The Sun's Babies

by Edith Howes

[Frontispiece: "'Why has your tree no flowers while ours are pink?'" (missing from book)]

The

Sun's Babies

By Edith Howes

Author of "Fairy Rings,"
"Rainbow Children," etc.

With Four Illustrations in Colour by
FRANK WATKINS

Cassell and Company, Ltd

London, New York, Toronto and Melbourne

1913

First published October 1910.
Reprinted September and November 1911, August 1912, January 1913.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

CONTENTS

[The Sun-Man's Babies]
[The Snowdrop Baby]
[Little Golden Heart]
[Dickie Codlin]
[The Apple Fairy]
[Johnny Crocus]
[The Daffodil Baby]
[Daffodils]
[Willy Wallflower]
[Sweet Violet]
[The Cherry Children]
[The Daisy Fairy]
[My Garden]
[Bed-time]
[Pansy]
[May Fairies]
[The Dragon]
[Gold Broom and White Broom]
[Kitty Crayfish's Housekeeping]
[The Garden Party]
[Bluebells]
[Cowslips]
[Of Royal Blood]
[Billybuzz the Drone]
[Honey]
[On the Hillside]
[The Sun's Nest]
[Crikitty-Crik]
[The Discontented Root]
[Creepy-Crawly]
[Blackie]
[Little Birds]
[The Brownies]
[Brave Rose-Pink]
[Sweet-Pea Land]
[Mrs. Frog, Mr. Frog, and the Little Frog]
[Buttercups]
[Spinny Spider]
[Spinny Spider's Children]
[Tinyboy]
[The Mosquito Babies]
[The Scrambler]
[Woollymoolly]
[Thistle-Mother]
[Sally Snail's Wanderings]
[Milly Mushroom]
[Wiggle-Waggle]
[The Leaf Fairies]
[Bunny-Boy]
[Love-Mother]
[The Hill Princess]
[Urchins in the Sea]
Where White Waves Play—
(I) [Red-Bill]
(II) [The Sea-Squirt who Stood on his Head]
(III) [Bobby Barnacle's Wanderings]
(IV) [Little Starfish]
(V) [Kelp]
(VI) [Black Shag]
(VII) [Through Days of Growth]
(VIII) [Fanny Flatface]
(IX) [The Oyster Babies]
[Fanny Fly]
[At Sunset]
[Summer Tears]
[The Wheat People]
[Chick-a-Pick]
[Chick-a-Pick's Crow]
[The Gorse-Mother]
[The Proud Paling Fence]
[Tail-up]
[The Rain-Fairy]
[The Disobedient Sunbeams]
[White-Brier]
[A Trip into the Country]
[Grey-King]
[The Season Fairies]
[Spring Story]
[Spring Time]
[Summer Story]
[Summer Time]
[Autumn Story]
[Autumn Time]
[Winter Story]
[Winter Time]

LIST OF PLATES

[ "'WHY HAS YOUR TREE NO FLOWERS WHILE OURS ARE PINK?'"] . . . Frontispiece

[ "WHEN SHE SAW TINYBOY, SHE HID HER FACE SHYLY IN HER CURLS" ]

[ "IN THE WOOD THE LEAF FAIRIES WERE BUSY MAKING THEIR LEAVES" ]

[ "SHE WENT TO THE AFTERNOON CLOUDS AND ASKED THEM TO PLAY WITH HER" ]

THE SUN-MAN'S BABIES

The Moon-Man sent his stars to bed,
And turned a pitying eye
To where the Sun-Man sailed alone,
Across the eastern sky.

"Poor thing!" he said. "How sad to have
No children round your knee.
A thousand thousand stars are mine
How lonely you must be!"

The Sun-Man laughed a jolly laugh.
He pointed far below,
To where the shining busy earth
Swung golden in his glow.

"A million million babes are mine,"
He said, "on yonder earth;
My sunbeams wrap them all the day,
To me they owe their birth.

"A million million babes smile up
From dawn till day is done.
And when I say my last good-night
I kiss them every one."

THE SUN'S BABIES

THE SNOWDROP BABY

The Snowdrop Baby lay in her little cradle under the ground. Do you know how white and smooth the Snowdrop cradle is, and how snugly the silky sheets are tucked round the baby?

Above the ground it was summer. The birds sang, the bees hummed, the roses and pinks talked to one another across the beds. "What a number of flowers are out this year!" they said. "The garden is full of blossom." Do you know that the flowers talk?

The Snowdrop Baby listened to it all. "I am not needed yet," she said. She turned over and went to sleep.

Summer passed, and autumn came. Asters and dahlias talked to one another now, and tiger lilies bloomed in the garden.

The Snowdrop Baby woke and listened. "My time is not yet come," she said. She slept again.

Winter came. Frost following frost killed all the flowers; storm after storm blew the dead leaves away, leaving the brown stalks bare. Snow fell, and melted. A tiny drop crept down to where the Snowdrop Baby lay. Do you know how the water-drops creep down?

"Your time has come," it said.

"Yes," said the Baby joyfully; "I am making my white frock. Soon I shall go up."

Next day she was ready. She pushed her way through the soft wet earth, and reached the top. Up yet, and up, till she hung on her green stalk high above the ground.

How beautiful she looked in her snowy frock! Pure white it was, except for here and there a splash of softest green. Do you know how lovely Snowdrop Babies are?

She turned her face to the ground, for the sun dazzled her, and made her shy; but a bird saw her. "A Snowdrop! A Snowdrop!" he sang. "Spring is coming, sweet spring is coming!" Do you know how sweet spring is?

LITTLE GOLDEN HEART

A field-daisy opened her golden heart, and looked up at the blue sky. The warm sun shone on her, and the morning wind blew softly over her; but the daisy was afraid. "The world is so wide, and I am so small," she sighed. "I cannot be of any use. Perhaps it would be better to fold my petals and hide my head."

A bee flew down and settled on the daisy. "Dear little Golden Heart, how sweet you are!" she whispered. "How your white petals shine! Their tips are pink, as if the wind had kissed them. Will you give me honey and pollen to make bee bread for the babies in the hive?"

The daisy shook with joy. "Take all I have," she said. "How glad I am to find that I am loved and needed!"

A lark dropped from the sky, singing a glorious song that told about the beauty of the clouds. He saw the daisy.

"Dear little Golden Heart, how sweet you are!" he sang, as he came down. "How your white petals shine! Their tips are pink, as if the wind had kissed them. Will you stay there and bloom so that my babies peeping from their nest may watch you all the day? They love to look at pretty, shining things."

"Gladly, gladly!" cried the daisy. "How sweet it is to think that they should like to look at me!"

A little girl came tripping over the short grass. When she saw the daisy she ran to it and knelt beside it. She touched it lovingly.

"Dear little Golden Heart, how sweet you are!" she said. "How your white petals shine! Their tips are pink, as if the wind had kissed them. Will you stay here and bloom till I may bring the baby out to see you?"

"Oh, how willingly!" whispered the daisy. Now her golden heart was full of joy.

"What a happy, happy world!" she thought. "Although it is so wide, there is a place for me. I can be useful and give pleasure. What could be better than that?"

Thankfully she spread her shining petals to the sun. When night came she folded their tips together, and hung her head, to rest till morning light again brought happiness.

DICKIE CODLIN

The spring winds rocked Dickie Codlin to and fro as he lay in his scented cradle, and the happy bees buzzed their honey song over him. For he lay wrapped in his tiny egg-skin in the heart of an apple blossom. Mrs. Moth had gently laid him there only a day or two before.

The pink apple-petals loosened their hold and dropped to the ground, and the flower closed up and grew into an apple. And Dickie Codlin hatched himself out of his egg-skin and grew into a little caterpillar, with a pink and white skin and ever so many fat, short legs. He still lived on in the heart of the apple.

It was a delightful place to have for a home, for the walls were made of the food he liked best, and all he had to do was to turn himself round and nibble. So he stayed there, eating and growing, till he could not grow any bigger. Then he ate his way out to the skin.

He stood in the entrance of the opening he had made, and looked down. "Dear me!" he said, "it seems a long way to the ground. But I must reach it somehow."

He sat down on the apple and spun a silk thread, fixed it to the hole through which he had come, and dropped by it. "Good-bye, apple-home," he called as he went; but the apple said nothing, for its heart was eaten out.

When he reached the ground he hurried to the trunk of the tree, crawled up it till he found a loose scrap of bark, and crept under this safe hiding-place.

"Now I am going to make my new clothes for my wedding," he said; so he spun a little silk workroom for himself. Into this he crept, and here he made his new clothes for his wedding. He made a brown velvet suit and beautiful bronze-tipped wings trimmed with gold-dust.

By and by he came out looking wonderfully neat and handsome. Off he flew into the warm, scented air to be married to pretty Miss Codlin. It was a splendid wedding. Everybody wore new clothes and danced in the maze dance, and after that they had a honey feast.

