The Tales of Tiptoes Lightly (2 page)

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” said Cactus in a grumpy voice.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME TODAY?”

“Oh, Mr. Cactus,” said Tiptoes, “one of your thorns
has caught Bee’s Buzz and won’t let go. Bee is very sad.”

“WELL, HE SHOULDN’T HAVE COME SO NEAR ME!” grumped
Cactus. “WHY DO YOU THINK I HAVE SO MANY THORNS?”

“But you also have  beautiful flowers,” said
Jeremy Mouse. “They look so lovely and smell so yummy that Bee just had to land
on them. That’s what bees do! That’s their job! Please let Bee’s Buzz go.”

“Yes, please! Please!” begged Tiptoes. “You really do
have beautiful flowers, and bees must do their job or they wouldn’t be bees.
Please let Bee’s Buzz go.”

“Oh, okay,” agreed Cactus. “I’m really sorry, but its
very hard being a cactus. I have to be grumpy the whole time. Today I was
‘specially grumpy as everyone was stopping to look at my flowers and I don’t
like folks coming so close.” Then he wiggled his thorn and Bee’s Buzz fell with
a plop onto Bee’s back.

“Buzz, buzz!” said Bee. “Buzz, buzz!” He was happy to
have his Buzz back. He danced a bee dance, flew high in the air, and buzzed
back to his hive straight away. He was a busy bee and had lots of work to do.

Tiptoes Sings to Tadpole

Tiptoes sat on a lily pad at the edge of Soggy Mire.
She swished her feet in the water and sang her Water Lily Song:

“I wish to be a water lily

A-floating on a pool,

And have the goldfish

Swish my feet

And make me feel all cool.”

“Where’s Jeremy Mouse?” asked Frog, leaping from lily
pad to lily pad to squat next to Tiptoes.

“He’s over there,” Tiptoes replied, pointing to the
far shore of Soggy Mire. “He’s hungry and looking for seeds. What are you
doing?”

“Nothing,” said Frog. “Just sitting.”

So Tiptoes and Frog sat for a while. Sitting is fun—if
you know how to sit. You have to sit very still and watch.

A dragonfly lit on a bulrush, colors glistening off
his wings. Later, a blackbird with red bars on her wings wanted to land on the
same bulrush and the dragonfly had to move. He zipped this way and that over
the water.

“Dragonfly is the best flier in the world,” said
Tiptoes. “He can even fly backwards.”

“He is a good flier,” replied Frog, “but he can’t plop
into the water like I can.” Frog was very proud of his splash.

They sat some more. The air was still and hot. A
tadpole wiggled up from the murky bottom of Soggy Mire. He wiggled around the
lily pad looking at them the whole time.

“Can I came out now?” asked Tadpole.

Tiptoes laughed. “You have to wait, dear tadling. You
don’t have legs yet.”

“And you need legs to hop and plop into the water
properly,” interjected Frog.

“But I want to be grown up like Frog,” said Tadpole,
“and sit on lily pads in the sun.”

“Be patient,” said Tiptoes, and sang the tadpole a
Tadpole Song:

“Robble-dee-rhoom,

Robble-dee-rhoom,

Wee tadpole soon

Your legs will pop

And learn to hop

And your tail will wane

Like the moon-dee-rhoom,

Your tail will wane

Like the moon.”

“That’s a good Tadpole Song,” declared Frog. “I’m
going to sing it as a lullaby to my tadlings tonight,” and he hopped and
plopped into the water with a beautiful plish.

“Goodbye, Tiptoes,” called Tadpole, wiggling after
Frog as fast as he could go.

“It’s time to get back to our boat,” thought Tiptoes.
“Jeremy Mouse! Jeremy Mouse!” she called over the pond. “Where are you? It’s
time go.”

“Here I am,” waved Jeremy Mouse from a clump of marsh
grass.

They pushed their boat out into the water and floated
gently down Running River. Over the waves they went, up and down, up and down.
The Sun went to bed and mist floated over the water. Frogs croaked in the reeds.
They were singing their new tadpole lullaby—but to us it would only sound like,
‘ribbet, ribbet.’

In the forest, Owl was calling, “Whoo!  Who are you?”
as Jeremy Mouse and Tiptoes went to sleep, rocking in their boat on Running
River.

Tiptoes woke up. The Sun was smiling. Running River
was rocking the boat to and fro, to and fro. Jeremy Mouse was still asleep,
curled up in a tiny ball. His tail was not around his head. It had uncurled
itself and hung over the edge of the boat. Tiptoes leaned over to see if it was
in the water. It was—and wiggling just a little bit like a worm, and Pike, the
Big Fish, had opened his mouth to bite it!

Tiptoes grabbed the tail and pulled with all her
might. The fish’s toothy mouth closed with a SNAP! Tiptoes fell backwards in
the boat and Jeremy Mouse woke with a scream.

“SQUEEEEEEK!!!” he cried, jumping up and pulling his
tail out of her hands. “You don’t have to pull my tail to wake me up, you
know!”

“I’m sorry,” said Tiptoes, “but Pike, the Big Fish,
thought your tail was a worm and was going to eat it. So I pulled it quickly
and fell over. I didn’t mean to wake you up so rudely.”

Jeremy Mouse looked at the Sun. The Sun was laughing.
He looked at his tail. It was still in one piece—though perhaps a little
sore—and the end was wet, and it did look just a little bit like a worm. So he
helped Tiptoes up, and said, “I’m hungry! Where can we get breakfast?”

No matter what happened to Jeremy Mouse he did not go
long without being hungry. He was a Growing Mouse.

“Let’s visit Pine Cone and Pepper Pot before it gets
too late,” said Tiptoes, and off they went.

Pine Cone and Pepper Pot were not  at home. They lived
underneath an Old Pine Tree in the forest.

“Where are they?” wondered Tiptoes.

“I’m hungry,” said Jeremy Mouse, sniffing around the
kitchen. “Look, they left pancakes.”

On the table sat two of the biggest pancakes Tiptoes
had ever seen: golden brown, perfectly cooked and covered with butter and maple
syrup.

“Oh, they are so sniffable!” said Jeremy Mouse. “They
make my tail curl. Let’s eat.”

Tiptoes, being just a little fairy, only ate a tiny
bit of her pancake. She didn’t like eating too much because it was so much
harder to fly. But Jeremy Mouse didn’t fly—he did not even like to fly—and he
began to nibble. And as he nibbled he turned the plate round and round,
nibbling at the edge of the pancake. The pancake stayed perfectly round, but
got smaller and smaller until there was no pancake at all.