There was once a dove who stole a sliver of the moon. It was the tiniest of slivers, no bigger than a fingernail. And yet the moon noticed.
'Why did you take a piece of me?' the moon asked the dove.
'I thought you might be able to spare it,' answered the dove, in a manner much entitled. 'For the night is long, and your time in the night is short, thus I did hope for something greater to see by.'
'A ready answer, but shorter thoughts,' said the Moon. 'For none of me will shine unless it is the time of night when I send forth my beams.'
The dove hung her head, chagrined. 'I did not know this.'
The moon smiled gently, and let her beams rest upon the dove's back. 'Ah,' she said, 'that is why it is so much better to ask.'