The prince sat for tea with his mother, the White Queen. She had excepted her son for what he was.
"Dear, how are you doing?" the Queen asked calmly.
"I'm fine, mother," Stallion smiled sweetly,"and how are you?"
"Well, age has started to catch up with me," she smiled.
"What, no, never, you are the image of beauty," Stallion held his mother's hand in his.
The Queen put her other hand on his and kissed his cheek. Her son was always so loving toward her.
"You are so kind," she said to her son.
"Well, it's true," Stallion opened his arms to hug her,"because your my mother."
The Queen hugged him to her and kissed his forehead.
"Of course, I am, and you are my son."