The Wishing Well’s Wobbly Stage

“I wish for the smoothest lily pad!” croaked Fable. The well went plink, and the pad grew as smooth as a dinner plate.

Fable was a young frog with a singing voice that could make the pond bugs pause in mid-buzz. Tonight, she planned to sing a solo for her friends. The big round pad in the middle of the pond would be her stage, and the little stone wishing well stood beside the water like a patient listener.

After sunset, the lily pads glowed like green lanterns. Fable stepped onto her new, shiny-smooth stage. Her feet slid forward. She slid backward. Then she spun around once and landed in a patch of duckweed.

“Very graceful,” said Dottie, who was setting out tiny seats on the bank. “The duckweed gives you a nice finish.”

Pip, a springy frog with long legs, bounced over. “That pad is so smooth, I could dance on it!”

Fable scrambled back to shore. “I only wanted it ready for my song.”

Pip leaned toward the well. “Plink, went the well; wish, went the water. I wish this pad had room for my biggest dance!”

The well gave a plink. The pad stretched wider, until it was nearly as broad as a little pond boat. Pip hopped onto it and tried a grand leap. He landed with a boing, and the pad tipped so far that he slid across it like a pebble on a plate.

“Room enough!” Pip called, hanging over the edge by his toes.

Dottie lifted her seats. They were made from curled leaves, each with a tiny berry cushion. “A show needs an audience,” she said. “And an audience needs a good view.”

She faced the well. “Plink, went the well; wish, went the water. I wish this pad had a neat row of seats!”

Plink! The pad puckered in the middle and rose at the edges. It now looked like a green bowl. Dottie placed her seats along the rim. They rolled downhill into the center, bumping together with soft little thumps.

Fable looked at the bowl-shaped stage, the slippery middle, and Pip’s dangling toes. Her song was ready, but the pad was not. Then Pip tried to hop again while Dottie clutched her rolling seats, and Fable began to wonder if the three wishes might belong in the same show.

Pip hauled himself back onto the bank. Dottie caught the last rolling seat before it tipped into the water. Fable watched them: Pip crouched, ready to hop, while Dottie held her little audience seats in a careful stack.

“Wait,” said Fable. “Pip, you want to dance. Dottie, you want everyone to have a place to watch. I want to sing. What if we make one show with all three wishes?”

Pip’s toes stopped wiggling. “I can dance first!”

“And I can arrange the seats where they won’t roll,” said Dottie. She studied the lumpy pad. “Maybe the middle can be the stage, and the edges can be the audience’s porch.”

Fable turned to the wishing well. “Plink, went the well; wish, went the water. We wish to make room for each other.”

The well answered with a plink, but the pad did not change. Fable blinked. “Maybe it needs us to help.”

The three friends paddled to the pad. Pip pressed down the highest bump with his strong feet. Dottie tucked her curled-leaf seats into a shallow nook near the edge. Fable stepped onto the center and tested it with one careful hop.

The pad wobbled left. Pip wobbled right. Dottie’s seats began to scoot.

“Hold on!” cried Dottie, hugging the stack. Pip stretched both arms wide like a windmill. Fable planted her feet and began to sing a silly tune about a frog who wore a hat made of cheese.

Pip started dancing to the beat. He hopped once, then twice, then spun with his arms out. Dottie set each seat in place between his hops. Fable sang louder, and Pip added a tiny tail wiggle he did not actually have.

Dottie laughed so hard that one seat landed backward. Pip laughed at the backward seat. Fable laughed at Pip’s pretend tail. Their laughter rolled over the water and into the well.

The well glowed from its stones to its rim. A warm light spread across the pond. The wide pad eased into a level circle. Its middle was smooth enough for Fable, its edge broad enough for Pip’s dance, and a snug little nook held Dottie’s seats.

They tested it together. Pip danced without sliding. Dottie’s seats stayed put. Fable stood tall in the center.

“This is just right,” she said. The pad held steady beneath all three friends, ready for their show.

Dottie straightened the little leaf seats, turning each one so it faced the center. She placed a berry cushion on every seat and saved one for herself. Pip stood at the edge of the pad, warming up with small hops that barely made a ripple.

Fable looked out over the pond. A few beetles settled on the bank. A sleepy snail peeked from a reed. Even the water bugs gathered near the glowing pads, quiet as buttons.

“Ready?” asked Fable.

“Ready!” said Pip and Dottie.

Pip began the show with a dance. He hopped from one foot to the other, spun in a circle, and finished with a bow so low that his chin touched the pad. The audience clapped. One beetle clapped by tapping its wings, which sounded like a tiny pair of wooden spoons.

Then Dottie showed everyone the seats. She sat down, sat up, and turned around to demonstrate how comfortable they were. The berry cushions gave little plops beneath her. The snail nodded as if it had never seen such fine seats.

At last, Fable stepped into the middle of the pad. The audience grew still. She sang a bright song about raindrops that wore boots, minnows who told jokes, and a frog who tried to keep a hat made of cheese on her head.

Pip danced quietly beside her. Dottie kept time by tapping one seat with a toe. The song floated over the pond, and the frogs joined in on the last line. They sang about cheese hats until even the snail gave a soft chuckle.

When the show ended, the friends bowed together. The well’s light faded to a cozy gleam among the stones, and the lily pads kept their calm green glow. The big pad stayed level, holding the three friends as they sat shoulder to shoulder.

“That was better than a solo,” said Fable.

“Especially the dancing,” said Pip.

“Especially the seats,” said Dottie.

“Especially the cheese hat,” they all agreed.

Soon the beetles returned to their leaves, the snail tucked its head away, and the pond grew quiet. Fable, Pip, and Dottie paddled to their own little pads nearby. Each chose a comfortable spot and curled up as the water made small, sleepy sounds around them. The wishing well stood beside the pond, still as a stone, while the three friends rested beneath the glowing lily pads.