What Is This Rule About Pieces?

Maman! calls the little girl, who is waiting for her mother.

What is it, Adeline? asks her mother, emerging from the bushes.

Someone has dropped a paper, says Adeline. 

How thoughtless! says her mother.

We should pick it up and put it in a bin, says Adeline.

It might be dirty, says her mother.

But Adeline doesn't care if it's dirty. She will pick it up with the edge of her shirt.

She runs to the paper.

Oh!

Two frogs are busy, tearing it into two pieces.

You should not do that, says Adeline.

Pardon? says Quiet-tartus. 

You should not make one piece of rubbish into two pieces, says Adeline.

It's not rubbish, says Quiet-tartus. And what is this rule about pieces?

Two pieces of rubbish is worse than one piece, says Adeline.

But the two pieces will be smaller, says Quiet-tartus.

It's still worse, says Adeline.

Yes, says the knowlesi. The two pieces might blow in different directions.

Whose side are you on? asks Quiet-tartus.

Adeline's mother comes up. What's going on? 

The frogs are tearing the paper, says Adeline. I'm trying to stop them.

Perhaps they have a reason, says Adeline's mother. Look, there's writing on this side. It looks like a poem.

This is our poem bag, says the knowlesi. We're trying to make it more manageable.

Why not just fold it? asks Adeline's mother.

If you were a frog you wouldn't suggest that, says the knowlesi.

Of course, says Adeline's mother. Let me fold it for you.

Adeline's mother folds the poem bag neatly, until it is small.

We would have preferred a piece each, says Quiet-tartus.

Adeline's mother unfolds the poem bag, separates the pieces, and refolds them.

One piece won't have the poem on, says Adeline. 

But they will not know which, says Adeline's mother. 

The frogs like the idea of not knowing which of them has it.

They thank Adeline's mother.

Can we drop you anywhere? asks Adeline's mother.

The station, says Quiet-tartus.

 Easy, says Adeline's mother. Our car is here. Hop in.

The frogs hop into the back seat, with their folded papers. 

One has the poem, one hasn't.

It was lucky, that they met Adeline's mother.