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"Good morning, Tig," says Sun.

"Morning, Sun," says Tig.

"Why are you in such a hurry today?" asked Sun.

"I have to get to the park before everyone else gets there."

"Why is that?"

"Because I don't like it when there are lots of other people there. It's too busy."

"Don't you like having lots of new people to play with?"

"No," Tig shakes her head.

"How do you know if you don't try?" asks Sun.

Tig shrugs. "It's just not for me."

"Well, I never," says Sun, floating along in the sky next to them. "And who's that with you?"

"That's Lomster," says Tig.

"What is Lomster?"

Tig points at Lomster. "My imagination," she says.

"Is it friendly?" The Sun looks at Lomster. Lomster bares his teeth and growls. Grrrr.

"Sometimes," says Tig.

"I see," says the Sun, rising a little higher, a little more out of the way.

Tig is walking the long way around the park, through the woods.

"Wouldn't it be quicker to go across the field?" asks Sun, watching them through the leaves.

"No, it's too noisy and the trees make me happy."

"What do you like about trees, Tig?"

"They make a sort of swishy, friendly sound," says Tig.

"But don't you want to see the fun fair in the park?" asks Sun.

"No, thank you," says Tig, stepping carefully over a snail.

Sun was surprised. "I thought everyone liked fun fairs!"

"They're just not for me," says Tig.

"Well, I never," says Sun.

Around the corner, children are playing. Tig and Lomster stop to watch from behind a tree.

"Look at all those children playing hide-and-seek! Don't you want to join in?"

"No, I just like to watch."

"Go on, Tig. Give it a try!"

"No, thank you, Sun. It's just not for me."

"Well, I never," says Sun.

Around the corner, Sun spots an ice cream stand. A lady in a yellow hat is selling ice cream cones.

"Look, Tig! Don't you want an ice cream?" asks Sun.

Tig stops and looks round. Lomster pulls on his lead. "No, thank you, Sun. I don't like talking to people much."

"Why is that, Tig?" asks Sun.

"It's just not my thing," says Tig.

"Well, I never," says Sun.

Tig and Lomster find an old oak tree in the quiet shade of the wood. They climb at the branches, one, two, three, and find the perfect place to sit.

"What are you doing in the tree, Tig?" asks Sun, watching Tig line up coloring pencils and a notepad on the branch.

"Writing Lomster stories," she says.

"Does Lomster like having stories written about him?" asks Sun, keeping one eye on Lomster.

"Sometimes," says Tig.

"I see," says Sun. Then Tig undoes a tin lunch box and takes out a pot of thick, orange, wiggling worms.

"Why have you got a pot of worms in your lunch box, Tig?"

"For Lomster," says Tig, holding up a big, juicy one for Sun to see. "They're his favorite. Want to try one?"

Sun makes a face like a letterbox. "No, thank you, Tig."

"Don't you like eating worms?" she asks.

"NO," says Sun.

"Well, how do you know you don't like them until you try them?" she asks.

"They're just not for me," says Sun.

"Well, I never," says Tig.

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