There's a pony in the cold shed by a neighbour Ashley.

Every day, at the same time, Rosie Horton would ask her parents the same question.

Please, Mummy, please may I have a pony?

Please, Daddy, please may I have a pony?

And every day, at about the same time, her parents would give her the same reply.

No, Rosie, don't be silly. Where on earth would we find a pony?

So Rosie would run upstairs to her little attic bedroom.

The one with the pink wallpaper and the dancing horse frees,

and drag out all her books, especially the ones called How to Look After a Pony,

and where to find a pony. She would study them with fierce determination.

Often, a tear would leak out of one eye and land on the page with a big plop.

It seemed to Rosie that her books were stiff with dried tears.

Then one day, one amazing day, something happened.

Rosie had been resting her head on her hands and staring out of the window at the driving heavy rain,

when she noticed a kaleidoscope of colour moving at the end of the street.

As it came closer, she saw people and animals with wagons.

It was the circus leaving town.

Rosie clapped her hands and wiggled with excitement.

It was such a sight to behold. The lions angry at the miserable weather

were rattling their cages and upsetting the elephants,

who trumpeted like an angry orchestra.

The bad tempered acrobats were running up and down and shouting instructions.

...