Or so it should be, thought Sarah. Why haven't I been picked yet? Each morning, as the sun rose over her little field, she'd prepared herself for the day that she would be chosen, but she hadn't been.

She just didn't understand it. She'd made herself extra-beautiful, her skin glowing in the sun, hair neatly arranged, seeds shining. She'd even refused the use of the ever popular flavour-enhancers that many of her friends were using to increase their chances.

Perhaps I should take some after all, she thought idly, as the next lot of strawberry pickers walked past. They never seem to look at me.

It wasn't like she wasn't good enough. She'd seen strawberries far worse than herself chosen. That Ruby, for example - rotten to the core! Many of them were, these days. But they never see it, thought Sarah, watching another family come past, and they won't see it either...

Such were her thoughts when, suddenly, a hand shot out and pulled her from the bush. It took her a minute to realise what was happening, but before long, she was hopping with excitement. Finally, she'd been picked!

That night, the Robinsons had strawberries and cream, and Sarah was the biggest, roundest, sweetest strawberry of all.