        She smiled as Apple Bloom carefully unwrapped a chipped plate wrapped in an old newspaper.  One of the Oranges had painted it—it was supposed to be the orchard, but it looked like lichen that had measles instead.  For a few years, it had been proudly displayed on the mantle before each family reunion, to be re-wrapped after all the guests had left, but nopony had bothered after Apple Bloom was born—it had gone from a conversation piece to the punchline of an overtold joke.