Strawberry Shortcake was a little fairy who lived in a bright house with a red roof and round windows. Her wings were pink, like soft berry petals. She was kind, helpful, and a little shy. She loved to bake tiny strawberry cakes in her acorn-cup oven.
One rainy morning, Strawberry Shortcake opened the curtains. “Oh!” she said.
The house looked strange.
The yellow rug was gray. The blue teacups were gray. Even her favorite red ribbon was gray.
Outside, the garden behind the house had lost its colors too. The daisies looked sleepy. The berries looked like little pebbles.
Strawberry Shortcake’s wings gave a worried flutter.
Then there came a knock at the window.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
It was Tree Spirit, who lived in the old apple tree beside the house. Tree Spirit had a long, leafy beard, bright brown eyes, and arms like bendy branches. Usually he laughed in a deep, rustly voice. Today, he looked droopy.
“Good morning, little Fairy,” he sighed. “Or perhaps it is a gray morning.”
“Why has every color gone away?” asked Strawberry Shortcake.
Tree Spirit pointed one twiggy finger toward the attic. “I heard a broom swish there in the night. Swish, swish, swish.”
“A broom?” whispered Strawberry Shortcake.
Then, from above them, came a tiny sneeze.
“Achoo!”
A puff of gray dust floated down the stairs.
Strawberry Shortcake held her little strawberry-shaped lantern. She felt shy, but she also felt brave. “We should look,” she said.
“I will come,” said Tree Spirit. “My roots are not very speedy, but my branches are excellent for reaching high places.”
Up the stairs they went. Creak, creak, creak.
The attic was full of old boxes, soft blankets, and a rocking horse with one floppy ear. In the middle of the room stood Witch.
Witch wore a purple hat that was much too large. It had fallen over one eye. Her black cat was not with her. Her broom leaned against a box marked WINTER SOCKS.
In Witch’s hands was a shiny silver bottle.
Inside the bottle swirled all the colors from the house.
Red spun around yellow. Blue bumped into green. Orange made little sparks.
“Please put those colors back!” said Strawberry Shortcake, though her voice came out very small.
Witch jumped. “Oh! A fairy! And a tree with feet!”
“Tree Spirit,” said Tree Spirit politely.
Witch hugged the bottle close. “I cannot give it back.”
“Why not?” asked Strawberry Shortcake.
Witch looked at her pointy shoes. One shoe had a hole in the toe. “Because my own little house is very dull. No one visits me. I thought that if I had all the colors, my house would be beautiful.”
Tree Spirit’s leafy beard rustled. “Taking colors without asking makes other homes sad.”
“I know,” mumbled Witch. “But I did not know how to make a friend.”
Strawberry Shortcake looked at the gray rug downstairs. She thought of the sad daisies and the gray berries. Then she looked at Witch’s lonely face.
“You may not keep the colors,” she said gently. “But perhaps we can help you make your house beautiful in another way.”
Witch blinked. “You would help me?”
“Yes,” said Strawberry Shortcake. “After we return the colors.”
Witch nodded slowly. “All right. But the bottle has a tricky stopper. It only opens when it hears three happy sounds.”
Tree Spirit clapped his branch-hands. “That is a problem we can solve!”
First, Strawberry Shortcake took out a tiny spoon and tapped it on a teacup. Ting-ting-ting! It sounded like raindrops dancing.
“That is one happy sound,” said the bottle. Its silver stopper gave a tiny wiggle.
Next, Tree Spirit shook his leafy beard. The leaves went shush-shush-shush, then plopped onto Witch’s hat.
Witch giggled. “Your beard is tickly!”
“That is two happy sounds,” said the bottle.
They waited for the third sound.
Strawberry Shortcake tried to sing, but she was too nervous. Witch tried to whistle, but only made a squeak. Tree Spirit told a joke about a squirrel wearing boots, but nobody understood the ending.
Then the floppy-eared rocking horse began to wobble.
“Why are you moving?” asked Strawberry Shortcake.
“I have been gray all morning,” said the rocking horse. “It is terribly boring. Could someone please give me a ride?”
Tree Spirit carefully sat on the tiny rocking horse.
Creak.
The horse tipped forward.
Tree Spirit’s leafy beard flew up. His branch arms waved. His roots wiggled in the air.
“Whoops-a-wood!” he cried.
Strawberry Shortcake laughed. Witch laughed. Even the rocking horse laughed, which sounded like a happy clop-clop-clop.
That was the third happy sound.
Pop!
The stopper sprang out. A shining rainbow whooshed from the bottle.
Red zoomed into Strawberry Shortcake’s ribbon. Yellow hopped onto the rug. Blue splashed into the teacups. Green raced out the window and wrapped around the garden leaves.
The daisies opened wide. The berries glowed red again. The whole house sparkled as if it had just been washed by sunshine.
Witch smiled, but only a little. “Now my house will still be dull,” she said.
“Not for long,” said Strawberry Shortcake.
So the three new friends walked to Witch’s house at the end of the garden path. It was a small crooked house with a chimney shaped like a snail shell. It was not scary. It was simply plain and quiet.
Strawberry Shortcake baked strawberry cakes with pink icing. Tree Spirit brought apple blossoms, gold leaves, and three funny pinecones that looked like tiny hats. Witch used her magic carefully. She made the pinecones hum a welcome song.
“I can make colors without stealing them,” said Witch. She waved her wand over a bowl of rainwater. “A little blue from the sky, a little green from the grass, a little gold from the sun.”
The rainwater became paint.
Together, they painted the front door berry red. They painted the window boxes bright yellow. They painted a rainbow above the chimney.
At last, Witch’s house was cheerful and cozy.
Witch opened the door wide. “Would you like to visit for tea?”
“I would love to,” said Tree Spirit. “But only if I get a chair with room for my roots.”
“I have the perfect pot,” said Witch.
They all laughed.
Before Strawberry Shortcake went home, Witch gave her a small treasure box. It was painted with strawberries and stars.
“For you,” said Witch. “You were brave enough to speak kindly. Open it when you need a little courage.”
Inside was a golden sugar bell. When Strawberry Shortcake rang it, it made a warm, brave sound: ting!
From that day on, Strawberry Shortcake kept the bell beside her acorn-cup oven. Whenever someone felt lonely, worried, or gray inside, she rang it once and shared a tiny strawberry cake.
And outside the bright house, Tree Spirit’s apple tree grew the sweetest red apples anyone had ever seen.