Cement Curls Tinkle

Stop running, says Terence.

I'm trotting, says Buster. It's what ponies do.

I'm in charge, says Terence. 

So prove it, says Buster.

Terence squeezes Buster's sides with his knees.

Ow! says Buster. What are you made of, cement?

Yes, says Terence. Can you please stop for one second?

Okay, says Buster. When I get to that tree.

Buster trots even faster, and stops suddenly, at the tree.

He looks across to where Madame Ponty and Belle are standing and no doubt watching.

But they are not watching.

Thank you, says Terence. I need to take off this helmet.

You can't, says Buster. You have to wear a helmet.

Something's loose inside it, says Terence.

Okay, says Buster. Take it off and shake it. 

But Terence can't get it off. Let alone shake it.

I'll help you, says Buster, if you give me my half of the pancake.

I swallowed it, says Terence.

You said it was stuck in your throat, says Buster.

It is, says Terence. And didn't you want the whole thing?

Buster had wanted the whole pancake.

But now, one half seems enough.

Okay, help me, says Terence.

Your helmet will probably come off as well, says Buster.

That will be useful, says Terence. 

Right now it would really be useful if Roo-kai would appear in the tree.

Because anyone can see that Buster is plotting.

If not what exactly.

Buster glances again at Belle and Madame Ponty, who are looking at Belle's phone for some reason.

(Perhaps Belle is showing Madame Ponty the waiter's Montmartre poem).

Buster backs away from the tree, stops, then gallops towards a low branch.

Ding! Crack! Tinkle!

Terence helmet is off, and so are a few of his curls.

They lie on the ground near the helmet.

But no pancake has issued from Terence.

Buster is not good at science.

Now Roo-kai flutters down.

Yes. He was in the tree, and did nothing.