THE APPLE FAIRY

She was usually a busy little fairy, but one year she grew lazy. "I am going to take a rest," she said; "I don't see why I should work so hard. I shall sleep all the winter and play all the summer, and the apple-tree can take care of itself."

She curled herself up in her snug little bed, down amongst the roots of the apple-tree, and there she slept through the winter, creeping out only now and again to peep and shiver at the cold, wet world outside. No work was done in the workroom, where in other winters she had been so busy, and so, when the spring came, and all the other apple-trees were wreathed in sweet pink flowers, hers alone stood bare and brown.

The bees came round the tree, buzzing their surprise and disappointment. "Wake up, Apple Fairy!" they called. "The spring has come, and your tree is bare. Where are our honey-cups and pollen-bags?" The moths and early butterflies came fluttering round the bees, for they too were anxious about the honey-cups. But the Apple Fairy gave them no satisfaction. "Go away," she called from her bed; "I don't care about your old honey-cups; I am going to rest." So they had to fly away to other trees.

The birds came next. "Why, Apple Fairy, where are your flowers?" they chirped. "At this rate there will be no apples, and that will be a sad loss to us, for yours were the sweetest in the garden."

"Go away," called the Apple Fairy. "I don't care about your old apples; I am going to rest."

"How very strange!" said the birds to one another. "This is not like our little Apple Fairy of other springs." They flew away to the flowered trees to sing.

The sun shone brightly, the air was clear and warm, and the apple fairies came up from their workrooms for their spring dance on the young clover-leaves. "But where is our little sister?" they asked. They ran to her tree, only to find it bare and empty.

"Where are you, little sister?" they called.

She came up and stood on a branch to look at them.

"What is the matter?" they asked. "Why has your tree no flowers, while ours are pink? Where are your petals? Perhaps you have not yet had time to unroll them all. Shall we help you?"

"No, thank you," she said; "I am having a rest; there will be no apples this year on my tree, for I have slept all the winter and am going to play all the summer."

The fairies looked shocked. "You mustn't do that!" they cried. "Why, if we all did that there would be no apples at all!"

"I don't care about the old apples," she said sulkily, and down she went again.

She came up a few minutes later to peep at the happy fairies dancing on the clover, while the birds sang their gayest songs, and the crickets played their little banjos; but she did not join them, for she felt that they did not approve of her laziness. "Ah, well, my leaves will soon be out, for I put the buds on last summer," she said to herself. "When they come I shall make a swing, and swing all through the long sunny days."

Soon the leaves opened out. She made the swing, hung it on a branch, and sat in it in the pleasant shade, while the other fairies polished up the growing apples and formed the buds for the next year's leaves. She was not really happy, but she tried to think she was. She was rather lonely, and, somehow, it was dull when there was nothing to do. But she did not go down to her work; she swung herself to and fro, to and fro, till the autumn came, and the apples on the other trees were ripe.

One day a merry, childish voice floated through the garden: "Oh, grandpa! it's my birthday, so I have come for an apple off your best tree."

Then at last the Apple Fairy hung her head, and was sorry, for her punishment had come. Every year, on her birthday, pretty little Elsie had been given the best apple in the garden, and every year until now the Apple Fairy had been proud to know that it had been picked from her tree. Now, alas! she had no apples. Elsie would be disappointed; and she was very fond of Elsie.

Elsie was indeed disappointed. She listened to her grandfather as he told her how his best apple-tree had failed this year, and how he thought he must cut it down if it did not do better next year. Then Elsie came and stood under the tree and looked up anxiously into the branches. "I am so sorry!" she said aloud. "I wonder if it will have apples on next year? I do hope it will."

"It shall! Indeed it shall!" cried the Apple Fairy. She sprang to the end of a branch so that Elsie could see her. "I have been lazy," she said. "I have slept all the winter and have played all the summer, but now I shall work. You shall have apples next year. Good-bye, little Elsie! Here is my swing."

She took down her swing, put it into Elsie's hands, and went down to her workroom. Elsie was so astonished at the sight of a real fairy and a real fairy swing that she could find nothing to say; but, when she came again the next year, the apples on her favourite tree were again the finest in the garden, and the Apple Fairy was again busy and happy.

JOHNNY CROCUS

"Wake up! Wake up, little Johnny Crocus! Sit on my knee and begin to grow."

Johnny woke up, sat on his mother's knee, and began to grow. His mother fed him on rich white food, and wrapped him warmly in soft blankets, so he grew big and strong. They lived together under the ground, in a little round house with brown walls.

One day Johnny said: "Now, I should like to go up and see what the world is like. May I go up to-day?"

"Not yet," said his mother. "You must make your flower first."

So Johnny set to work to make his flower. In the middle he set the pistil with its fans. Round the pistil he put the orange-coloured stamens with their long narrow sacks on their heads, ready to be filled with pollen. Outside the stamens he made a row of petals, small and closely folded now, but soon to grow big and wide. Then he wrapped a fine white silk cloak round the whole flower to keep it from harm.

"My flower is made," he said to his mother. "May I go up now to see what the world is like?"

"Not yet," said the mother. "Make your leaves first."

So he made his leaves and set them closely round the flower. They were long and thin and pale yellow, for they could not turn green till they reached the sunlight.

"My leaves are made," he said to his mother. "May I go up now to see what the world is like?"

"Not yet," said his mother. "Make your pollen first."

So he made his pollen, and filled the long sacks with it. Then his flower was quite ready. He wrapped one white silk cloak after another over flower and leaves together, till they were so snugly covered that no greedy insect could reach them.

"My pollen is made," he said to his mother. "May I go up now to see what the world is like?"

"Yes," said his mother. Johnny jumped for joy. He pushed and pushed through the brown earth above him; at last out popped his little head into the light.

The winter had not yet gone; snow still lay in shaded places. But the sun was shining, and he shone now full on Johnny Crocus. The silken cloaks fell away, the leaves sprang out and turned green, and slowly the flower opened its beautiful golden heart to the warmth of the sunshine.

"Why, there is Johnny Crocus!" called the sun. He shone more brightly than ever on the gleaming petals.

"If Johnny is up we must be stirring too," said the other crocuses. They sprang up and nodded and laughed to Johnny across the ground. Then the snowdrops peeped out, and soon the whole garden woke up, and the spring came.

THE DAFFODIL BABY

It was winter time, and the Daffodil Baby lay wrapped in her warm brown blankets under the ground. But she was not a contented Baby; she wanted to be up above the ground to see what the great world was like. "It is very dull down here," she said to her little friend, the Earth-worm. "Do please go up and see if it is time for me to rise."

The Earth-worm wriggled his way to the top of the ground, but he soon came back, shivering with cold. "Don't think of going up yet," he said; "lie down and sleep again in your warm blankets. On the earth there is nothing to be seen but snow and ice. You would be frozen if you went up now."

So the Daffodil Baby lay down and went to sleep, and slept for many days and nights. By and by, however, she woke and grew restless again. "Please see if I may go up yet," she said. The kind Earth-worm went up again, but came back as quickly as before. "Stay where you are," he cried. "It has rained so much that all the garden is flooded. You would be drowned if you went up now."

The Daffodil Baby had to lie down again. She tried to sleep, but she only grew more restless day by day. At last she begged the little Earth-worm to go up once more and see what the world was like. This time he came back smiling. "You may safely go up now," he said. "The snow and floods are all away, and the sunbeams are there. They are looking for you."

The Daffodil Baby jumped for joy. She sprang out of her blankets and began to push her way up as fast as she could, wrapping herself as she went in a warm, thick cloak of green. When she reached the top she felt the little sunbeams lay their warm hands on her, and she heard her tall leaf-brothers say to one another: "Here comes Baby." But she did not look out from her cloak, for she said to herself: "I must make my frock and grow bigger before I shall be ready to play with the sunbeams."

She worked away busily under her green cloak, and grew taller and taller every day. The little Earth-worm often came out to look at her, but all he could see was the green cloak. "Why don't you come out and see the world?" he would shout from his lowly place on the ground. She always answered: "Wait a little longer. I am making my frock."

At last, one beautiful spring morning, the frock was finished. "I am coming out now," cried the Daffodil Baby. The Earth-worm wriggled up to the top, and the sunbeams flew down to help. They tugged at the thick green cloak with their warm hands till it flew open. Out sprang the Daffodil Baby—a Daffodil Baby no longer, but grown into the loveliest little Daffodil Lady. Her frock was all yellow and frilled, and she wore the daintiest little green shoes. She was very beautiful. The Earth-worm heard everybody say that.

"What a glorious world!" cried the little yellow lady. "Now I am going to be very happy." And so she was. She played with the sunbeams, danced with the winds, and talked merrily to her green-leaf brothers. The bees and the moths came to see her every day; one warm day the first butterfly of the season came to visit her.

But with all her good times she did not grow proud. She was just as friendly with the Earth-worm, now when she stood so far above him, as she had been when under the ground. She often had long talks with him in the early mornings before the bees were awake. "Why don't you climb up here?" she asked him one day. "It is much nicer swaying in the wind, and I could talk to you so much more easily."

