Enormous, huge and golden was the Sun as he began rolling down the dome-shaped roof of the mountain palace. Over the tops of the trees he floated, gliding over the stiff tall wood, which became splendidly warm and friendly, glowing with light and joy.

And slowly he slid down into the soft green of the emerald meadows where flowers of fiery beauty sprang into bloom.

The veils of mist, which the grass and the trees had breathed out so thoughtfully, as they do every night, cushioned his downhill journey. Every now and again, the swirling mist had to tug quite hard at the Sun to stop him gaily gambolling down the hillside -and when it bravely tried to catch hold of him, it shone up in a wild bunch of brilliant colours like a rainbow of fireworks.

   * * *

The Moon, who - as we all know - has a very accurate sense of time, became rather restless as it just did not seem to grow dark enough for her to make her entry on the scene.

She became so nervous and confused that she tried pushing aside one of the clouds to see what was going on down below. But the cloud resolutely resisted and joined up with another one, sending her back to the big milky cup from which she had risen.

Meanwhile, the Sun had floated right down into the valley - and the crickets were the first creatures to be a little puzzled about why they could not go to sleep. But they did not mind, tuned their concertinas and began to make their merry music.