Maisy, Gordon, and the Puddle Parade

The royal drum went boom-boom, and Maisy’s parade marched straight into a puddle.

“Step around it!” called Princess Maisy, lifting her yellow boots. She hopped to the left. The drummers hopped after her. The dancers hopped after them, waving ribbons that swooshed like little flags.

But Gordon the royal goose did not hop. He leaned over the puddle and peered down at the upside-down castle.

“Honk?” he said.

Then he waddled toward the puddle’s far edge, following the castle’s reflection. His blue parade ribbon trailed behind him. The marchers turned after Gordon, though the parade route went the other way.

Boom-boom, went the drum, as Maisy hurried after them.

The little kingdom’s cobblestone lane passed the baker’s shop and the fountain, then ran straight up to the castle courtyard. Nothing blocked the view between the fountain and the courtyard gates. Maisy had planned the parade’s grand finish there. Everyone would arrive together: the drummers, the ribbon dancers, the sleepy sheep from the farm, and Gordon, who wore a tiny gold crown on his head.

“Come along, Gordon!” Maisy called. “The courtyard is this way!”

Gordon honked and turned toward another puddle beside the fountain. Its reflection showed a bright blue banner waving upside down. Gordon followed it around the fountain, and the marchers split into two wiggly lines.

The sheep went one way. The dancers went another. A drummer bumped gently into a basket of soft rolls. One roll bounced down the lane, and Gordon chased it for three steps before spotting a puddle beside a garden gate.

Boom-boom, went the drum, but the parade no longer sounded like one parade. Its beats came from different corners of the lane.

Maisy stopped beside the fountain. She wanted everyone together at the courtyard, not scattered like crumbs from a picnic basket. She watched Gordon peer into the water again. He wasn’t chasing rolls or banners. He was looking at something in the puddles.

Maisy tilted her head. Gordon’s beak pointed toward the little upside-down pictures in the water. And suddenly, she had an idea.

Maisy hurried to catch Gordon before he reached the puddle by the garden gate. She did not grab his ribbon or scold him. Instead, she crouched beside him and looked into the water.

There was the castle, upside down. Overhead, a round cloud drifted by, its edges glowing in the sunlight. Gordon gave a pleased little honk.

“You’re following the reflections!” Maisy said. “You want to see where they go.”

Gordon blinked at her. Then he looked at the puddle again.

Maisy reached into her parade pouch and found the little hand mirror she used to check her crown. She turned toward the courtyard, then held the mirror so it caught the courtyard behind her and faced Gordon.

“Look, Gordon,” she said. “Here’s a reflection you can follow all the way there.”

Gordon’s neck stretched toward the mirror. Maisy began walking slowly backward along the straight lane, keeping the courtyard in the mirror and Gordon in front of her. He waddled after its bright little picture.

Boom-boom, went the drum.

Maisy began to hum a tune, slow and steady: “Round the bend and down the lane, boom-boom, home again.” She kept the mirror aimed at the courtyard and sang the same words as they made their way along the lane.

A little farther on, Gordon spotted a puddle under a window. Its reflection showed a roof and a chimney. He began to veer away from Maisy.

“Wait, Gordon,” she said kindly. “The courtyard picture is coming too.” She adjusted the mirror until the sunlit courtyard wall shone in it. Gordon paused, then turned his beak back toward Maisy and followed the reflection.

The drummers heard her tune and found the lane again. Boom-boom, boom-boom, they played as they caught up. The ribbon dancers followed, then the sheep, who had been nibbling a leaf by the baker’s door.

Together they followed Maisy’s mirror and tune along the straight lane. Gordon stayed close, his gold crown bobbing with every step. At the end of the lane, the castle courtyard waited with its open gates.

Maisy lowered the mirror. Gordon looked from it to the real courtyard, then waddled through the gate. The marchers filled in behind him, all in one cheerful line at last.

Inside the courtyard, the parade made one slow circle around the old stone well. The drummers tapped a quiet boom-boom. The dancers let their ribbons rest against their shoulders, and the sheep settled beside a flowerpot, chewing thoughtfully.

Maisy tucked her little mirror into her pouch. “We made it together,” she said.

Gordon gave her a proud honk. His crown had slipped sideways, so Maisy straightened it with one careful finger.

“Thank you for showing us the way,” she told him. “And thank you for showing us all those puddle pictures.”

Gordon looked pleased. He stretched his neck toward the courtyard stones, where a tiny puddle held the upside-down lanterns. He leaned closer, but this time he stayed beside Maisy.

The marchers made room around the well. A dancer passed a roll to the drummer who had bumped the basket. He broke it in half and shared it with the sheep. Gordon got a crumb, too, and swallowed it with a happy gulp.

Boom-boom, went the drum, very softly now. Boom-boom. The sound traveled around the courtyard and came back from the castle walls, quieter each time, like a song settling into its bed.

Maisy sat on the wide stone step. Gordon folded his legs beside her, his feathers puffed up like a white pillow. The sheep tucked their noses beneath their wool, and the dancers laid their ribbons in a neat pile.

Above them, the courtyard lanterns glowed warmly. Their golden shapes floated in the little puddle, where Gordon watched them without needing to lead anyone anywhere.

“Tomorrow we can look at more reflections,” Maisy whispered.

Gordon made a tiny sound in his throat. It was almost a honk and almost a yawn.

The last drummer rested his sticks in his lap. The lane beyond the gates was quiet, and the castle courtyard held the whole parade, safe and sleepy together. Maisy leaned against the stone step, listening to the night sounds and Gordon’s slow, even breathing.

Gordon gave one last, drowsy honk beneath the courtyard lanterns, and the tired parade settled into the quiet.