Kayla giggled at the grass tickling her feet. She skipped across the yard, looking for new things to water. She liked skipping, ever since she’d learned what it was three days ago. And watering things.

A movement caught her attention and she paused. Dropping to a crouch, she knelt in front of the frog. She studied it for a minute, head tilting this way and that. It stared back, round eyes wide.

“Hello, Mister Frog.” She crouched in front of him.

He blinked, and opened his mouth. “Hello.”

She giggled and fell back on her bum in surprise. “You talked.”

Mister Frog flicked a long tongue out, catching a passing fly.

“Eww.” Kayla scrunched her face up in disgust. “Yuck.”

“I didn’t always eat bugs.” His voice was a rumbling series of croaks. He kind of reminded her of the way Grandpa talked. “I used to eat the best foods in the world.”

“Like what?” Kayla asked.

“Like cakes, and pies, and the best candy bars ever made,” Mister Frog told her. “And then an evil witch turned me into a frog.”

Kayla’s mouth drew into a round O shape as looked closer at the frog. “Are you a prince then?”

He hopped onto a nearby rock, bringing him closer to her face. “I am.”

She squealed and clapped. “I’ve always wanted to meet a prince. Can you buy me a pony?”

“I can,” Mister Frog agreed. “And all the cakes and pies you can eat. And the best candy bars too.”

“Yay!” Kayla grinned. Her mom never let her have that kind of stuff. “Let’s go then.”

“Wait.” His single command was forceful. “You have to break the spell first.”

“What spell?” Kayla scrunched her face up on thought again. “Oh yeah. From the evil witch.” She’d learned all about spells from movies and books. “Okay.” She reached for the frog, trying not to cringe at the slimy texture against her hands. He kind of smelled funny when she held him close, but he was a prince, so it was okay. She puckered up her lips.

“Kayla!” A sharp shrill cut through the afternoon. It was her mom. “Put that disgusting thing down, and come inside for lunch, hon.”

She set her prince back on his rock, hoping he liked the shady spot she’d picked for him. “Sorry, Mister Frog.” She patted him on the head. “We’ll have to go get a pony later.”

She wiped her hands on her shorts as she stood, getting most of the slime off. “Coming, Momma.”

As she skipped toward the house, Mister Frog’s tongue flicked out, grabbing another fly. “Yes.” His croak mingled with the afternoon breeze. “Pony later.”