"I should grow giddy up there," answered the Earth-worm. "It is not the place for me at all. Besides, I shall be able to talk to you all through the long winter, when you are in your blankets again."

DAFFODILS

Oh the golden daffodils,
That open in the spring,
When gorse blooms out on all the hills,
And birds begin to sing!

They nod their heads, their yellow heads,
All down the garden walk;
As if they wish to leave their beds,
And run about, and talk.

Suppose they could! What jolly fun
To see them run and play!
Like golden children from the sun,
Come down to spend the day.

WILLY WALLFLOWER

The sun shone gaily, for it was the middle of summer. The flowers in the garden made love to the bees and tossed their pretty heads at one another. Only Willy Wallflower stood green and straight, for his flowers had not yet come.

"Wake up, Willy Wallflower!" called the Roses. "It is time you showed us your flowers."

"Not yet," said Willy Wallflower. "They are not ready."

"How slow you are!" cried the White Lily. "If you do not hurry, the summer will be over and the bees gone. Then what will be the use of your flowers?"

"I cannot help it," said Willy. "I was planted late, and am now busy making my wood. I will bloom when my time comes."

The summer passed and the autumn came, but still Willy Wallflower had no flowers, though he grew taller and stouter every day. Then the cold winter came. The flowers shivered themselves away to nothing, the bees took to staying in the hive all day.

The snow and ice passed, and the keen spring winds began to blow. Now Willy Wallflower was ready to make his flowers. He wrapped the little buds in their warm round tunics and set them in clusters amongst their sheltering leaves. "Grow high and open out," he said.

Slowly they grew high, and at last one mild day they pushed aside their tunics and opened out. They were very beautiful; four red velvety petals spread widely out on each side; in the middle there were six pale yellow stamens and a fluffy double pistil-head. Below the fluffy head was the long, slender seed-case, where the tiny baby seedlings waited for the pollen grains that were to make them grow.

"Where is our pollen?" the babies cried eagerly.

"Be patient," said Willy Wallflower. "Soon the bees will bring it."

But the bees were long in coming. Day after day Willy Wallflower and the babies waited, listening anxiously for the busy wings that did not come. The honey-cups were filled with sweetest honey, the petals poured out their delicious scent into the surrounding air, but no bees appeared.

"Wait a little longer," said Willy Wallflower. "They will surely come soon."

In the hive the bees hung in a mass on their comb to keep warm. In the centre was the Queen; round her clung her people, row after row, all quiet and orderly, and doing their best to help one another. As the outer ones grew cold they passed into the centre; at meal-times the inside ones passed out the honey to the others. From mouth to mouth it was passed till it reached the other row, everybody waiting his turn and showing no greediness. Every now and again they beat their wings to keep warm, but otherwise they were still, as they had been all the winter.

One day a warm breath of air floated in through the door. "That feels like spring!" cried the bees. "Perhaps the flowers are waking." Scouts were sent out to see.

Soon they came back. "The crocuses and primroses are opening," they reported, "and Willy Wallflower is all in bloom waiting for us."

"Then let us go!" said the bees. They flew straight out to Willy Wallflower.

"At last! at last!" cried the wee green babies joyfully. The bees dipped deep into the sweet honey-cups, carrying the pollen from the stamens of one flower to the fluffy pistil-heads of others. Then the pollen grains ran down into the seed-cases and helped the babies to grow into seeds.

SWEET VIOLET

A little girl brought a violet plant and a pansy plant to her teacher.

"See!" said she. "These were given to me. May I grow them in school?"

"Certainly," said the teacher. "Here are two little pots. We will plant them both, and set them on the broad window-sill. You can water them each day, and we shall see how well they will grow."

"This is dreadful," said the Pansy to the Violet, as they stood side by side on the window-sill. "How shall we bear the dust and heat of this room after the fresh sweet air of the garden? I am sure I shall die."

"Oh! it is not quite so bad as that," said the Violet. "It certainly is not so pleasant as the garden, but when the window is opened one feels better."

"My leaves are covered with dust already. How is one to breathe?" grumbled the Pansy.

"So are mine," said the Violet; "but never mind. Don't think about it. Let us turn our attention to making our flowers."

"You don't mean to say that you think of making a flower here!" cried the Pansy. "What would be the use? You would never be able to make good seed, for no bee or butterfly will ever find its way in amongst these close buildings."

"One never knows what may happen," said the Violet; "and it is better to be busy than to mope."

She set to work to make her flower, and took just as much care over it as if she had been out in the garden. She covered the slender stalk and pointed sepals with soft white fur, and filled her seed-box with tiny green balls. Then she drew honey guides down her blue silk petals, made her pollen, and filled her quaint honey-bag with honey, just as if she expected a bee or a butterfly at any moment.

"You are wasting your time," said the Pansy, who was doing nothing.

"I am busy, and that keeps me happy," said the Violet. She scented her petals and set their brushes on them.

"My violet has a flower on it!" cried the little girl. "Oh, how sweet it smells!" She watched the sun shining through the blue petals as the flower hung over the pot, and her eyes shone with pleasure. All through the day she turned to look at the Violet as soon as each little task was done, and at night she told her mother what had happened.

"I shall not mind if no bee finds me now," said the Violet. "My flower has given so much happiness that I am content, even if I never make good seed." The Pansy had nothing to say.

A few days later a wonderful thing happened. A bee came buzzing in at the open window and flew straight to the Violet.

"Sweet Violet," he said, "I have found you at last. Your scent came out to me as I was passing, and I have sought for you in all the windows. Have you any honey for me?"

"Plenty!" cried the Violet joyfully. "Dip deep and take all I have, dear friend."

"Thank you," said the Bee. "I will give you some pollen from your cousins in return. They are blooming in a window-box in the next street."

He brushed tiny pollen grains off his head and gave them to the Violet.

"Thank you," said the Violet. "Please take some of mine back to my cousins." She laid some of hers on his head, and he flew off.

Filled with joy, the Violet set to work to make her little green balls into seeds.

"Well, if I had thought a bee really would come, I would have made a flower too," said the Pansy.

THE CHERRY CHILDREN

It was early spring. The Cherry Children woke up and called: "Mother, may we go to play now?"

"Wait till I have made your fairy boats," said the Cherry Mother.

They lay still and waited, and she made their fairy boats, with white silk sails. Then they sprang up and played in the sunshine, sailing to and fro on the spring winds, and throwing tiny scent-balls out into the air. The bees and butterflies and silver moths came to visit them; everybody laughed and chattered and was happy.

After a while the Cherry Children grew tired.

"Mother," they called, "we have played enough. We should like to rest now."

"Creep into your little green cradles," said the Cherry Mother. "Rest there and grow while I make your cradles big."

They crept into their cradles. The mother gently loosened the white sails and dropped them on the ground, where they lay like scented snowflakes. Then she made the cradles bigger as the children grew. She lined the wooden walls with softest satin, and covered them with a thick green covering. The winds blew and rocked the little cradles to and fro; from the neighbouring trees the birds sang soft lullabies, and watched and waited.

The green cradle coverings turned deep red. Once more the Cherry Children woke up.

"Mother, we wish to grow," they called.

"The birds are coming. They will carry you away to grow," replied the mother.

The birds came in flocks and carried the Cherry Children away in their beaks. They pecked off the sweet red coverings and ate them, dropping the hard wooden cradles on the ground. There the autumn leaves covered them when they fell, and the rain showers washed them farther and farther into the soft earth.

One day the wooden cradles split open at the sides, and out peeped the Cherry Children. They grew down and up, and soon wherever a cradle had fallen there stood a young cherry tree, slender and green.

THE DAISY FAIRY

She was a dainty little fairy, and all her work was daintily done. The river bank was so gay with her sweet, pink-tipped daisies that everybody admired it. The bees loved the spot.

One day she noticed that a hill standing near had no flowers on it.

"I must make that beautiful too," she thought, so she flew across and planted a daisy-seed near the top.

"That is absurd," said the Hill. "How can a thing so tiny be of any use to me?"

"Wait and see," said the Fairy. To the seed she said: "Swell and sprout and grow up and down."

The seed swelled and sprouted, and grew up and down; when the Fairy came again it had a root and a stem.

"Now make your leaves," she said; when next she came the leaves were made. "Very well done," she said. "Now I will help you to make your flowers, for they are most important."

So she and the daisy worked together at the flowers. First they made a stem, slender and green, with a knob at the top. On this they seated the flowers like tiny golden bells round and round in rings. In each flower they put a store of honey for the bees and of pollen for the neighbour flowers. Then they set a row of fine large white petals round the edge to catch the eyes of the bees, and the Fairy tipped them with pink. Last they made the green leaf coverings for the outside to keep away unfriendly insects.

"Fold yourselves over the flowers till the morning," the Fairy said to these leaves, "and then open widely to let the bees come in."

