But there's Jolly's horse; why don't you ride him?
Here he is.

We could go after tea." Val looked doubtfully at his trousered legs.
He had imagined them immaculate before her eyes in high brown boots and Bedford cords.
"I don't much like riding his horse," he said.

"He mightn't like it.
Besides, Uncle Soames wants to get back, I expect.

Not that I believe in buckling under to him, you know.

You haven't got an uncle, have you?
This is rather a good beast," he added, scrutinising Jolly's horse, a dark brown, which was showing the whites of its eyes.