Soon he led out the dearest little brown-and-white Shetland pony—no bigger than a cricket.
“Oh, oh, oh!” cried Tiny. “I’d like to kiss him!”
The little old lady laughed delightedly.
“He’s yours,” she cried. “Get out and try to ride him.”
Martin helped her into the wee saddle, the liveryman gave her a tiny whip and the pony cantered all the way down the street and back again.
“Oh, I never thought I’d own a real live pony,” sighed Tiny, patting the little thing’s neck. “It seems too good to be true.”
“Let us go down to the candy shop,” said Tiny’s fairy godmother.
The candy shop wasn’t far away and when they drew up outside, Martin fastened the pony to the lamp-post. The little old lady took Tiny into the shop.
“Here, dear,” she said, opening her purse, “are two dollars. Spend them both. You can have all the candy and ice cream you want.”
So Tiny ate five plates of ice cream and three boxes of candy.