Lucy twirled across the kitchen floor in her socks. Her feet slid, and her arms swooped, and she hummed a little tune while Mama stirred the soup. Papa tapped a spoon on the pot like a drum.
"One last dance," said Mama, "and then it's bath, pajamas, and bed."
Lucy gave one last big twirl. She twirled so well that she twirled right into a pretend picnic, the kind you can only find while dreaming. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she was standing in a garden.
It was a soft, glowing garden. Little lamps shaped like moons hung from the branches. And the flowers were humming. Red tulips hummed low and slow. Yellow daisies hummed high and bright. Together, they made a song as gentle as a lullaby.
"Hello, Lucy," said a small pony beside her. She was the color of warm toast, with a creamy mane. "My name is Biscuit. I have been waiting for you. I brought a picnic."
Under a big apple tree, a blue blanket lay spread on the grass. On it sat a basket with a checkered cloth. Lucy clapped her hands.
"Before we eat," said Biscuit, "we must go and fetch the berries for our tea. They grow on the far side of the garden. Come, ride on my back."
Lucy climbed up, and Biscuit walked slowly along a path of smooth round stones. The flowers swayed as they passed. Pink poppies hummed a sleepy tune. Lavender hummed one so soft that Lucy had to lean close to hear it.
They came to a little wooden gate with a ribbon tied on it. Behind the gate, the path curved down a hill, and at the bottom sparkled a pond with water lilies.
"Oh!" said Lucy. "A pond! Can we go and splash?"
Biscuit gave a soft whinny. "Just before you came, a voice sang out from far away. It was Mama's voice, and it sang, 'Lucy, stay near the gate, my love.' She did not say why. But she wants you close."
Lucy looked at the shining pond. It was very pretty. Her toes wiggled.
Then she hopped down from Biscuit's back and sat on the grass beside the gate. "Then we will stay right here," she said.
"Wonderful," said Biscuit. "Let us see what we can find without going far."
Lucy looked around. Tucked beside the gate stood a bush full of round purple berries. They were the very berries for the tea. And right beside the bush, a row of bluebells hummed a song that sounded just like the one she had danced to in the kitchen.
"Biscuit! Listen!" said Lucy.
She picked the berries one by one and dropped them in the basket. Biscuit nodded his head to the beat. Lucy hummed along, and then she danced a little jig, and the bluebells hummed louder, and the daisies joined in, and soon the whole garden was swaying together.
Then something lovely happened. The water lilies from the pond floated up the path on a small, gentle stream, right to the gate, as if the pond had come to visit. They bobbed at Lucy's feet, pink and white and glowing.
"Look," whispered Lucy. "The pond came to us."
"So it did," said Biscuit, with a twinkle in his eye.
They carried the berries back to the blue blanket under the apple tree. The picnic was the best Lucy had ever seen. There were tiny sandwiches cut into stars, and sweet apple slices, and warm berry tea in acorn cups. Lucy fed Biscuit a sugar-cube-sized bit of apple, and he munched it happily.
The moon lamps glowed softer. The flowers hummed slower, and slower still. Lucy lay back on the blanket, and Biscuit lay down beside her, warm as a loaf of bread.
"Mmm," said Lucy, and her eyes grew heavy.
The humming grew quieter, like a song coming from a faraway room. The tulips hummed low, and the daisies hummed low, and the bluebells hummed the kitchen song one last time.
And then Lucy was in her own bed, tucked under her quilt, with her pillow cool and soft. The soup smell still drifted up the stairs. Mama's hand smoothed her hair, and Papa's good-night kiss landed on her forehead.
"Sweet dreams, Lucy," whispered Mama.
Lucy smiled, still humming just a little. Her toes were warm, her blanket was snug, and she fell fast asleep.
馃寵 The End 馃寵
This story was written by AI for an example child named Lucy, and it passed the same safety check every Tuck-In Tales story gets before it's sent.