His mother listened to all the stories the little horse told, but she could tell he was leaving some parts out. The little horse did not want to mention how thirsty he had gotten, how foolishly he had wandered into the desert without supplies, precautions, or companions.
When the little horse asked if he could go on another adventure, his mother had something to say about it. “I think you are not as ready for adventure as you believe you are. A little horse on the loose in the wide world can get hurt,” she told him. “If you are going to go wandering all over the world, you will need to go with someone who has a little more experience than you have had so far. Someone with common sense. Someone a bit older.”
The little horse stamped his hooves and shook his main, but his mother was adamant. No more wandering off on his own. Just because he had existed in the world a long time, she said, he was not as grown up as he thought he was.
Restlessly the little horse paced back and forth on the bookshelf. He peeked in one book and then another, but he could hardly concentrate. The only book that held his attention was called Mademoiselle Misfortune. It was an old book, but it was full of good humor and adventure as well. It took place in France. How he longed to visit France! He begged the au pair to teach him to speak French. She tried to oblige, but her French was quite rusty. “bonjour” and “au revoir” and “merci beaucoup” were about all she remembered. And “ou est le toilette?”