Barnaby Beagle was no ordinary beagle. Oh no, Barnaby had a secret: he could run on water! Not just a little tiptoe, either. Barnaby could *sprint* across the shimmering surface of Lilypad Lake, his brown fur a blur against the sparkling water. He discovered his amazing ability quite by accident. He'd been chasing a particularly plump bumblebee, buzzing lazily near the lake's edge. The bee, in a moment of utter bee-bravado, zipped right across the water, landing on a giant lily pad. Barnaby, in hot pursuit, leaped – and instead of splashing down with a soggy thump, he found himself *running* on the water! At first, he was terrified. He yelped, expecting to sink, but his paws stayed dry. He looked down, expecting to see his reflection, but instead he saw the tiny, dancing reflections of the sun and the fluffy clouds above. He giggled, a happy, surprised sound. From that day on, Lilypad Lake became Barnaby's personal playground. He'd zoom across the surface, leaving a tiny trail of ripples in his wake. He'd leap and twirl, performing amazing acrobatic feats, his tail wagging furiously. The ducks, who usually kept their distance, would watch in wide-eyed wonder. Even the grumpy old heron, Mr. Claws, would crane his neck to admire Barnaby's watery ballet. One day, a little girl named Lily, with bright eyes and hair the color of sunshine, came to the lake. She saw Barnaby, his paws skimming the water, and gasped. Barnaby, never one to miss a chance to make a friend, slowed down and trotted towards her, his tongue lolling happily. Lily giggled, her laughter as bright and clear as the lake itself. She reached out a hand, and Barnaby nudged it gently with his wet nose. From that day on, Lily and Barnaby were the best of friends, sharing secrets and laughter, with Barnaby's amazing talent as the best-kept – and most wonderfully wet – secret of Lilypad Lake.