From her river bank the next morning the Fairy saw the daisy shining in the sunlight. She pointed it out to a bee. "There is a fresh daisy full of honey-cups," she said. The bee flew to it at once. He stood in the middle of the flower, unrolled his long tongue, and supped up the sweet honey from flower after flower, turning himself round and round till he had dipped into every one.

"Thank you, tiny daisies," said the Bee. "That was delicious honey."

"Thank you, Mr. Bee," said the Daisies, "for you have mixed our pollen, and now our seed will grow well."

The Daisy Fairy came again and said: "Drop your petals, close your green leaf coverings, and make your seed."

She came again when the seeds were ripe.

"Now scatter your seeds," she said to the daisy, and to each little seed as it fell she said as before: "Swell and sprout and grow up and down." The seeds did as they were told, and soon there was a ring of strong young daisy plants growing round the first one. Again the flowers were made and the seeds scattered; in a short time the hill was starred with pink and white.

"It is wonderful!" said the Hill. "I should never have believed it if I had not seen it."

"It was a tiny seed," said the Fairy, "but it has made you beautiful."

MY GARDEN

I have a garden of sweetest flowers,
Beside the orchard wall.
The sun sends sunbeams, the clouds send showers,
To make them gay and tall.

Marigolds, wallflowers, cowslips, pinks,
Pansies, and mignonette!
Forget-me-not blue its star-eye winks;
Roses their buds have set.

But dearest of all, in their border low,
Bloom the daisies so wee.
Pink and crimson, or as white as the snow;
Daisies, daisies for me!

BED-TIME

Ticketty Tacketty, tick, tack, tock!
Now then, young man, just look at that clock!
Off with your shoe, and off with your sock.
Ticketty Tacketty, tick, tack, tock.

PANSY

Pansy so velvety, pansy so wide,
Pansy with heart of gold,
How I wish I could stay outside
Till I saw your petals unfold!

When do you open them, pansy so blue?
I watch, but never see.
One day there's a bud; the next, there's—you!
You are such a puzzle to me.

Do you open them softly in the dark,
While stars watch overhead?
Or fling them wide with the morning lark,
Before I am out of my bed?

MAY FAIRIES

"Come out and dance," called the Snow Fairies to the May Fairies.

The May Fairies peeped out of their homes in the hawthorn trees and shivered.

"No, thank you," they said. "It is too cold out there. Besides, we are busy making our buds."

They made tiny red-tipped buds and set them on the branches of the trees, two at the foot of each thorn. Then they crept down into their warm homes again to wait for the spring.

With the spring came the merry Sunbeams.

"Come out and dance," they called.

"Oh! are you there?" called back the May Fairies. "Then we must open our buds, so we have no time to dance."

They worked hard, blowing out the buds with their dainty breath, till at last the leaves opened and the trees were dressed in fluttering green.

The Spring Fairies came tripping past, waving tasselled catkins in their hands.

"Come out and dance," they called.

"We have no time. We must make our flower-buds," replied the May Fairies.

They made their wee round flower-buds and set them on the trees, and blew into them and puffed them out till they looked like tiny snowballs. Harder and harder they blew, until at last the flowers flew open. Then the trees looked as if showers of white stars had fallen on them from the sky in snow-time. How lovely they were! The little flies came from far and near to feast, buzzing out their thankfulness to the fairies for the sweet honey.

The Summer Fairies came with roses and forget-me-nots. "Come out and dance," they called.

"We have no time," called back the May Fairies. "We have to make our berries."

They gently loosened the white petals of the flowers and set them floating on the wind. Then they made the little green seed-balls into berries, blowing them big and round so that the seeds should have room to grow, and polishing the outsides till they turned red and glowed like garnets in the sunshine. What a feast the birds had!

When the fairies had finished it was autumn.

"Come and dance," called the Leaf Fairies as they fluttered past in their brown and crimson robes.

"We are coming," called back the May Fairies, "for now our work is done." They flew down from their tree-homes, free at last to dance through all the golden autumn days.

THE DRAGON

He was not a pretty fellow by any means when he lived in the water. Indeed, the mosquito babies thought him the ugliest and fiercest-looking creature in the world; but as he ate them up whenever he could catch them their bad opinion of him was hardly to be wondered at.

They all lived in the pool. The mosquito babies felt that it would have been a happy life if it had not been for the Dragon. He would lie so still and grey in the water that they would think he was only a stick, but as they came near his horrid mask would open, and out would shoot his cruel jaws; they would be swallowed before they had time to think any more. What an appetite he had! It seemed as if all the mosquito babies in the pool would never satisfy him.

But one day his appetite failed. "I feel very queer," he said. "I will go up into the air." He crawled slowly up a reed and hung on to it above the water, and there he seemed to sleep for days and weeks, neither moving nor eating. The mosquito babies could have a good time now—if there were any left.

As he hung there his skin grew strangely hard and dry and shrunken, as if it were becoming a lifeless case. And that is just what was happening. Inside it the Dragon was growing into something quite different from what he had been.

One morning he stirred. "How close and dark it is in here!" he said. "I must go out."

He put his head against the end of the case and pushed hard. Crack! went the dry skin, and out popped his head. "This is tiring work," he said; he stopped to rest and to grow used to the strong light.

Soon he began again. He pushed and pushed till the opening grew wide enough for his body; then he crawled slowly out and stood on top of his old skin. He felt strange and damp and chilly at first, but the sun was delightfully warm, so he stood still, to be dried and comforted.

"How changed I am!" he thought. Indeed, the change was wonderful. The flabby grey body and the ugly mask and claws were gone. In their places he had a long, slender body barred with black and gold, a shapely head with two big bronze-green eyes and delicate feelers, and six supple finely-jointed legs.

And he had wings! Yes, four beautiful, beautiful wings. He raised them one by one to dry them. He quivered with joy as he looked at their delicate lacework and lovely colours. "How fine they are! And how glorious it will be to fly!" he thought.

Soon he was dried and warmed. He spread his glittering wings, rose into the air, and sailed away to play with his cousins and catch moths—a Pool Dragon no longer, but a shining Dragon-fly.

GOLD BROOM AND WHITE BROOM

On a piece of waste land lived the Broom cousins.

"My leaves are bigger than yours," said Gold Broom to White Broom.

"Size is not everything," said White Broom to Gold Broom; they were always sparring at one another.

Buds came on the branches. Then the flowers sprang out and danced in the sunshine.

"How pale and small your children are!" said Gold Broom to White Broom. "Mine are golden and well grown. See how strong and happy they look."

"Yellow is such a common colour," said White Broom to Gold Broom. "White is much more refined. My children are not overgrown, but they are dainty. And how sweetly they are scented!"

The bees and moths came flying amongst the flowers, unrolling their long tongues and sipping up the honey.

"Are not my children the best?" asked Gold Broom of the bees.

"Are not mine?" asked White Broom.

"That is hard to decide," said the Bees. "We love them all alike. Gold Broom's children have more honey, but White Broom's honey is sweeter to the taste." They flew away to their hive, leaving the mothers to argue it out.

The children took no part in the discussion. They were too happy to quarrel. They played and danced every day, till at last they grew tired. Then they dropped their bright wings and shut themselves away in their little green houses.

Here they sat in rows on round stools and grew fat. The walls were lined with wool, so that the cold could not come in; every day Gold Broom and White Broom sent food up the stalk-passages to them. Thus they were comfortable and happy.

But outside the mothers were still quarrelling.

"My houses are bigger than yours," said Gold Broom.

"As I told you before, size is nothing," replied White Broom. "Anyway, mine are much finer in shape."

The houses turned brown and black, and the children turned brown and black. They were big and strong now, and they wished to come out. One by one Gold Broom and White Broom twisted the walls of the houses. Out sprang the children into the world. Pop! pop! pop! Such a splitting and twisting of little house-walls curling back upon each other! Such a jumping of brown and black children far out over the ground!

"Mine jump the farthest," said Gold Broom.

"Mine jump much more gracefully," said White Broom.

The children lay on the ground. The sun shone on them, the rain softened their hard coats. They swelled and burst, tiny shoots came out, and in a little while the ground was green with hundreds of young broom plants.

"Mine are growing the best," said Gold Broom.

"What nonsense you talk!" said White Broom.

KITTY CRAYFISH'S HOUSEKEEPING

Kitty Crayfish passed the first part of her life clinging under her mother's bent tail. But one day her mother said: "You are old enough to take care of yourself now, little Kitty. Make a house in the bank, and always creep into it while you change your shell."

She swam to the bank at the side of the stream, gently placed Kitty on a flat stone, and left her there. Kitty was not at all afraid. She was very tiny, but she was exactly like her mother in shape, and had the same strong claws and jaws. She set to work at once to burrow in the bank, and soon had a neat little house made. Tired with her hard work, she threw herself down and slept.

When she woke she felt hungry; so she went out to look for food. She walked forwards, creeping on eight of her queer jointed legs; but when she reached the water she turned round and swam backwards, using the blades of her wide tail as front paddles, and bringing all her swimming legs and swimmerets into play.

