“Oh, you pretty little thing,” cried Tiny.
The bird flew to a low bush, Tiny following. On and on they went, until Tiny was surprised to find herself at the end of the town.
“Why, I’m almost lost again,” she thought, “I better turn back.”
“Wick—wick!” sang the bird, as he alighted on a tree just outside the town.
To Tiny’s amazement, he was no longer a little bird, but the same big golden-winged woodpecker that she had followed into the forest when she left home. She was just about to run after him when a shadow fell across the roadway and she looked up.
“Mother!” she cried. “Oh, Mother!”
For the shadow was that of her mother who had gone out into the woods to look for her.
She stretched out her tiny little arms, but she was so very small her mother didn’t see her.
“Oh, Mother, here I am,” she cried, running toward her.
She stepped off the edge of Tinytown, and in a second she was her own self again, as big as ever.