Benny chased his bright red ball across the sunny meadow. It bounced over daisies and darted toward the tall grass at the forest edge. The ball gave one last wobble and disappeared into the green.
Benny pushed into the tall grass, tugging at the blades. His paws got scratched and the grass tickled his nose. Rustle, rustle, rustle — nothing.
Benny marched to the bluebird, the frog, and the field mouse, who all scrambled to help. The bluebird pointed with her wing, the frog croaked directions, and the mouse scampers off with Benny hot on his tail.
The trio reached a big oak tree where the mouse vanished into a dark hollow. Benny pressed his nose against the rough bark and shivered, then crawled forward into the shadows.
Benny waited and waited. Then the field mouse returned, and in its paws it held something bright and round.
Benny grabbed the ball and hugged it close. The fuzzy rubber was warm and smelled like earth, and he let out a huge breath that turned into a giggle.
That evening, Benny rolled into his cozy den with his bright red ball tucked under his arm. He slept the deepest, happiest sleep, dreaming of meadows.
The next morning, Benny woke to a surprise. His bright red ball was gone — but there, sitting on his doorstep, was a fresh gift from the forest.
The bluebird landed on Benny's shoulder. The frog gave a happy croak from a lily pad nearby. The field mouse waved from behind a leaf. They had found the ball together — and that was the real magic.
From that day on, whenever Benny's ball rolled away, he knew exactly who to ask. And they always, always helped him find it.