She made a good meal, for there were plenty of worms and grubs and tiny fish on the mud-floor of the stream, and her nippers were long and strong. While she was feeding, Old Man Crayfish came striding along the mud-floor. He would have eaten her for dinner if he could have caught her, for he was very fond of tender babies now and again. But she saw him coming, and was off before he could reach her. She swam back to her new home, well pleased with herself. Her housekeeping had begun well; she felt that she was able to take care of herself.

A few days later her mother peeped in at the door.

"You seem very comfortable," she said; "but are you not coming out to-day?"

"No," said Kitty; "I don't feel very well. My shell feels far too tight."

"Ah! it is going to split," said her mother. "I can see it looks very thin. You are quite right to stay in. Don't show yourself till the new one is hard, or somebody will devour you."

Kitty stayed in her house, lying still and feeling very queer. By and by her shell split across the back, just beneath her shield. She pushed her head out through the slit. Then she slowly drew the rest of her body out, till she stood quite outside her old shell, shivering and cold, and a little afraid. Her old covering lay there, legs and feelers and shield and tail; even the skins of the eyes on their little stalks. She herself stood in a new shell, exactly the same in shape, but quite soft.

Afterwards Kitty became accustomed to these wonderful changes; for she grew so fast that she had to have a new shell eight times during the first year of her life, five times the second year, and once every year after that till she stopped growing. Each time she had to hide in her house till the new shell became hard enough to protect her; then she swam out again, hungrier and stronger than ever.

She has been living in her burrowed house for years, making it bigger as she herself grew bigger. She is there to-day. She is a mother-crayfish now, and carries her little ones under her tail until they, too, are big enough to keep house for themselves.

THE GARDEN PARTY

It was a lovely summer morning. Everybody in the garden was busy, for in the afternoon the flowers were to give their great garden-party. The bees and flies and moths and butterflies and little beetles were all invited.

In the pansy plot the pansies put on their best velvet frocks, and brushed their little green shoes. The lilies dressed themselves in white, and hung bags of golden dust around their necks. The sweet-peas and roses and larkspurs were gay in many-coloured silks. They sprinkled scent over themselves, and filled their honey-jars full of sweetest honey for their visitors. All was cheerfulness and hustle.

At last the afternoon came and the visitors arrived. What excitement! Such a buzzing and chattering! Such a bowing and smiling and polite shaking of wings and feelers! The bees and moths and flies and butterflies and little beetles flew about, singing with pleasure and drinking the delicious honey provided for them. They told the smiling flowers how lovely they were, and the flowers in return dusted them with their golden dust. As the visitors flew from flower to flower they carried the golden pollen dust with them, leaving a little here and there; thus the flowers were able to exchange.

At last the party was over. The guests flew home well pleased, and the garden was quiet again. Night came; the flowers dropped their heads, and many slept.

But in the darkness some were awake, and they began to whisper to their neighbours: "Did you exchange?" The answers came: "Yes." "We did too." "So did we." "I shall not open to-morrow," said a pansy. "My exchanges are all made, and my seeds are beginning to grow. The bees found my honey easily, because my honey-guides helped them; so they carried all my pollen away, and brought plenty from my cousins."

"That is so with us," said many of the others. But some said: "We must keep open a little longer. Our seeds are not all growing." So they opened again next day, and gave little parties of their own, till all the exchanges were made and all the seeds were growing.

The sunny days passed, and now where the flowers had been were little seed-cases; some round, some pointed, some oval, but all filled to the brim with healthy young seeds. The sun shone on them, and they grew and grew till the cases would hold them no longer. Then there was a splitting and a bursting and a popping everywhere, and out sprang the little seeds, to begin a new life for themselves. As the young seedlings sprang up on every side, the older plants looked at them with pride. "We have very fine children," they said. "Next year we must give another garden-party."

BLUEBELLS

Bluebells, bluebells, did the fairies make you?
Do they fly to you at night and ring you and shake you,
And dance on your slender stalks?
Do they stroke you and love you,
And whisper above you,
And take you for fairy walks?

COWSLIPS

O sweet the smell of the cowslip bell!
Was ever flower so sweet?
I picked it where its soft leaves fell
Around its dainty feet.

How slender is its golden throat!
How soft its scented face!
It hangs from out its green pale coat
With pretty drooping grace.

OF ROYAL BLOOD

She was certainly a very grand princess. From the first the nurse-bees fed her with rich golden honey instead of the bee-bread that the common children received. She had a royal bedroom, too, very much larger than the others. At meal-times the nurses were always waiting with her honey; all day long they guarded and watched her, and fanned fresh air with their wings into her bedroom. So she grew big and strong.

One day she said: "I have finished growing, and shall put on my royal robes. Close the door so that nobody can see me while I dress."

The nurses closed the door, and she put on her royal robes. When she was ready they rushed to open the door again. She came out beautiful and shining.

"Now I am going to be Queen," she said to the bee-people who had gathered round her.

"Yes," they said. "The old Queen has gone to a new home and left this one to you. Hail! Queen of the hive!" They bowed before her with great respect, and walked backwards when they left the room.

Guards and honey-bearers were appointed for her, and maids of honour to keep her robes in order. So the new Queen entered into her royal state.

"I am going to be married," she said. She flew out of the hive and rose high in the air, and there she was married to Prince Drone.

"I must be busy," said the Queen, "or there will be no young bees for next season."

Up and down the hive passages she went, placing a little egg in each bedroom, and leaving it there to be hatched by the warmth of the hive. Up and down she went till thousands of eggs were laid.

All were busy and happy in the hive and everything went well. Then one sad day word went round that the Queen was missing. In a moment everybody left their work and rushed wildly through the hive, looking for her in every room and buzzing out their fear and sorrow. She was not in the hive!

Her guards were questioned. They reported that she had gone for a short flight in the fresh air, saying that she did not need their attendance. Scouts were sent out in all directions to look for her, while the bees stood about in groups, too anxious to do anything but wait for news.

One by one the scouts returned, reporting no success in their search. Others were sent out, and still others, but they too returned with no news. Then the buzzing died down to a sorrowful silence, for the bee-people felt that their Queen was lost. "She must have met with her death out there," they whispered.

Suddenly a joyful call came from a returning scout; next moment the Queen came flying in, tired and ruffled and shaking with fear. How her people crowded about her in their joy! They caressed her, stroked her trembling wings, and begged her to tell them what had happened.

"I flew rather far from the hive," she said, "and a huge monster called a boy threw his cap over me and then picked me up in his hand. I would not sting him as you might have done, so I was helpless. He carried me round the garden to another boy-monster, and they agreed to pull off my wings. Think of my terror! I struggled hard to escape, and at last managed to slip through the clumsy fingers of the monster, and flew home. Oh dear, it was terrible! I shall never again go out by myself."

"No, you must not," said her people. "We could not bear to lose our dear Queen."

They comforted her, and fed her, and soon the hive was going on again in its old, happy way.

BILLYBUZZ THE DRONE

"You are lazy," said the boy who watched the bees. "Why don't you work like the others?"

Billybuzz the Drone helped himself to a little more honey from the best pantry; then he turned his big brown head slowly towards the boy who watched the bees.

"You people will never take the trouble to understand us," he said. "You call us lazy, but we cannot work. We are not made like the workers."

"How is that?" asked the boy. "Surely you can fly about and gather honey? That is easy enough."

"Not if one's tongue is too short," replied the Drone. "The Worker Bees have long, hairy tongues to lick the honey out of the deep flower-cups, but my tongue is too short, and would not reach far enough down."

"But you could gather pollen to make bee-bread for the baby bees," said the boy.

"I have no pollen-basket," said the Drone.

"Can you not make wax?"

"No. I have no wax pockets in my coat."

"Then you could be a soldier-bee, and help to guard the Queen and hive."

"I should be useless. I have no sting."

"Oh, well, at any rate you could be a nurse and give the babies their meals, like those nurses over there."

"Why should I? Why should I work at all when I am the King?"

The boy stared. "You a King!" he cried

"Yes. Did you not know that we have a King and Queen?" asked the Drone.

"I knew that you have a Queen; we often hear about her. But I didn't think about a King."

"Well, I am the King—at least, I intend to be soon. At present I am a Prince. When my Queen comes out we shall be married, and then I shall be King. There are other drones waiting, but they shall not have her. Listen—she is singing in her golden room now. That means that she is coming out soon. I must be ready for the beautiful Queen."

He walked out of the hive into the sunshine. Here he brushed himself and spread his shining wings and looked very big and handsome. There was a stir in the hive, and the young Queen flew out and mounted into the air. With a rush Billybuzz flew swiftly after her, followed by the other drones who had been waiting. Whoever could catch the Queen first was to marry her, so they all did their best. Higher and higher they flew, till they were all out of sight.

The boy waited below, and presently the disappointed drones came back, bringing the news that Billybuzz had won the race. So Billybuzz the Drone married the Queen, and became King.

A few days later the boy again came to watch the bees.

"Where is Billybuzz the King?" he asked a drone who sat at the front door in the sunshine.

