Flora lived in a round, shiny house made of moon rocks. Her best friend was a woolly mammoth named Bartholomew. Bartholomew wasn't just any mammoth; he wore a tiny silver helmet and dreamed of flying. Flora knew Bartholomew had lived a long, long time ago, even before rocket ships!

One sunny day (sunshine beamed *extra* bright on the moon rocks), Bartholomew sighed. "I wish I could see the stars from *above* them, Flora!"

Flora thought hard. She remembered seeing pictures of olden-day people making things fly with big, whooshing sails. "I have an idea, Bartholomew!" she squealed. She ran inside her moon-rock house and returned with her grandma’s old bedsheet (it was very, very long!) and some glow-in-the-dark moonberries.

Together, they tied the bedsheet to Bartholomew’s back, making a giant, floppy sail. Then, they sprinkled the moonberries all over it. Now it glowed a soft, gentle purple. Bartholomew puffed out his chest and took a running start.

He flapped the sail with his trunk, and… whoosh! He lifted off the ground! He didn't fly *super* high, just enough to see the Earth hanging like a big, blue marble. Bartholomew trumpeted with delight. "I'm flying! I'm really flying!"

Flora clapped her hands. "You did it, Bartholomew! You made your own olden-day spaceship!" They flew together, Bartholomew gently gliding, Flora holding tight to his tusk, until the moonberries dimmed and it was time for warm milk and moon-rock cookies. Bartholomew may have been from the past, but he'd just had a very futuristic adventure.