Zama has spent all
morning in a mucky
puddle, making
a new friend.
“Let’s have some fun, Mud.
What do you want to do?”
“Something naughty,” grins Mud.
SQUELCH!
WHEEEE!
“Oh no, Mud!
You made Mama’s clean sheets dirty!”
“Zama! What have you done
to my washing?”
“It’s not me,
Mama. It’s Mud!”
cries Zama.
“Mud! What did you do to
Mama’s clean floor?”
But Mud ignores Zama and scampers into the kitchen.
“Zama! What is this mess?”
“It’s not me,
Mama. It’s Mud!”
Oh dear! Is there anything
Mud didn’t touch?
“It’s Mud, Mama!” pleads Zama.
“I don’t know how to stop it!”
“Enough
nonsense, Zama! Get
in the bath. Right now!”
Zama sinks into the
bubbles. It feels so good to be clean again!
But where is Mud?
Suddenly...
KER-
SPLASH!
“Zama!
The bath is full of mud!” “I know, Mama,”
says Zama crossly.
“And it can stay there!”
Mud
