All the commotion at the bottom of the sycamore tree had awoken Orwell, the owl, from his perch at the top of the sycamore tree. Orwell was tired and groggy from hunting frogs all night. He yawned, throwing his beak wide, then wider, until it was the widest it could go.

Orwell turned his attention to the noisy pair of rioting rodents below him. He decided that enough was enough and hooted haughtily at the troublemakers for nearly ruining his nap. The Squirrel and Mole took fright at the owl’s warning and they sped fast, then faster, until they were speeding the fastest that they had ever sped away.

On the opposite side of the sycamore from Orwell was a patient woodpecker named Pat. Pat knew better than wake Orwell. Instead of

Just inside the sycamore tree was William, the worm. William knew that Pat was outside his hole in the tree, and he was sick of it. So William decided that he would have to trick the tireless woodpecker so that he could finally be rid of him. He cleverly tied a string to the inside of the tree and then dangled the very end outside his hole.

Pat spotted the string immediately and leapt at the chance to get his worm. He tugged on the string hard, then harder and then he tugged with all his might the hardest that he could. The string was very strong and would not budge for all the woodpeckers tugging. Worn-out and sweaty, Pat the