"Dead!" said the drone.

"Dear me!" said the boy. "How did that happen?"

"Oh, he just died," said the drone. "We all die very soon after we become kings. We are not made to live as long as the workers or the queens."

"Is that so? Then I would rather be born a worker than a king," said the boy.

"Everyone to his taste," said the drone. "A short life and a merry one for me."

HONEY

A little golden flower-cup,
A little golden bee.
A little store of honey made
For Nell, and Jack, and me.

A little crystal honey-jar,
A little pantry shelf.
A naughty little Nelly-girl
Falls down, and hurts herself.

ON THE HILLSIDE

The sun shone gaily, the skylark sang her morning song, and the crickets chirped their merriest; but the things that usually lived so peacefully on the hillside were quarrelling.

It was the wind who began it. As he lifted the pollen from one patch of grass-flowers and carried it to the next he cried boastingly: "What a friend I am to you tiny creatures! If it were not for me you could bear no seed. I am indeed useful. I am sure nobody does so much good."

"How absurd!" cried the bees. "Anyone would think you did all the work of the world. You certainly carry the grass pollen, but think of the flowers whose pollen we carry. What would the clover here do without us? And the wild flowers, and the flowers in the gardens and orchards all over the world. We are certainly the most useful."

At this thousands of earth-worms popped their heads above the ground. "If you are talking about usefulness, don't forget us," they said. "You see very little of us, for we come out at night when most of you are asleep. But think of all the work we do. We burrow and burrow here in our millions, ploughing the ground day after day till every inch is opened up to let in the sweet air and drain away the water from the surface. How could the flowers and grasses live if we did not do this? Think how fine we keep the soil, powdering it as we do in our burrowings! And how rich we make it by dragging down decaying leaves into our holes every night. The world would be a sorry place for everything that grows and lives if we did not work so hard. We are surely more useful than anybody."

The grasses waved their flowered heads. "All that is true enough," they said; "but nobody can possibly be more useful than we are. Think how we clothe the land and give food to hundreds of animals and shelter to millions of insects."

A little cloud sailed softly down on to the hill-top to listen. "What could any of you do without the clouds?" she asked. "You all depend on our rain for your lives; you must confess you are less useful than we are."

"Ho! ho! ho!" laughed the merry sun. "Fancy quarrelling this fine morning! Now I will tell you, and this will settle it once for all. You are all useful, and not one of you could be spared, and not one of you could do well without the other. Everything helps everything else. The worms help the grass, and the grass feeds the worms; the bees help the flowers, and the flowers feed the bees; the wind helps the clouds, and the clouds become rain and help the wind in its work. And I am here over you all, and if it were not for me nothing could live, so, after all, I am the most useful. If I did not shine there would be no grass, no worms, no flowers, no bees, no wind, and no clouds. Now go on with your work."

THE SUN'S NEST

Winnie and I went sailing fast
Out to the golden West.
We wished to see the Sun drop down
Into his shining nest.

Our ship was soft and pearly white—
A dear little cloud up high.
We sailed along at sunset time,
Across the flaming sky.

Winnie stood up and laughed with joy;
Her curls blew round her head.
The golden clouds raced past our ship,
To see the Sun to bed.

The nest was made of red, red cloud,
Hung like a rosy swing:
An angel stood on either side—
We heard them softly sing.

The tired Sun came dropping down,
And cuddled in his nest.
The angels spread their snow-white wings
To guard him through his rest.

The soft wee clouds went home with us,
The sky grew grey and blue;
The stars peeped out and laughed and winked,
And said: "Good-night, you two!"

CRIKITTY-CRIK

Mrs. Cricket flew busily round, looking for a good place for her eggs. "This will do," she said at last. "Here is plenty of food for them when they hatch." She flew down close to the roots of a soft green plant, pierced a hole in the ground with her piercer, placed the eggs in it with her egg placer, and flew off.

"Just the very dinner I like best," said Mr. Beetle to himself; he ran to the hole, dug out the eggs, and ate them up.

He thought he had them all, so he went away; but there was one left, hidden under a grain of earth. After a while it hatched out into Crikitty-Crik.

Crikitty-Crik could not fly, or sing, or lay eggs, for he was only a tiny cricket-baby. All he could do was eat, but that he did thoroughly. He gobbled up every scrap of soft vegetable food he could find in the earth, and as his mother had chosen a good place for him he found plenty and soon grew fat. His front legs were specially made for burrowing, and his jaws were made for nibbling.

One day he stopped eating and said: "I should like to fly." So he let his skin grow hard, and he shut himself up in it, and made his wings. He altered the shape of his mouth, too. "For I am going to suck leaves when I am a grown-up cricket," he said.

When everything was ready he pushed himself out through the top of his old skin and left it lying on the ground. Then up he flew to suck the juices of the leaves.

Such a handsome fellow he was—all green and gold and fine lace-work. And he could make music, for under his body he had grown two little flat sounding boards. When he moved his hind-legs quickly over these they made the cricket-song: "Crikitty-Crik! Crikitty-Crik! What a fine world it is!"

THE DISCONTENTED ROOT

The Root was grumbling again, and everybody felt unhappy. "It's not fair," she said. "Why should I have to stay down here in the dark while you can all live in the sunshine? It is work, work, work all day down here, finding water and food for you all; while you do nothing but enjoy yourselves."

"Oh, you must not say that," cried the stems. "We are as busy as you are. Your work would be useless if we did not spend our time carrying water and food from you to the leaves and flowers. And think of the weight we are bearing. You cannot say your work is harder than ours."

"It certainly is not harder than ours," said the leaves. "Think of all that goes on in our workshops. We supply as much food from the air as you from the earth. You must not say we are not busy."

The flowers bent their heads and spoke. "Dear little Root-sister," they said, "do not make us unhappy with your discontent. Life is very full of work for all of us. You must give us food or we cannot live, and we flowers must make our seed or the family would die out, so we help each other. Your work lies in the dark earth, certainly, while ours is in the sunshine; but the life up here would not suit you. I am sure you would die if you tried to live above the ground."

But the Root would not understand. "Fine words," she said, "but no comfort to me! Oh! I wish I could go up into the sunshine."

One day she had her wish, for a slip of the gardener's spade turned her above the ground. She was delighted, but the others were in despair. "Oh, dear, whatever will become of us now?" they cried. "If only the gardener would see you and put you in again!" But the gardener did not notice; it lay there all day.

"The sunshine is delightful," said the Root, though really its glare and heat were making her feel quite dizzy.

"How hot the sun is! And how parched we are!" sighed the drooping flowers. "Now we must die, and our poor little half-formed seeds will never grow into beautiful plants." And they laid their tender faces on the hot earth and died.

The afternoon wore on. The gasping leaves and soft stems almost died too, but the coolness of evening and the night dew revived them a little; when the morning came they tried to lift themselves and live on in spite of the hot sunshine that came again.

As for the Root, she was longing now for the gardener to come and put her in the earth. She had been dried and withered by the heat, then half frozen by the cold night dew; now here was another day to face in this glare of light and cruel sunshine. She knew now that the flowers were right in saying that the life above ground would not suit her. "If the gardener does not come soon I shall die, too," she thought.

The gardener came, saw the upturned Root, and set it in its old place. "I will never grumble at my life again," said the Root as the soft cool earth closed in around her.

"How thankful we are!" whispered the leaves faintly. "Now we shall live again."

But the flowers said nothing, for they were dead.

CREEPY-CRAWLY

At first Creepy-Crawly was nothing but a tiny egg on a blade of grass; but when he hatched out into a caterpillar he was Creepy-Crawly indeed, for though he had about sixteen pairs of legs, they were all so tiny that he could not be said to walk on them. But he crawled about quite happily, and was well content with life as he found it.

"Why don't you grow long legs like me?" said the Spider. "It must be terribly slow work crawling about like that."

Creepy-Crawly did not stay to answer. Out of his body he drew two threads as fine as the spider's own, glued them together with his mouth into a rope, and dropped by the rope from the branch to the ground. He did not like Mrs. Spider.

"Well, I wouldn't wear a green coat if I were you," said an Earth-worm whom he met. "Brown is a much nicer colour."

"Brown may be best for you who live in the ground," said Creepy-Crawly, "but green is better for me. The birds would like me for dinner, you know, but they cannot see me so well if I look like the leaves I feed on."

"You should wear a hard shell on your back." said a Beetle. "You are absurdly soft."

Creepy-Crawly wriggled quickly out of the beetle's sight, and a Butterfly who saw him laughed. She said: "Better grow wings, Creepy-Crawly. They are the best means of escape from your enemies."

Creepy-Crawly looked wistfully at her as she flew off. "Yes," he said to himself, "that is what I should like—to fly through the air in that grand, free way. That would be glorious! Ah, well! I have no wings, but I may as well be as happy as I can."

Creepy-Crawly had been eating hard for weeks, but now he began to feel less and less hungry and more and more drowsy. One day he curled himself up under a dead leaf and went to sleep; there he slept on and on for week after week without waking once to eat.

