The hammer rang once. A spark jumped off the anvil and did not go out. It waited. They followed.

It skipped across the Green and into the print shop. It stopped on the long table, next to a square of paper.

"Fold me, I won't mind," said Kami.

"Somewhere with books," said Inkling. "Old ones."

"Then fold me in half," said Kami, "and in half again, like the cover of a little book."

They folded Kami in half, and in half again. The last crease went flat, and the paper opened like a door.

They stood in a bright room with a tall window. Outside, a boat slid past on green water.

"Italy," said Kami. "Venice. The year is 1501."

A wooden press stood in the middle of the room. Men were stacking great printed sheets. On one table lay books as big as tea trays.

On another bench lay a little pile of small books, no bigger than a hand.

A girl in a blue apron was looking at them. She had dark curls under a white cap.

"I'm Bettina," she said. "My father binds the books here. These little ones are new. Master Aldus says people should be able to carry books about. But they are not for me."

She held up one sheet of paper. It was printed on one side, with a smudge right across it. "This one is spoiled. I may keep it. I want a book of my own, for my pocket. For my grandmother's stories."

"It's only one sheet," said Lan.

"Then let's make it a whole book," said Inkling.

"Read the drawing before your hands move," said Mark.

Inkling drew the plan on the blank side, very lightly. Eight boxes, two rows of four. Dashes along every fold. In the very middle, between the two middle boxes, one short solid line.

"Dashes mean fold," said Mark. "A solid line means cut."

"Make the edges meet exactly," said Cornelia.

Bettina folded the sheet in half. Then in half again. Then in half once more. When she opened it, the creases made eight neat boxes.

"I'll do the cut!" said Lan. She grabbed the scissors and started along the whole middle fold.

"Look where the line stops," said Mark.

Lan froze. The line on the drawing stopped at the middle boxes. If she cut all the way, the sheet would fall into two loose strips.

"Not all the way through, please!" said Kami. "Leave me a bridge."

Lan put the scissors down. "You do it," she said to Bettina. "Just the short line."

Bettina cut only the short line in the middle.

Inkling held the two ends and pushed them together. The middle was meant to open into a cross. Instead the paper bulged and puffed, like a cushion.

"It won't open," said Inkling.

"Smooth it out and try again," said Crinkle. "The crease remembers. Your folds are soft. Make them sharp."

They opened the sheet flat. They folded every line again, one by one, and ran their thumbnails along each crease.

This time, when Inkling pushed the ends together, the middle opened into a neat cross.

"Now press it flat," said Presso.

They folded the cross round, so the boxes lay one on top of another, like pages. Presso pressed the spine.

"A pocket book has to pass two tests," said Kami. "It has to fit a pocket. And its pages have to turn in order."

Bettina wrote small numbers in the corners: one, two, three, all the way to eight. She turned the pages. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. In order.

"I'm still one piece of paper," said Kami. "Eight pages, and still one sheet."

Inkling folded the little book shut and slipped it into Bettina's apron pocket.

It fit.

Bettina patted the pocket and laughed. "Now I need eight stories," she said, and ran off along the canal to find her grandmother.

They unfolded a plain square, and the door closed behind them.

Back on the Green

The spark dimmed to a warm dot and settled back on the anvil. The Green was just the Green again.

Lan folded a pocket book from an old drawing. She cut only the short line, and she drew a story inside, one picture on every page.