Ivy and the Smoke Hiccup

Ivy was a small green dragon, and she was the only dragon in the world who hiccupped bubbles.

Nobody in Pebble Hill thought this was strange. The baker's bread sang when it was done, and the rain came down in pink on Tuesdays. A bubble-hiccup dragon was just Ivy.

But Ivy had a secret. Every night, when the moon came up, she sneaked to the top of the hill. She wanted to blow one great, big, round bubble. One that would float all the way up to the moon.

"Tonight," she whispered. "Tonight I will do it."

She took a deep breath. She puffed. Out came a tiny bubble. It wobbled and went pop.

Ivy tried again. Puff. Pop. Puff. Pop. The bubbles were always too small.

"Maybe I need to puff harder," she said. She puffed so hard her cheeks went round. Out came a bubble the size of a button, and it went pop.

Ivy sat down. A little brown snail was crawling by with a leaf on its back. It was only on its way home, and it did not stop.

"Hic!" said Ivy. A bubble drifted up.

"Hic! Hic!" Two more.

Ivy watched them float. They did not pop. They went up and up, because they were hiccup bubbles, and hiccup bubbles are light.

"Oh!" said Ivy. "I was never meant to puff them. They come when I hiccup!"

So she held her breath. She counted to ten. Then she let it out in one big, wobbly...

"HIC!"

Out came a bubble as big as a bathtub. It shone silver in the moonlight. It rose over the hill, over the roofs, over the singing bakery, and bobbed up toward the moon.

Ivy lay back on the grass, smiling.

"Hic," she said, softly. A small bubble floated up after the big one.

Far above her, the big bubble went on rising, shining, and humming very quietly to itself.