Papa, please get the

moon for me

ERIC CARLE

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Before Monica went to bed she looked
out of her window and saw the moon.
The moon looked so near.
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"I wish I could play with the moon,"
thought Monica, and reached for it.

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But no matter how much she stretched,
she could not touch the moon.

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"Papa," said Monica to her father,
"Please get the moon for me."

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Papa got a very long ladder.

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He carried the very long ladder toward a
very high mountain.

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Then Papa put the very long ladder on
top of the very high moutain.
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Up and up and up he climbed.

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Finally, Papa got to the moon, "My daughter
Monica would like to play with you, but you
are much too big" said Papa.
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"Every night I get a little smaller," said the
moon. "When I am just the right size you
can take me with you."
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And, indeed, the moon got smaller and
smaller.

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And smaller.

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When the moon was just the right size, Papa
took it.
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Down and down and down he climbed.

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"Here," said Papa to Monica, "I have the
moon for you."
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Monica jumped and danced with the moon.

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She hugged the moon and threw it into
the air.

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But the moon kept getting smaller
and smaller and smaller, and finally it
disappeared altogether.

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Then, one night, Monica saw a thin sliver
of the moon reapear.

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Each night the moon grew.....

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And grew..

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And grew..

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