Team Play by Bonnie Bryant Page A

more to her liking—namely, horses.
    “Come on over this way,” Carole called. She walked ahead of the carts and found a place for the boys to park them in the shade. As soon as the carts pulled to a halt, kids began appearing from the hospital.
    Some were in pajamas and robes, and some were in jeans. A few of them were actually dressed up. There were three kids with crutches, five in wheelchairs and one lying flat on her back on a gurney. The kids who could walk best were pushing wheelchairs for those who couldn’t. Some people might have thought that the one thing these kids had in common was that they were all sick. When Carole looked at them, she saw that what they all had in common was that they loved the ponies.
    “What’s his name?”
    “Can I pat him?”
    “Will he bite me?”
    “Does he go fast?”
    “Does he really like carrots?”
    They had lots of questions and Carole sensed that all of them were eager to have a chance to ride in the carts and hug the ponies.
    “I think we’re going to have to get to work here, boys,” Carole told Enrico, Marco, Andre, and Gian. With that, they looked to see how they were going to load the kids into the pony carts under the supervision of Miss Bellanger, who had come to help.
    It was a tricky business. The carts hadn’t been designed with wheelchairs, casts, and crutches in mind. Carole found a way to do it all with the help of her Italian crew. They fashioned a ramp from some boards to make it easier for the kids to get into the carts. The kidswere both eager and patient. Carole found that their patience was rewarded. Looking at their faces, she knew that it didn’t matter what problems the kids were taking up the ramp with them. Those problems were all left behind once they were strapped into the cart. For once, they were just children, having fun in a pony cart.
    The Italian boys were having a blast, too. Each cart had one Italian equestrian champion with the reins in his hand and another walking ahead of the cart, leading the way. The children loved their glamorous outfits and their formal manner. They even loved their Italian accents.
    “Hey, can you sing
Santa Lucia
?” one of the children asked. “We learned it in school last year when we were studying Marco Polo and Venice. Don’t all the gondoliers in Venice sing
Santa Lucia
all the time?”
    Marco grinned. Clearly, he enjoyed challenges. “All the time,” he assured the boy. “And since my name is also Marco, you know I must be from Venice—” Carole knew this was a fib. Marco was actually from Florence. “—so my friends and I will sing for you,” Marco finished.
    At once, all four of the Italian boys began singing
Santa Lucia
. It took them a while to pick a key they all liked and two of them didn’t seem very familiar with the words, but a couple of the children knew them in English and joined along.
    “What’s going on over here?” Stevie asked Carole,drawn to the course by the strange, more or less musical, sounds. “Did somebody’s dog get sick?”
    “Oh, no, it’s just our Italian guests, being pony cart singers, or something like that,” Carole said.
    Stevie stood by her and watched for a few minutes. Seeing the children smile and sing and enjoy themselves made her feel warm and happy inside. Carole put her arm across Stevie’s shoulder and gave her a hug. “You’re a miracle worker, you know,” she said.
    “It’s not me,” Stevie said. “It’s them.” She gestured toward the carts as they circled the field.
    “Do you mean the ponies, the carts, the children, or the Italian boys?” Carole asked.
    “All of it,” Stevie said.
    Carole thought she was right.

“T HE CHILDREN ARE having a wonderful time, aren’t they?” Kate asked Stevie.
    “Yes, and so are our Italian visitors,” she said. “It’s great to listen to them. But I think the most fun of all is about to come. Has Christine finished the sign?”
    “Yes. They put it up about five minutes ago. Look,