As he slept his skin turned brown like the worm's, and hard like the beetle's; but inside the skin a still more wonderful change was taking place. From his body six slender jointed legs with clawed toes grew slowly out, followed by four wings, which promised to be broad and beautiful when they had room to open. From the head grew two long feelers with little knobs at their ends. Over body, head, and wings a coat of tiny, many-coloured scales spread itself, softer than down, and as beautiful as the rainbow.

Creepy-Crawly woke up at last, but he was Creepy-Crawly no longer. He pushed his way out of his hard shell and stood on the dead leaf to dry himself. He spread his wings in the sun; he shook his six jointed legs one after the other; he turned and twisted himself this way and that in his delight.

"Who would have thought I should have come to this?" he said to himself. "Now I am a Butterfly. I am like the one that spoke to me that day. I will fly through the air as she did, and find her, and show her how I have changed."

He spread his beautiful wings and rose up into the warm air, and flew away to drink honey from the flowers and to dance with his butterfly cousins.

BLACKIE

At first Blackie was only a tiny speck in an egg, but he grew so fast that he soon filled the shell. Mrs. Blackbird covered him with her warm feathered body, and turned him over every day so that he should grow evenly; and Mr. Blackbird sat on a branch and sang: "How the sun shines! How bright is the world!"

It was delightfully warm and cosy in the little shell-house, so Blackie was content for a long time. But when he had grown as big as the shell would let him, and had used up all the food that had been stored for him, he wished to come out. He pecked at the shell, and his mother heard him.

"That is well," she said; "so you are ready to come out into the world. Peck hard till you make a hole. Then poke out your head."

He pecked hard, and Mrs. Blackbird helped gently from her side. Presently a hole was made, and out popped the little head.

"Cheep!" he said. "Cheep! Cheep!"

"Push with your shoulders till you crack the shell," said his mother. He pushed and pushed, and soon the shell split, and he stepped out.

"Well, you are not very handsome," said his father, looking in over the edge of the nest, "but you will be much better looking when your feathers come."

He certainly was not handsome, for he was bald all over, and his mouth looked too big for his body. But he did not know that, so he was quite happy. "Cheep!" he said. "What a brown world it is!" For all he could see was the inside of the nest, and he thought that was the world.

"Here is a worm," said Mrs. Blackbird. How that big mouth of his opened! In the weeks that followed both father and mother had to work hard to keep it filled. But they had their reward, for Blackie grew big and strong, and his feathers came.

He could look over the top of the nest now. "Cheep! What a green world it is!" he said; for all he could see was the tree, and he thought that was the world. The wind blew, and the branches swayed to and fro and rocked the nest till he fell asleep.

"Come out and learn to fly," said his mother one day. "Stand on the edge of the nest and fly down to the branch below."

She showed him how to do it, and he peeped over the edge of the nest and watched her. But it looked such a long way to the branch that he was afraid. He crept down into the nest again and would not come out. "What nonsense!" said Mrs. Blackbird; and she tumbled him out with her beak. He landed safely on the branch, as she knew he would. Then she and Mr. Blackbird sat beside him and showed him how to grasp with his toes, and how to spread out his wings. With the greatest patience they taught him step by step to fly, leading him first from twig to twig, then from big branch to big branch, and last from tree to tree.

Then he was taught how to find his food—taught how to pull a worm out of its hole, where to look for caterpillars and grubs, and how to catch a fly on the wing. At last he knew it all, and he could earn his own living.

Then he, too, sat on a branch and sang like his father: "How the sun shines! How bright is the world!"

LITTLE BIRDS

"Pretty Dearie! Pretty Dearie!"
Hear the gay father-bird sing to his wife.
"Pretty Dearie! Pretty Dearie!
Ours is a beautiful life.

"Sweetest Birdie! Sweetest Birdie!"
Hark how he calls while she sits on her nest!
"Sweetest Birdie! Sweetest Birdie!
Of all the world I love you best."

THE BROWNIES

Amongst the roots of the grass in the lawn lay hundreds of tiny eggs. One by one they hatched out as the sun warmed the earth and the soft showers moistened it, and soon the grass roots were alive with tiny grubs. They crawled about, cutting the poor grass roots and stems with their hard little jaws, and at once beginning to grow fat on the pieces they bit out and swallowed. All day and every day they ate, for their one aim in life was to be big and strong. "Then by and by our wings will grow and we shall fly," they thought. They were not as brown now as they would be when their wings had grown. Only their heads and jaws were brown as yet; their soft ringed bodies and curled-up tails and six jointed legs were all grey-green.

They had a lazy time under the ground, for they had nothing to do but to burrow and eat; but that just suited them. They made such good use of their time that the master of the garden looked with despair at the brown patches in his lawn. "Those dreadful grubs!" he said. "They are spoiling my beautiful lawn."

They lived there for three or four years. Then one by one they all stopped eating. They were so fat that they could hardly move, and so drowsy that they didn't want to. So they curled themselves up and went to sleep, and did not wake for many a day.

As they slept their skins grew hard and transparent, and new ones grew underneath. Two wings grew along their sides, though there was not yet room for them to open out, and two brown shields grew to cover them.

One by one the Brownies woke up. "Our wings have come! We must go out and fly!" they said.

They stretched their dried outside skins till they cracked open down the middle of the back. Then they pushed themselves out of the opening, and crawled out under the grass blades to dry themselves in the sun. Slowly and carefully they stretched out their fine new wings, tried their feelers, and lifted their strong brown shields till they hardened in the air.

They were brown beetles now, and they felt proud of themselves. They crept about to show themselves and to look at one another, and they chattered together and made plans for flying off when they were ready.

Just as evening came they were all ready to go. They lifted their wings again and again to let the air into their bodies, then up they flew, out into the wide garden-world.

Away at the back of the house there was a patch of growing potatoes. They soon found it out. They alighted on the leaves and began at once to eat them, for they were hungry after their long sleep.

They feasted all night, but when the daylight came they slipped under the leaves and hung there out of sight. They had been so long used to the darkness under the earth that now they preferred shady corners to open daylight.

"Those dreadful brown beetles have been here and spoilt my potato plants," said the master of the garden. "I wish I could catch them." He did not know that they were hiding under the leaves quite close to him.

BRAVE ROSE-PINK

Autumn was passing, and Jack Frost was frightening all the flowers away. Even the seeds could not bear to stay above the ground, but crept underneath out of the cold. The tiny underground elves gathered them and carried them away to the Earth-mother's warm nurseries, and tucked them into soft cradles till it should be time to return them to the garden for the spring growth.

But a sweet-pea seed refused to come down. "No," she said; "I do not wish to lie in a cradle all the winter. I wish to stay here and grow. I am already sprouting, and I intend to go on." She would not be moved.

The elves went to the Earth-mother.

"There is a sweet-pea seed above the ground, Rose-Pink by name, who refuses to come below," they said. "What shall we do with her?"

"Tell her that Jack Frost will nip her with his cruel fingers if she stays there," said the Earth-mother.

The elves took the message, but soon returned.

"She says she is strong and hardy, and will laugh at Jack Frost," they reported.

"Tell her the Storm-king will beat her down with his great winds, and break her back," said the Earth-mother.

They went again, but returned and said: "She says she will grow little tendrils with which to hold tightly to the fence, so that the great winds cannot tear her down."

"Tell her that the Snow-queen will bury her in her cold white snowflakes," said the Earth-mother.

"She says she will not die, but will push her head through the cold white snowflakes," they said when they came back.

"Then leave her alone," said the Earth-mother. "She is brave, and perhaps her courage will carry her safely through the winter. If it does her reward will come in the summer."

So Rose-Pink was left alone, and went on growing quietly by the fence, taking advantage of every little bit of sunshine that came her way. Jack Frost nipped her with his cruel fingers, but she only laughed at him; the Storm-king tried to beat her down with his great winds, but she clung to the fence with her little tendrils; the Snow-queen buried her in her cold white snowflakes, but she pushed her head through and lived on.

At last the winter passed, and the soft spring air blew over the garden. The elves brought back the seeds and set them in their places. "Rose-Pink must be dead," they said, and they ran to look.

"I am alive and well, and very happy," sang Rose-Pink from half-way up the fence.

She grew fast now, and soon reached the top of the fence. Then came her reward; for while the other sweet-peas were only half grown, her little buds came and her flowers opened out. Such glorious flowers they were, flushed like the sunrise sky. Rose-Pink sang for joy, and breathed out scented happiness on every breeze.

"You have come long before your sisters," said the Bees. "Nothing in all the garden is so sweet and beautiful as you."

SWEET-PEA LAND

Oh, have you been to Sweet-pea Land,
Where little brown seeds once lay?
And have you seen the tall green swings
That cover that Land to-day?

And have you seen in Sweet-pea Land
The dear wee ladies who swing?
They've blowing frocks of blue and pink
As light as a silken wing.

And have you smelt in Sweet-pea Land
The scent the wee ladies throw
From each to each, as up and down
The wonderful green swings go?

