Ginger was tucked beneath her blanket when she heard a strange little sound beneath her bed. Tap. Tap. Tap. She opened her eyes and listened. The room was dark except for a ribbon of moonlight stretching across the floor. Everything was quiet. Then she heard it again. Tap. Tap. Tap. Ginger leaned over the side of the bed and looked underneath. “Is somebody down there?” she whispered. Nothing answered. There were only her slippers, a book she had forgotten to put away, and a dust bunny hiding near the wall. Ginger pulled herself back beneath the covers. “Probably the wind,” she decided, although she wasn't sure how the wind could get under her bed.

She had just closed her eyes when the mattress gave a little bump. Then another. Ginger sat straight up. Her bed was trembling. The four wooden legs rattled against the floor, and the blanket fluttered around her knees. “What are you doing?” Ginger asked. The bed gave one enormous bounce and lifted off the floor. Ginger grabbed the headboard as her bed rose slowly through the room until it hovered near the ceiling. She stared down at her slippers far below. “Beds aren't supposed to fly,” she said. Apparently, this bed hadn't heard that rule.

The bed turned toward the open window and sailed straight through it. Ginger's red hair blew behind her as they floated into the night. She clutched her blanket with one hand and the headboard with the other. Below her, rooftops grew smaller, trees became dark green circles, and roads twisted through the sleeping world like ribbons. For a moment Ginger was frightened. Then she looked up. The stars seemed close enough to touch. Ginger loosened her grip on the headboard. “All right,” she whispered. “If we're going flying, let's go flying.”

The bed climbed higher. They sailed over fields silver with moonlight and over hills Ginger had only ever seen from far away. They passed a flock of geese sleeping on a pond. Ginger could see the moon reflected in the water, bright and round, until the bed flew through a cloud and everything disappeared into white mist. Ginger reached out and scooped a handful of cloud, but it vanished between her fingers.

On the other side, the world was brighter. The moon hung ahead of them like a giant lantern. Ginger lay on her stomach at the foot of the bed and watched the earth pass beneath her. Suddenly the bed dipped. “Whoa!” Ginger bounced against the pillows as they swooped toward a mountain. Just before reaching it, the bed tilted upward and sailed over the peak. Ginger laughed. “Do it again!” The bed did. Soon they were swooping over hills, circling clouds, and racing moonbeams across the sky. Ginger held her arms out wide while her blanket flapped behind her like a cape.

Then Ginger saw something ahead. Another bed floated through the clouds. A little boy was sound asleep beneath a striped blanket and didn't seem to know he was flying at all. Ginger waved anyway. A little farther on, she passed a cradle drifting beneath the stars. Then came a rocking chair, a sofa, and even a hammock with an old dog snoring inside it. Ginger stared. Perhaps beds flew every night. Perhaps everyone was simply asleep when it happened. The thought delighted her.

Her bed climbed again until the houses below disappeared and the clouds became a soft white sea. Ginger lay back against her pillows. The night air was cool, so she pulled the blanket around her shoulders. “Where are we going now?” she asked. The bed slowed until it wasn't really going anywhere at all. It simply floated beneath the stars. Ginger became very still. She could hear nothing except the faint rustle of her blanket and the wind whispering past. She had never known the world could be this quiet.

Her eyes began to feel heavy. “Don't take me home yet,” she murmured. The bed rocked gently from side to side. Ginger curled beneath her blanket and watched one last star slide past the bedpost. Then she fell asleep.

Sometime before morning, the flying bed slipped back through Ginger's window. It lowered itself carefully onto the floor and settled onto its four wooden legs as though it had never moved at all. When Ginger woke, sunlight filled the room. For a moment she couldn't remember why she expected to see stars. Then she smiled. It had been a dream. Of course it had.

Ginger climbed out of bed and slipped her feet into her slippers. Something cold touched her toes. She reached inside one slipper and pulled out a tiny white feather. Ginger stared at it and then looked at her bed. The bed didn't move, but Ginger could have sworn she heard a very quiet tap, tap, tap.

She tucked the feather into her pocket.

Just in case the bed wanted to fly again that night.