It was a mild evening at the end of summer, and in Ziggy's garden the sky was beginning to turn pink and purple. Ziggy, Lily, Skye and Dash were sitting on the grass with a little bowl of soapy water, blowing bubbles. They blew gently into a small wire ring, and out of the ring came shiny round bubbles that floated up high and then popped with a little "pop.".

"Look at mine!" said Dash, and blew one as big as a melon. The bubble rose, and rose, and Ziggy's four cats watched it, enchanted. Sofia, the little black kitten, meowed softly. Dora, the brave tabby cat, lifted a paw to touch it. Poldo, fat and soft, yawned. And Milo, tall and nimble, made a great big jump and the bubble popped on his little nose. "Pop!"

The children laughed. Then, from far away, came a sound they knew well.

"CHUFFFF CHUFFFF!"

Out from the garden bushes came a little train, all colorful, with wheels that sparkled and a puff of white smoke above its chimney. It was Toby the Magic Train.

"Good evening, dear children, what a beautiful night," said Toby in his singsong voice, "tonight I will carry you up to a magical height. Up there in the clouds all is quiet and grey, and one little gesture can chase it away!"

The children clapped their hands. They all climbed onto the train, and the four cats jumped in last, settling onto the soft seats. "CHUFFFF!" And the train set off, but not on rails: it lifted into flight, light as air, and turned into a great colorful hot air balloon rising into the evening sky.

They rose above the rooftops, above the hills, above the first stars that were beginning to twinkle like a thousand tiny lights. "So many stars!" whispered Skye, her eyes wide open. The balloon climbed slowly, swaying, until something wonderful appeared in front of them.

It was a carousel. But not an ordinary carousel. It was The Cloud Carousel: a great merry-go-round hanging in the sky, with many winged horses that, instead of spinning around a pole, flew round and round in the air. At least, they usually flew. Because that evening they were all still. Motionless. Hanging in the sky as if asleep.

"How strange," said Lily, stepping off the balloon onto a soft cloud. "Why aren't they moving?"

The little horses had their wings lowered and a sad look about them. One of them, all white, said in a tiny voice: "We can't fly. The Wind has fallen asleep. And without wind, our wings are no use at all."

Ziggy looked up. Indeed, the air was still. Not even a little leaf was stirring. Up there, stretched out on a great cushion of clouds, was the Wind: a big round gentleman with a long, soft beard, sleeping deeply and every now and then going "fffffuuuu" in his sleep.

"We have to wake him up!" said Dash. And he started to yell: "WIIIND! WAKE UUUP!" But the Wind did not move. He only snored louder.

"Wait," said a tiny voice from behind a cloud. "You can't wake him with shouting. He gets angry, and then he blows everything away."

The children turned around. From behind the cloud, ever so shyly, appeared a tiny butterfly. She had wings of a thousand colors, and wherever she passed she left a trail of sparkling dust, like little glitter in the sky.

"Hello!" said Skye sweetly. "What's your name?"

"My name is Fiammetta," answered the butterfly, hiding half of herself behind the cloud. "But I can't help you. I'm too small. My wingbeat doesn't count for anything. It's so light that no one can feel it."

"Everything counts," said Skye, and smiled at her.

But Fiammetta shook her head and hid again.

Meanwhile Ziggy had sat down on the cloud-grass and was thinking. Thinking, and scratching his head. He looked at the sleeping Wind, looked at the still horses, looked at the colorful balloon. And then, all of a sudden, his eyes flew wide open.

"AHA!" he cried, and gave a little hop. "I have an idea! The Wind won't wake up with a shout. He'll wake up with a tickle! When something tickles us, we laugh and we wake up, right?"

"Right!" said Dash. "But how do you tickle the Wind?"

"With a giant pinwheel!" said Ziggy. "A pinwheel spins and spins, and makes its own wind. And if we spin it right under the Wind's nose, it'll tickle him and he'll wake up laughing!"

Lily smiled. "I like it. So how do we build it?"

Ziggy looked around. "We need some colorful cloth, and some ribbons." His eyes fell on the balloon. "The balloon's cloth! And the horses' ribbons!"

