Once, there was a frog called Frances. Frances was a happy frog. If she wasn’t hopping, she was jumping. If she wasn’t jumping, she was exploring. One day, she came to some palace gardens. For a while, she played hopscotch on the paving stones. Then, as it was a very hot day and the ornamental pond looked cool and inviting, she decided to take a swim. She dived and splashed, swam a few lengths of breaststroke, swam a few lengths of backstroke . and stretched out amongst the ferns to soak up some shade. “Gotcha!” came a triumphant miaow. Frances felt the end of a sharp claw. She felt herself being dragged up some steps . . . and then she fainted. When she came round she was lying between the polished boot of a handsome young prince and the nose of a smug-looking cat. [download]
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