The girls make a promise

"I guess," said Susie.

"Then it's settled. You're one of us now. Come and have a look."

Violette beckoned Susie over to the window. She peeped through it, and gasped.

"W-what is it?"

"There's an eternal war," Violette told her, "between the harlequins and the clowns. Us harlequin girls are pretty, light and delicate, graceful as the clouds and lovely as the moon. We dance, we sing, we delight the world with feats of dance and acrobatics. It's us who have the finest show in the carnival!"

"Not the clowns."

"No. The clowns are just... silly. They hate us, because we're so much prettier and more graceful than them. So they're always playing these... tricks on us."

"Like what?"

"Oooh, I don't like to talk about it. It makes me so mad and frustrated just to think about all the horrible things the clowns do. Like... like putting itching powder in our underwear just before a show! Or replacing the net under our trapezes with a big vat of cold custard! Or sewing us new costumes out of sweat-soluble thread! They're awful!"

"So why is there..."

"Why is there a huge pile of panties in that room, at the back of clown HQ? I'll tell you why. It's because whenever the mood strikes them, the clowns break into our dressing rooms and steal our panties! Sometimes while we're still wearing them! And they spank us, and tickle us, and... well, sometimes they have sex with us, but don't tell anybody I said that."

"Why don't you complain to the management?"

"Oooh, that Mr. Trapp. Sometimes I almost think he actually wants the clowns to win! And don't get me started on Miss Trickett. If us harlequins ever take her prisoner, she's in for a very tough time."

Bonnie squeezed between the two of them, and poked her head through the window. "Yep," she said. "That's a huge pile of panties, all right. What are we waiting for? Let's get in there."