Rolling Summit

I slipped right past the crack of the heavy front door to see what the outside was doing! The wooden porch was quiet and wide. Sitting right beside a clay pot was a plump, bumpy orange pumpkin—just about my height! A perfect climbing hill? Absolutely. I lunged forward, scrambling up its slick ridges with both paws kicking. Whoa—it tilted! The whole thing rolled half a turn toward the steps, carrying me with it! I dug my hind toes into the grooves, leaned into the curve, and scrambled right up to the very top. Now I'm perched high on the stalk, scouting out the whole yard!