The end of the day was good. Dapple-gray stood looking over the Plantation, absently smoothing the fur on his chest. He was tired, but it was good tiredness.
His teeth felt satisfied, that he had done so much work.
All-day he and Curly-locks and their children, and Cross-Patch and Dame Trot and their children, and the others, had worked. They had cut back branches and shoots and removed dead limbs.