Even in his dreams John heard it, although he tried hard not to. He did not want to wake. After all, it wasn’t every night he scored ten goals in the Cup Final! At last he gave in, opened his eyes and listened very hard. Someone was crying, but who could it be?

Creeping onto the landing, he peeped into his parents’ room where they lay fast asleep. All was quiet and peaceful there but on returning to his own room he heard the crying again. Perhaps it was coming from the garden? Carefully he drew aside the curtains and peered out but all he could see was the early morning blackbird pecking at a stale crust on the lawn. Yet still the crying continued.

Reaching the kitchen he slowly and silently turned the key in the back door and walked out into the garden. Whatever was crying was not far away. He looked round curiously until he saw a movement in the far border among the nettles. Something was definitely out there.

Taking great care not to make any sound, John tiptoed across the lawn and drawing his hands into the long slevees of his dressing gown to protect them, slowly parted the nettles and gasped in surprise.

There, standing on the parched earth, dabbing at her eyes with a sheaf of bright red rose petals, stood a tiny plump dinosaur no bigger than his hand. She jumped in fright when she saw John and dropped her petalled handkerchief.

"Don’t be scared,"

"I won’t harm you. Why are you crying?"

"They hurt,"

"And I can’t get out. Every time I move they hurt again."

Carefully, John pulled the prickly stems further apart.

"Now try,"