The reed basket slides off the muddy bank and into the water. Splash!
The water carries the basket away. Night falls. Bump… bump… bump.
Musa loops his little finger through the reed rope. Above him hangs a big, big moon.
Morning. The basket bumps against the stone steps of the palace. Thud!
Musa giggles and wriggles. Suddenly, a man nudges the basket gently: "A reed basket… at the palace gate?!"
Big hands lift Musa up. A long, long silence. Then: ahhhh…
A gentle hand strokes his hair. Musa closes his eyes and smiles.
Musa is grown up now. He stands on the banks of the Nile and tugs on an old reed rope between his fingers. "Rustle… crunch… crunch."
He shakes his head and smiles. Cold water touches his feet.
He lets go of the rope and walks home.
