"Why can't I wear a dress?" Morris Micklewhite asks sincerely as two sneering girls bear down on him.

Because dresses are for girls and you're a boy, they tell him adamantly.

Morris remains silent for a few seconds, but his thoughts can be read clearly on his pre-adolescent face: Just watch me.

Morris (Scout Groshong) is a font of earnest confidence in the stage version of "Morris Micklewhite and the Tangerine Dress," which premiered over the weekend at the Children's Theatre Company in Minneapolis.

Groshong, who alternates with Mathias Brinda in the title role, imbues Morris with an imperturbable surety. He answers questions from the curious with patience and politeness. He may be hurt by those who exclude him from the lunch table or their playground games, but he will not give in to their meanness, even if that means he has to go deeper into himself to cope, playing as he does with his own toys and dreaming of flying in outer space.

Teaming with composer Rick Sims, whose ever-present pastoral compositions lend an air of openness to the show, director Heidi Stillman has paced the one-act as a gentle, meditative study. The action flows at a measured pace, with opportunities for the characters, and the audience, to breathe and let the lessons sink in.

That tempo is apt because Morris is a kid who lives in his thoughts and dreams. And it is in his imagination that he gets to make a world that's comfortable for him.

Playwright Juliany Taveras' adaptation of the 2014 picture book by Christine Baldacchino and Isabelle Malenfant offers a kind of "Mr. Rogers"-style economy. She uses the frame of a week, starting on a Sunday, to show Morris' experiences at home and school. Just by choosing to put a tangerine dress over his clothes, Morris raises questions that none of the kids in his school had ever pondered. And his curiosity, and difference, helps to free them from assumptions they carry.

Scenic designers William Boles and Sotirios Livaditis have configured CTC's Cargill Stage in a three-quarter round, with a long runway as the main playing area. A bookshelf at the back, for when Morris is at school, gets covered by a tinsel curtain when locales switch to home.

The action begins at night, with the sounds of crickets and a great horned owl, as Morris sleeps. He has toy animals nearby, which he plays with as he makes up stories.

Using chairs and rocky choreography, Stillman creates bus rides for Morris and his schoolmates between scenes, driving the story forward with these interstitial elements.

The sole adult in "Morris" is neat and generous. Joy Dolo imbues Morris' mother, Moira, and also Ms. Melo, his teacher, with understanding and empathy.

Make no mistake. "Morris" is slight in appearance, coming in at just under 50 minutes. But it has profound meaning, especially for those who cotton to hard, fixed binaries. Morris, the person, shows that light can be manifested from the imagination, from the dreams that occupy the in-between liminal spaces.

'Morris Micklewhite and the Tangerine Dress'

Who: Adapted by Juliany Taveras. Directed by Heidi Stillman.

Where: Children's Theatre Company, 2400 3rd Av. S., Mpls.

When: 7 p.m. Thu.-Sat., 2 & 5 p.m. Sun. Ends Nov. 19.

Tickets: $15-$72. 612-874-0400, childrenstheatre.org.