Mr Stefan's odd socks never stay where they should. One morning a green sock slips away, and Clementine, Balbina, and Jadzia see the funniest surprise in the yard.
At the very end of Sock Street, in a little house with a crooked gate, lived Mr Stefan. In his drawer were the strangest socks in the world. One was striped, one was spotted, one was blue with tiny stars, and every single one had a hairy pompom on the toe. But the socks had a naughty habit: they never stayed paired. By morning, Mr Stefan would find them anywhere but in the drawer. On the windowsill. On the kitchen table. Once, one had even turned up beside the raspberry jam in the fridge.
One bright morning, Mr Stefan pulled out his most spacey pair: green socks with yellow pompoms. He sat on the bed, pulled one on, then the other, and gave his toes a wiggle.
Tickle-tickle.
Mr Stefan blinked. "Well, that is a cheerful feeling," he chuckled.
Then he heard a tiny giggle from under the bed.
Mr Stefan bent down. There, half hidden in the shadow, was the missing sock. Before he could grab it, it wriggled free, shot across the floor, skipped past his slippers, and dashed out through the open door.
"Hey! Come back!" called Mr Stefan, hopping after it.
The sock zipped into the backyard, where three hens were pecking in the grass: Clementine, Balbina, and Jadzia. They stopped at once and stared.
The sock gave a little twirl.
Then another.
Then a perfect spinning pirouette.
The hens gasped, clucked, and raced after it, feathers flapping. Around the cabbage patch they went. Past the watering can. Under the clothesline. Mr Stefan hurried after them, trying not to trip over his own feet.
At last the sock bumped into a rake, flipped into the air, and landed with a soft poof on the haystack.
The hens burst into happy clucks.
Mr Stefan climbed up to fetch the runaway sock, but when he reached for it, the hay rustled.
Something bright and colourful was poking out of the bush nearby, wiggling very slowly.
What on earth could that be?