'But I want a donkey,' Mattie said stubbornly.
Her brother Tom sighed. He was nine now and felt quite grown up, what with helping in the milking parlour and feeding calves. Mattie could be a bit of a pain at times. Perhaps he shouldn't have let on that their Mum and Dad had been talking about a first pony for her.
'Nobody has a donkey to ride. At least not in this country,' he explained patiently.
'But I don't want to ride it. Just look after it,' said Mattie.
Tom shrugged his shoulders. 'I've got beasts to see to,' he said dissmissively and walked away. As he crossed the yard he called over his shoulder. 'Expect they'll talk about it at supper time.'
Her father looked down at his empty plate and cleared his throat. 'Your mother and I have been talking about what you said the other day. You know".
'I said I wanted a donkey,' said Mattie helpfully.
'Er ... so you did. You had been talking about donkeys in the Sunday School. Joseph leading the donkey to the stable with Mary up".
'That was a long time ago, Christmas, but that's when I started thinking about donkeys. I've been finding out about them ever since. They live ever such a long time and are very friendly.'
Her father seemed to be at a loss for words but everyone was looking at him so he said. 'Your mother and I, we thought a pony would be better. You could hardly pitch up at the pony club on a donkey, now could you?'
'But I don't want to go to the pony club,' said Mattie, beginning to feel stubborn. 'I just want a donkey to look after. They have nice faces and lovely long ears. And' she added encouragingly, 'they don't eat as much as ponies.'
Her father was beginning to fidget with impatience but her mother cut in to say. 'I see what Mattie means, she wants a donkey for a pet. We can talk about it again. I was thinking of a weekend at the seaside before harvest starts. What about that?'
Mattie clapped her hands delightedly but her father grumbled. 'We're a bit busy. I don't know' and Tom was a bit doubtful because of feeding the calves, but her mother said cheerfully. 'That's settled then. Next weekend.'
As Mattie settled to learn some spelling at the cleared kitchen table she heard her mother and father talking as they washed the dishes in the back kitchen. Her father sounded a bit ruffled. 'It should be a Wesh pony. They all start with a Welsh pony.'
'I don't expect you did,' said her mother.
'No, I had a bike. A secondhand one. Things were different in those days.'
'And Tom?'
'You know as well as I do, he wanted a JCB, a real one. He had to make do with a replica.'
'Well one little donkey on the place would hardly hurt anything.' At least, thought Mattie, her mum was on her side.
'I just don't see why our daughter should have a donkey when all the other kids have Welsh ponies.'
Mattie didn't want to hear any more. She called out. 'Could we have the door shut, I can't concentrate on my spelling.'
As they set off for the seaside Mattie was bubbling over with excitement. She thought Tom was excited too but he was making a show of worrying about his calves. Her father was going on about the work he could be doing. Her mother was saying. 'Don't worry. Your brother is seeing to things and a couple of days building sandcastles will do you good.'
It was on the Sunday that the donkeys appeared on the beach led by a lad, with a man on a piebald cob in front.
'Decent cob, that,' said Mattie's father as the man galloped it along the edge of the tide. 'Donkeys look a bit sorry for themseves.'
They advanced on the rides now lined up and waiting.
'I'd better go on the cob,' said Tom doubtfully. 'Though it looks a bit high.'
Mattie advanced on a rangy light coloured donkey. Its ears went back and it nipped the air in front of her. She diverted to a smaller grey which stood droop headed and disinterested. It was unresponsive to her cuddle and when she was mounted refused to move until encouraged from behind by the boy in charge. It moved slowly and jerkily with obvious reluctance. Mattie couldn't imagine Mary putting up with this sort of behaviour. She looked at Tom on his return journey bouncing uncomfortably at a trot.
On the way home Mattie's father was enthusing about the sandcastle he had built. 'Biggest on the beach by a mile,' he was saying.
'I told you it would do you good,' said his wife.
They were nearly home when Mattie, who had been thinking deeply said. 'I don't want a donkey.'
Her father was still in a good mood about his sandcastle.
'A Welsh pony maybe?'
Mattie thought this over. 'Can you get piebald Welsh ponies?'
© Ian Campbell Thomson, 1996