Ginger was almost asleep when she felt her bed move. Not much. Just a tiny tilt. She opened one eye. Her room looked exactly the same. Her blanket was tucked beneath her chin, moonlight stretched across the floor, and everything was where it belonged. Ginger closed her eye again. Then the bed tilted the other way.

Ginger sat up. Her slippers were on the ceiling. She stared at them. They were sitting side by side directly above her head as neatly as if someone had placed them there. “That isn't right,” Ginger whispered. Before she could decide what to do, her bed gave one enormous, gentle turn, and suddenly Ginger was floating. She rose toward the ceiling, passed her slippers, and drifted straight through the roof as though it were made of mist.

Outside, the whole world was upside down. The moon rested in a field of grass. Stars grew on trees like tiny silver apples. Houses hung from the sky with smoke curling downward from their chimneys, and a flock of birds walked calmly across the clouds. Ginger landed softly beside a road that ran above her head. A rabbit floated past carrying an umbrella. “Excuse me,” Ginger called. “Why is everything upside down?” The rabbit looked around. “Upside down from where?” Ginger opened her mouth, then closed it. She hadn't thought of that.

She started walking. Or at least she thought she was walking. Sometimes her feet touched the ground, and sometimes they didn't. When she came to a little stream, the water flowed upward and disappeared into a cloud. Fish swam through the air above it, flicking their tails as though flying were the most ordinary thing in the world. Farther along, Ginger found a forest where the trees grew downward from the sky. Their roots twisted among the clouds, while their leafy branches brushed the ground. Ginger ducked beneath them and discovered tiny doors tucked among the leaves. One opened, and a mouse wearing a nightcap looked out. “Morning,” he said. “But it's nighttime,” Ginger replied. “Not here.” Then he closed the door.

Soon Ginger reached a hill that went down when she climbed it and up when she tried to descend. She tried three times before sitting down and laughing. Nothing in this world behaved the way it was supposed to. After a while, Ginger stopped trying to make it. She danced beneath stars growing from branches. She jumped into a cloud and discovered it was soft enough to bounce on. She chased a school of flying fish and drank from a raindrop that floated beside her like a tiny glass ball.

Eventually Ginger found the moon resting in the grass. It was much smaller up close than she had expected. She sat beside it and leaned against its warm silver curve. “I think I like your world,” Ginger said. The moon glowed a little brighter. “But I don't understand it.” The moon said nothing. Ginger smiled. Maybe she didn't have to.

She rested her head against the moon and looked up. Far above her was her bedroom, hanging upside down among the stars. Her little bed waited on the ceiling—or perhaps it was the floor. Ginger wasn't sure anymore. She suddenly felt very sleepy. The moon gave a gentle little shiver, and Ginger began to float upward.

She passed the flying fish and the upside-down trees. She waved to the rabbit with the umbrella and drifted past houses hanging from the sky. Higher and higher she floated until she slipped through her bedroom roof and landed softly beneath her blanket. Everything was right-side up again. Her slippers were on the floor. Ginger reached down and touched them just to make sure.

Then she pulled the blanket beneath her chin and closed her eyes. Just before she fell asleep, Ginger wondered whether she had dreamed the upside-down world—or whether somewhere, perhaps on the other side of the moon, a rabbit carrying an umbrella was telling everyone about the strange little girl who insisted that his world was upside down.

And that thought made Ginger smile all the way back to sleep.