High up in an old apple tree, on the very tip of a long, curved branch, hung the most beautiful apple in the whole orchard. It was round and rosy-red, with golden cheeks that glowed in the sunshine. And it was fast asleep, swaying gently in the warm breeze.
Under the tree stood a little child, looking up with big brown eyes. 'Oh, what a beautiful apple!' the child whispered. 'It's the rosiest, roundest, most perfect apple I've ever seen. I wish I could reach it!' But the branch was much too high.
The child reached up on tiptoe, stretching as high as possible. But the apple was still far, far above. 'Apple, apple!' called the child. 'Wake up and come down to me!' But the apple just kept sleeping peacefully, rocking on its branch like a baby in a cradle.
The child looked up at the bright sun shining through the leaves. 'Dear Sun!' called the child. 'Can you help me? Can you shake the apple down from the tree?' The sun smiled warmly. 'I can warm the apple and make it ripe and sweet,' said the sun, 'but I cannot shake the tree. I'm sorry, little one.'
Just then, a little robin landed on a branch near the sleeping apple. 'Dear Bird!' called the child. 'Can you push the apple off the branch for me?' The robin tilted its head and chirped. 'I'm much too small to push such a big apple,' said the bird. 'But I can sing it a wake-up song!' The robin sang its sweetest tune, but the apple slept on.
The child sat down under the tree and sighed. 'Who can help me get that beautiful apple?' Just then, a cool breeze rustled through the orchard. The leaves whispered and the branches swayed. 'I know!' said the child, jumping up. 'The wind! The wind is strong enough!'
'Dear Wind!' called the child, spreading out the checkered apron wide. 'Please, can you shake the apple tree? The apple is sleeping and I cannot reach it!' A playful gust swirled around the child's feet, and a grinning face appeared in the breeze. 'Watch this!' said the wind with a wink.
The wind took a deep breath and blew — WHOOOOSH! — against the apple tree. The trunk trembled, the branches shook, and the leaves danced wildly in the air. The sleeping apple rocked and swayed on its branch, and its little eyes blinked open. 'What's happening?' mumbled the apple.
The wind blew once more — an even bigger WHOOOOSH! The branch bounced up and down, and the apple's stem snapped with a tiny pop. Down, down, down fell the rosy apple, tumbling through the leaves, spinning through the sunshine — and landing right in the middle of the child's outstretched apron!
'I caught it! I caught it!' cheered the child, hugging the warm apple close. The apple blinked its eyes wide open and smiled. 'Well, hello there!' said the apple. 'What a nice soft landing!' The child and the apple both laughed.
'Thank you, dear Wind!' called the child, waving at the swirling breeze. The wind ruffled the child's hair playfully. 'Anytime!' it whooshed, and twirled away through the orchard, shaking a few more apples loose for fun as it went.
The child sat down under the apple tree and took a big, juicy bite. The apple was the sweetest, most delicious apple in the whole world — warm from the sun, ripe from the summer, and delivered by the kindest wind. 'Thank you, sun, for making it sweet,' whispered the child. 'Thank you, bird, for trying. And thank you, wind, for bringing it to me.'
