,” Guaryntis said. “Just take my hand, and we’ll go where little girls can be ponies whenever they like.”
Jane pulled back. “I’m not allowed to go anywhere without my mother and father,” she said.
“You can come right back,” Guaryntis said, “any time you want.”
And Jane, who was so sad and lonely over the loss of Sunbeam, stood up and gave her tiny hand to Guaryntis, and the purple mist swirled around them and carried them off to Partequineus.