“What are you about, boy?” challenged the colonel.

“I’ve come to fight. It’s my country too!” declared the daring young man. The assembled riders sniggered.

“Don’t be daft. Ye cannot ride into battle on that…that…”

“It’s a draft horse, sir, plenty strong and fast too.” More giggles rippled through the ranks.

“Look…what’s yer name, lad?”

“Yerfle Pons of the Grennich.”

The colonel wrinkled his rouged nose, “Bleh, rather common, boring name, isn’t it?”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t fight.”

“Look, don’t you see the difference. What are we all riding?”

Yerfle sighed, “Unicorns, I know. But Fletsy here…”

“Who?”

“Fletsy, my horse. He’s just as fast as any unicorn and stronger, better for battle!” The riders really burst out laughing at that.

As they charged off, the colonel yelled back, “He’s just too drab for battle!” And the warfaring host rode on in their glittering sequened armor, pastel pendants waving.

Shoulders slumped, Yerfle could only bemoan, “My country has the gayest army ever.”