The little horses, though sad, nodded. "Take our ribbons, if it can help."

And so the work began. Ziggy rolled up the great colorful cloth and tied it into the shape of a star, with four big blades. Lily knotted the ribbons one after another, firm and tight, until they had a long, strong rope. Skye, with her gentle hands, smoothed the cloth so it wouldn't fold. And Dash, quick as ever, ran back and forth carrying the pieces.

The cats helped in their own way. Dora, brave, held a blade still with her paws. Poldo, fat and heavy, sat on the knot to keep it pressed down. Sofia purred to give courage. And Milo, nimble, leaped from one ribbon to another to check they were all tied well.

When the pinwheel was ready, it was huge and beautiful, with all the colors of the rainbow. But there was a problem: it had to be carried up high, near the Wind's nose, and made to spin. And the only way was to climb the carousel's mast, the tall one in the middle of the merry-go-round.

"I'll do it," said Ziggy.

And now came the hardest moment. Ziggy took a breath, placed his hands on the carousel's mast, and began to climb. Up, up, up. His arms ached a little, but he gritted his teeth and kept climbing. Milo hopped beside him, from ribbon to ribbon, to keep him company. Once Ziggy slipped, and everyone's heart jumped, but he held on tight with his legs and did not fall. "I can do it!" he said, and kept on climbing.

When he reached the top, Ziggy tied the giant pinwheel to the highest point, right under the Wind's nose. Then, with all his might, he began to spin it with his hands. Spin, spin, spin. The pinwheel picked up speed, and its colorful blades made a light little breeze.

The little breeze reached all the way to the Wind's nose. The Wind twitched his nose. "Hmm..." But he did not wake up.

Ziggy spun harder and harder, but the pinwheel alone wasn't enough. "Something's missing," he said, panting. "A spark is missing. A first puff, a tiny tiny one, to get it all started."

Everyone looked at Fiammetta.

The butterfly trembled. "But I... I'm too small."

Ziggy climbed down a little along the mast and looked her in the eyes. "Fiammetta, listen. I'm not asking you for a big puff. I'm only asking you to beat your wings once. Just once. Right here, near the pinwheel."

"And what if it's no use at all?" she whispered.

"And what if it makes all the difference?" said Ziggy, and smiled at her.

Fiammetta looked at the pinwheel. She looked at the sleeping Wind. She looked at Skye, who was nodding sweetly. And then, ever so slowly, she flew up to the pinwheel. She closed her eyes. And she beat her wings. Just once.

It was a tiny little beat. Light as a puff of nothing. But her sparkling dust flew onto the blades of the pinwheel, and the pinwheel caught it, and multiplied it, and spun even harder. The little breeze became a breeze. The breeze rose straight, straight up into the Wind's nose.

And the Wind... sneezed. "Aaa-choo!" Then he felt the tickle, and started to laugh. "Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha! Who's tickling me?" He opened his eyes, stretched, and with a great laugh began to blow. "FFFFFUUUUUU!"

The wind blew through the sky again. And the winged horses, at last, spread their wings and began flying round and round, happy. The Cloud Carousel was turning once more.

"Hooray!" cried the children. They all climbed onto the horses and twirled beneath the stars, laughing, with the cats purring as they clung to the manes.

And Fiammetta? Fiammetta didn't hide behind the cloud anymore. She flew among them all, leaving trails of a thousand colors, and for the first time she didn't feel small. Because she had understood something important: it had been her wingbeat, the smallest of all, that set the whole wind moving again.

"You see?" Ziggy said to her, flying beside her. "Your little puff was exactly what was missing."

When it was time to go home, the balloon carried them gently back down to the garden. And there, waiting for them, was Toby, with his gentle "CHUFFFF."

"Dear children, what a flying adventure tonight," said Toby, "you've learned something true and wonderfully right: even a gesture so gentle and small can wake up the whole wide world for us all. Now off to bed, the evening grows deep, and dream of the butterfly's trail as you sleep!"

The children waved goodbye to Toby as the little train disappeared among the bushes. And that night, looking out the window at the sky full of stars, each one of them thought that no, no gesture is ever too small to count.