Once upon a time, in a bright summer sky, there was a little cloud named Puffy. He was fluffy and innocent-looking, floating happily wherever the wind took him. But he had a secret; he dreamed of being a painter and wanted to paint the sky different colors. He was very excited about this thought, but there was a big problem: he didn’t know how to get the colors.
“Besides,” he thought, “all those lovely colors would spoil the beauty of the sky, so perhaps it wouldn’t be right to paint it after all.”
He thought and thought about it until at last, he found a plan. He would gather all the colors he could see and put them somewhere where nobody could waste them. But, colors were very difficult to find. Yes, there were colors called green, and red, and grey, but where do you find pure green paint, for example? After thinking hard for many days, Puffy thought of the colors that the sun put in the sky when it is getting up in the morning. Red, and yellow, and green, and a lovely clear blue—it would be such a pretty picture when it was finished! How happy all the little people down below would feel when they woke up!
Puffy immediately started to paint the morning sky.
“We love your work!” cried the sunbeams, using their gold tints to help him. “So much happier than the plain blue, we think.”
Puffy liked it too.
“Only,” he sighed, “I wish I could paint something different. Every morning it grows pinker and pinker, and every evening it grows yellower and yellower, but never anything else. Would they really like to feel blue, do you think?”
He saw a big white princess cloud floating by.
“I have seen cities and ships and people,” thought the princess. “I am so tired! I think I will have a little sleep up here in the sky for a bit.”
“Will you tell me a color, please?” asked Puffy, when she got near. “One that will not fade in the sky and that people would like to have all day long?”
The princess cloud thought, but no color came, so she went on her way. However, Puffy had heard what she said as she was drifting away.
“But I should only use it at night,” he said, “when the people are asleep, else it would make them want to yawn! Now the next color, what will that be?”
He saw the sun down below him.
“Give me a drop of water,” said the sun, when he asked him. “Put it on the flower, and touch the flower petals with the moonbeam, and you will see all the colors changing.”
Puffy saw a lovely flower growing in the field far below.
“It has not grown for a long time,” he said. “I thought it was dead. But I will try my drop of water on it.”
So he took a little bit of water, which came from the sea. He let it drop on the flower’s leaves, and suddenly there flew millions of colors left and right, and each leaf became a new and different color. Hardly had a minute passed when the flower was radiant and glittering like a rainbow; when up came the moonbeam.
“It is past nighttime now,” said the moonbeam. “What do you want?”
“I want you to touch this flower with your light,” cried Puffy.
“I will if you will be quick, for the sun is due up in another minute.”
And the moonbeam touched the petals, and as quickly withdrew again.
“What colors are you putting out now?” he asked, frowning. “Let me see!”
Gray, and red, and green! Any other colors?
“Think of the rainbow!” said the cool evening breeze.