The other girls said that Daisy was a dumb name for a pony. They called her a cow. And yeah, she was small and brown and had a wide blaze down her face.
But she was the fastest pony on the farm, and Royal, who led the herd, liked to follow her around. Royal would be following Daisy, and all the other horses would be following Royal wherever Daisy went. There was something about her.
Because she was small, Daisy could canter behind a larger horse who was trotting, or even walking, so she did. If you let her go on the road, she could beat all the ponies and most of the horses. Royal was probably faster, although I never raced him. He once took off while our counselor was riding him--just took the bit in his mouth and ran--and he was fast. When I wanted her to run, I would rise up into a half-seat and Daisy would GO.
After the trail, I would take off her saddle and bridle and wash her down with cool water and then we'd walk. We were supposed to walk our horses until they were cool so they wouldn't get sick from drinking water while hot. Most girls walked their horses around in circles near the barn, but Daisy and I preferred to walk down the road. If I walked her to Wheelock's and back she was always cool. I didn't have to hold her lead rope, even. I just slung it over her neck and Daisy walked beside me and I would talk to her or sing to her or think long thoughts as we walked down the road in the New Hampshire summer.
We just understood each other.