Moments earlier.
Mays kept behind Avid as Avid stood, uncertain and fragile, in the doorway. The confrontation left Mays exasperated and shakey--and then, her company was gone. Mays didn't pursue, taking the notion to 'dine with [them]' as a formality rather than a sincere invitation. She was sure that her issue wasn't worth alerting everyone and souring their morning; and that her first impression was dreadful. Worse, what if rumors spread? Honesty deteriorates among crowds.
She instinctively stepped out of the doorway so as not to be a melodramatic roadblock, but she otherwise stood still and, with effort, slowed her breath as the flow of ponies and noise gently increased. Alone in the herd, Mays wondered if her outburst was for nothing--if she had been ephemeral and ineffectual as a crashing wave. The sea erodes shorelines, she assured herself, but she knew she didn't want to wait that long. For now, though, her stomach felt emptier. She found her seat among the artisans of New Appleloosa--more accurately, the craftsponies and agriculturists.
New Appleloosa doesn't have artisans, observed Mays into her mug of water. What use have we for shoddy gems? she interrogated of the corn 'n peas porridge. There is a quarry within a day's travel of here, and it's ours, she silently informed nopony in particular across the table. A gesture like this is wasteful and theatric, she lamented to the chandelier above. Why don't you see that? she wanted to ask Avid. Or the king himself?
"Mays?" A stallion's voice cleared the haze.
"What--What?" mumbled Mays through a mouth of food.
"I said the corn. Is. Delicious!" he emphasized. This was Spring Sprout: connoisseur and hydroponics apprentice. He was trying to get her attention from around the shoulders of an older pony, one much less enchanted with food. Mays peeked over and looked at his plate and saw a bowl. "You only have porridge", she indicated, but Sprout held his hooves high enough to show the half-eaten cob.
"Oh." Mays bashfully shrugged. At least my 'talent' isn't entirely a curse. I could live on the taste of corn for the rest of my life.
Spring Sprout looked determinedly at the cob, turning it slightly as if to glean some hidden secret. "You have magic hooves, you know. I wish I could make it look easy like you earthies. Some ponies think to be envious of us and unicorns... But you could make fruit grow out of a crack in a boulder. Who wouldn't be jealous of that?" Mays was sure he hearkened back to Appleloosian origin, where ponies simply moved in and set up tree-camp.
Mays looked at her 'magic' hooves. She wouldn't care that they were magic if ponies stopped being Honest. Seeing no viable resolve through further engagement, she decided to reserve this conundrum for the Temple. Seeing the Father would cool her blood.
From behind her toes she spotted Avid calmly toiling on her gift. Knitting? Is that one of the jewels? Maybe they won't be such a waste, she thought to herself with the relief that maybe she didn't need to feel so indignant. (Alas: as with the recession of the waves, so too do these glimmers fade.) Mays wet her throat with the last of her water, watching Avid be corralled to her place next to... the king...
Now what is going on here? They weren't just walking together in the hallways, and his invite to dine with "us" was... quite literal and immediate. There is some favoring going on for this mare. Not only that, but if nopony else noticed Avid's emotional turbulence, Mays did absolutely. She searched the eyes of the ponies around Avid, reading for a clue, but there was no clear antagonist. However, she thought, if there were a relationship between them...
An idea sprang--one token of peace that she thought was sure to get her on Avid's side. Swiping a quill from a neighboring author (despite his stammered protest) Mays wrote a message on her cloth napkin ("Those may stain, you know!" he blurted).
"Sprout!"
"Mm'yees?" dipped his voice as he slid into view from behind the pony.
Mays bit the napkin and nodded upward at him. "Gish diss to duh Generoshity h'ony."
Sprout diligently perked up toward the herd of guests. "The Generrr...?"
Mays struck the air with her nose in the direction of Avid. "Duh h'ink one."
"Ohhh!" He exclaimed in a not-inside-voice. "The curly pink one!" Thankfully his wings minded their manners as he stepped off his stool and circled around to Avid with an eagerness that suggested... infatuation? Mays perished the thought. Meanwhile, the quillpony stared at her until his belonging was returned.
The message read "If you want to impress him, beat him in chess" and was signed with a crude symbol of... corn.
