From all the frogs that lived in the pool of the forest, without a doubt, Rosamunda was most particular. Not only  by its pretty green color, nor by its precious eyes bulging, but by their musicals restlessness. Already in its childhood, when it was only a tadpole, unlike its three hundred brothers and sisters, who spent the hours swimming, up and down the pool, she prefered to remain very quiet, next to a water flower, listening to the music of the forest. She loves the sound of the air through canes, the noise of rain striking the leaves of the trees that surrounded their surroundings and the " ploc-ploc " of the drops that, slipping by the bigger leaves, fell to the pool.
They spent the months and finally Rosamunda was a done and right frog. How it had wished that this moment arrived! To be adult didn' t fascinate her very much, the tadpole life was much more rested, but finally she had a voice, she could ribbit with the rest of the family and to even comprise of the choir of frogs that, every night, resonated in the pool.

Rosamunda had a voice... And what a voice! Her elegant way of ribbiting, her pitch, her form to modulate, her agile coloratura... She was the envie of others frogs of the choir and the pride of its mother who, listening to her, ravished,  said to the other mothers: "She is my Rosamunda ".

Like this, calmly, singing with her companions,  Rosamunda' s life goes on. Until a day of the wonderful month of May...