And besides the stores, there were food-wagons up and down the street, run by enterprising ponies who dreamed of having restaurants of their own. Indeed, one of the nearby restaurants so favored by the nobles had had such a humble beginning. Probably none of them remembered the colt who had doggedly pulled a wagon one size too big for him to the street corner every morning; now he was stooped with age and his mane shot with grey. . . .