She’d been making herself a sandwich, and had seen the note lying on the kitchen counter. It was obviously Pinkie’s doing. The note smelled strongly of frosting; it almost certainly had been attached to a baked good of some sort. Probably a cupcake—Pinkie had a very strange obsession with cupcakes, although she had a surprising inability to actually make them. At least, when she had assistance. Probably she could cook them well on her own, but whenever somepony offered her a helping hoof, her baking was a disaster.