What happens when a space pilot tries to tell the truth.

As Alice and Cynthia returned from the stables to the hall, Alice asked her friend, “Did you enjoy it?”
“That was the most fun I've ever had going so slowly.”
“What do you mean slowly?”
“You really feel you're moving when the horse canters. The wind and the noise, it's exhilarating. I've done.” She stopped.
“You've done what?”
“Nothing.”
“Cynthia, it isn't just your imagination is it? I can't stay friends with you if you keep hiding things.”
“I'm not sure you can handle the truth.”
“Try me.”
“Riding that mare was almost as much fun as the time I dodged rocks, rockets and blasts in my ship while the entire Cataxi navy followed me in hot pursuit. You only do that once or twice in a lifetime.”
“Imagining things again?”
“No. It happened. I told you I'd tell you the truth, but I expect you don't believe me.”
“Why only once in a lifetime?”
“Unless you're a better than half-decent pilot you crash. It was even a little closer for me than I'm wont to enjoy, but I'm not known as Cynthia the Invincible in border-space for nothing.”
“Cynthia, you really do read too many novels. I never thought I'd say this, because I hated it when my governess said it to me, but you have to rein in that imagination of yours. It will get you in trouble.”
“Alice, you asked me to tell you the truth. When my ship is repaired, I'll take you to see Mars or Saturn. Which would you prefer?”
“Stop it. You're being silly.”
“You'll see, but I'll stop now.”
Alice shyly added, “If we can't see them both, I'd like to see Mars.”
“Consider it a promise. Did you know what's for dinner. I'm famished with all this exercise.”