“Yeah, I suppose.” He really didn’t suppose. How the hell was he supposed to know the minutiae of the meaning of the clothes ponies chose to wear? He had seen a few formal-looking mare dresses before. Once, on an emissary to a noble wedding, he had represented the king when he could not attend, another all the way back in Spurbay on a rather wealthy-looking family out to a formal occasion of some sort. Saddles were just a part of their clothing as far as he could tell. How was he supposed to know that the ones those mares wore had erotic implications?