"Happy birthday, Zenobia!"

Zenobia bat Zabaai, now six, smiled happily back at her family. She was a lovely child, tall for her age, with long unruly dark hair that her mother had coaxed into ringlets for this auspicious occasion, and shining silver-gray eyes. Her simply draped white tunic with its pale blue silk rope belt set off her light golden skin.

Zabaai ben Selim swept his only daughter up into his arms, and gave her a resounding kiss. "Don't you want to know what your presents are, my precious one?"

Zenobia giggled and looked mischievously at her adored father. "Of course I do, Papa, but Mama said I must not ask until they were offered."

Zabaai ben Selim was unable to contain himself any longer. "Ali," he roared, "bring in my daughter's birthday gift!"

Into the open courtyard of the house came her father's favorite slave leading a dainty, prancing storm-gray mare, bridled in red leather with tinkling brass bells, and wearing a small matching saddle.

Zenobia was speechless with surprise and delight. More than anything, she had wanted a fine Arab horse for her very own. She had spent the last six months hinting at it none too gently to her father. "Oh, Papa!" she finally whispered.

"Then you like her?" Zabaai ben Selim teased his beloved only daughter.

"Oh, yes! Yes, Papa! Yes!"

"Zabaai, you did not tell me!" Iris looked worried. "A horse? She is far too little."