Sandy opened his mouth to refuse, and a familiar tingle kept him from fibbing. One pony could only cover so much beach on his own. He shook the sand from his back and scanned the area. "No worries, no worries," he replied distractedly. "Let's see...ya'll could...no, not that...maybe a little touch-up on...oh, I really should do that myself...ah-ha! Driftwood!" He tapped on a grody-looking bit of washed-up debris. "Ya'll can clean up an' pick up driftwood, then chuck it on into th' woods."
They could help, and he could have his thoughts; what could possibly go wrong?