Pip hopped through the living room one sunny afternoon.
Stomp went one little paw on the floorboard beside the sofa. Creak-squeak. The board wobbled.
Pip looked at the board. Looked at the paw. Looked back.
Pip pushed the board with one paw. Nothing. Both paws. Still nothing.
Pip fetched a wooden ruler and jammed it under the edge. Pushed down hard — creak — the board lifted! A sliver of golden light peeked through.
Pip lay flat and peered through the crack. Glowing mushrooms! And a tiny door with a silver keyhole.
Pip's ears went wide. Scramble! Standing at last, both paws pressed against the warm little door.
Pip nudged the door with a nose. Click. It swung open. Sweet buttery air floated up.
Pip grabbed the edge and pulled. The door groaned and gave way. Down went the stairs — spiraling into glowing light.
Pip crept to the edge and peered down. Mushroom lamps lined the winding path far below.
Pip took a big breath. Smiled. First step down — one careful paw after another.
Down, down, down went Pip, into the glow, one step at a time.
