Mira was putting on her pyjamas when she noticed a tiny silver button on the windowsill. It had four holes and a very important-looking sparkle.
‘That must belong to the moon,’ she whispered.
The moon was round that evening. It looked as if it might be wearing a coat.
Mira placed the button in a matchbox-sized bed made from a folded handkerchief. ‘You can stay here until your owner comes.’
In her dream, there was a polite tap at the window. The moon stood outside in a coat covered with stars. One pocket was hanging open.
‘My biscuit pocket!’ cried the moon. ‘Without its button, all my biscuits will float away.’
Mira offered the little silver button. The moon held it against the coat. Too small. It tried the cuff. Too shiny. It tried its hat.
‘Moons don’t wear hats,’ Mira said.
‘That explains why mine keeps falling off.’
They both laughed. Then Mira had an idea. She tied the loose pocket with a ribbon. The biscuits stayed put.
The moon bowed. ‘You found a way to help, even though your first guess was wrong.’
In the morning, Mum spotted the button. ‘There you are! You belong to my cardigan.’
Mira returned it with a smile. That night, she looked up at a small cloud beside the moon.
It looked exactly like a biscuit.