And have you heard in Sweet-pea Land
The question-song of the bee?
"Dear Lady Pink, Dear Lady Blue,
Have you some honey for me?"

Oh, come with me to Sweet-pea Land,
Where little brown seeds once lay;
Where green swings rock in the summer wind.
And pretty wee ladies play.

MRS. FROG, MR. FROG, AND THE LITTLE FROG

"Do you mean to say I was ever like that?" asked Mrs. Frog.

"Of course you were. We all were," said Mr. Frog.

"I don't believe you," said Mrs. Frog. "Why, it is nothing but a little ball of jelly with a spot in it. How can it grow into a frog?"

"Well, I don't know exactly how it does it," said Mr. Frog, "but you can see it is an egg, and eggs grow into the most wonderful things."

"I am not going to believe this one will grow into a frog till I see it," said Mrs. Frog; and she swam away.

The egg lay in the water under a lily leaf. It certainly did not look in the least like a frog; indeed, it did not at first seem alive at all. But the spot began to spread, and day by day it grew till at last a tiny tadpole came out of the jelly and hung on to the lily leaf.

Mrs. Frog saw it, and called Mr. Frog to come and look.

"You were wrong," she said. "It is not a frog. It is only a kind of wormy thing."

"Give it time," said Mr. Frog. "We all began like that."

"What nonsense you talk, Mr. Frog! If it's a frog, where is its head? Where is its mouth? Where are its legs? The thing is nothing but a jelly-worm stuck on a leaf. And you tell me I was once like that! I have no patience with you. I shall not stay to hear another word."

Left to herself, the little tadpole dropped from the lily leaf and swam about in the water. In a day or two the head and mouth appeared, and funny, frilly breathing gills grew out from her sides. Then these went away and inside gills grew. A hard little beak grew on her mouth, just the thing for nibbling leaves and stalks. Now she spent all the day eating vegetable dinners and growing. How fast she grew, to be sure!

Mrs. Frog came one day to see how she looked. "Do you call that a frog?" she asked Mr. Frog scornfully. "Whoever saw a frog with a tail? Or eating leaves? Or breathing like a fish?"

"My dear, think back," said Mr. Frog. "Have you no memory of a time in your youth when we all swam together in the water, never wishing to go up on the land? You had a lovely long tail in those days. And do you not remember how sweet those green things tasted to us?"

A puzzled look came into Mrs. Frog's eyes, and a dim remembrance flashed across her brain.

"Oh, well, I shall watch," she said.

So every day Mrs. Frog jumped into the pool and swam round the little tadpole, watching the changes that took place. Soon she saw the hind-legs begin to grow. Then one day the tadpole left off eating, and startling changes began to take place. The tail dwindled away, giving up its strength to feed the body; the horny beak dropped off; the mouth widened and widened, till it went nearly round the head; the tongue grew big; the eyes and the front legs came out through the skin. Day by day the changes went on, and Mrs. Frog was at last convinced that the little tadpole was really a frog.

When she saw the little creature rise up to the surface and swim to the shore, breathing as frogs breathe, and when she saw her jump up on the land and catch a fly and eat it, she went home.

"You were right, after all," she said to Mr. Frog.

"Of course I was," said Mr. Frog.

BUTTERCUPS

It was not at all a pretty spot, this swampy bit of roadside. A coarse grass was the only thing that grew on it, for its soil was always wet and spongy.

Its neighbours despised it. "If you grew pink-tipped daisies and pretty white bells like mine," said the Hill, "the children would love you." "Or if you grew red and white clover like mine," said the Field, "they would love you." "Or if you grew wild roses like mine," said the Hedge, "they would love you."

But the swampy ground could grow neither daisies nor bells nor clover nor wild roses. It lay there, ugly and useless and sad.

One day a bird dropped a clinging seed from its feet as it passed; that was the beginning of the wonderful change that came to the despised piece of ground. The tiny seed sank into the soft wet earth, sprouted, and grew. Soon it was a well-grown plant, with beautiful broad leaves. It stretched its soft green stems over the ground, rooted afresh on this side and on that, and spread and spread and spread. How quickly the white roots grew! The damp soil suited them perfectly.

"This is a splendid growing place," they said.

"You dear things!" said the Ground. "How pleased I am that you have come! I will do my very best for you."

The summer and the winter passed, and spring came. From the new plants little round buds pushed up their heads. They grew fast, and opened out into golden flowers. "Buttercups! Buttercups!" shouted the children. They ran down the hill to where the new flowers shone in the morning sun. How lovely these golden flowers were! How their polished petals glittered! They looked like fairy-cups in the children's hands.

The swampy ground has never been sad since, for now it is always beautiful, and the children love it. Year after year they watch the little buds unfold; then they fill their hands and pinafores with the golden buttercups, and carry them home as treasures to be loved and prized above all other flowers.

SPINNY SPIDER

"Why don't you grow wings?" asked the Red Butterfly. "And whatever is the good of having all those legs? Eight! Why, I am sure six are enough for anybody. You are not at all handsome."

Spinny Spider turned herself round and round, and looked her velvety body all over with her six eyes.

"We seem to look at things from different standpoints," she said. "I have no fault to find with my shape. I don't admire wings at all, and I certainly need all my legs. But I have no time to argue. I have my web to make."

She ran to the top of the hedge and found a nice space between several twigs. Then she sat still, and from a little spinneret on each side of her body she drew hundreds of fine threads of silk, so soft and gummy that they looked like honey. With the tiny combs she carried on each hind foot she combed the threads in the air till they dried and hardened; then she twisted them into a single silken rope.

She worked hard, and soon had made enough of the rope to reach to the opposite twig, so she put a drop of gum on it and let it float in the air till it caught the twig and stuck there. "This is a good start," she said. Now she climbed a higher twig and made another rope, and dropped it across the first one at right angles. Then she made several more, fastening them all together in the middle and gumming them tightly to twigs at the ends, until at last the foundation of the web was made. It looked like the spokes of a wheel without the rim.

She began to spin a finer rope. As she spun she moved slowly from spoke to spoke, drawing the new rope with her and gumming it firmly to each spoke. Round and round she went in ever-widening circles, till the web was complete.

Then she stood for a moment to admire her finished work. And well she might admire, for a moonshine wheel in a fairy coach could not be more beautiful than this. The delicate white silk glistened and shone in the sunlight, and here and there on every circle were set tiny drops of gum that gleamed like golden balls.

In the centre there was no gum, for that was to be Spinny's waiting place. She curled herself up to rest after her work and to wait for her tea. And her tea soon came. A gnat came flying past in a hurry, caught one of his wings in the web, and in a moment was struggling for his life. "The gum will hold him," thought Spinny to herself. "I need not move." The gum did hold him, and his struggles only tightened the web about him. In a few minutes he was dead; Spinny went over to him, and had him for tea. Then she rolled herself up again.

Presently a big blue-bottle fly came noisily buzzing along, and blundered into the net.

"Goodness gracious! what's all this?" he shouted; and he banged and kicked with all his wings and legs. Such a commotion! "He will smash my web and get away, after all," cried Spinny, and she was out to him in a moment. Quickly she spun a few threads and bound them round him to hold him. Then she unsheathed two sharp claws in her feelers. She drove these into the fly, holding them still for a second while a drop of poison from her poison bag ran down each claw into the wound. Very soon Blue-bottle was dead.

"This is a splendid tea!" said Spinny. "The wings are too hard and dry, but the body is just what I like."

"You savage creature!" cried the Red Butterfly, who had seen the death of the fly. "How can you bear to be so cruel?"

"Again we look at things from different standpoints," said Spinny. "I cannot eat honey like you, but am made to live on flesh and blood. What seems cruelty to you is only my nature, and I cannot help my nature. I must get my food in this way, or I should die."

SPINNY SPIDER'S CHILDREN

"What are you making now?" asked the Red Butterfly of Spinny Spider.

"A round cradle for my babies," said Spinny Spider.

"Really! And where are the babies?"

"They are not here yet. Don't talk to me. I am busy."

She went on working, spinning fine silk threads and weaving them carefully into a ball-shaped cradle.

Then she put her little white eggs in it, and picked it up and carried it about with her.

"Well, you are a silly!" cried the Butterfly. "Fancy carrying that weight about with you wherever you go. Why don't you do as I do?"

"What do you do?" asked Spinny Spider.

"I leave my eggs on a stalk or a leaf," said the Butterfly. "The sun hatches them, and I have no further trouble."

"And do you mean to say you do nothing more for them?"

"Nothing at all."

"Don't you even go to see how they are? Why, something might eat them!"

"I lay them as far out of sight as I can," said the Butterfly. "That is all I can do."

"That way would never suit me," said Spinny Spider. "You call me cruel, but I say you are heartless."

"It is my nature. I cannot help it," said the Butterfly. "As you yourself said, we look at things from different standpoints."

Spinny Spider said nothing, but hugged her precious burden more closely to her. By and by, however, a wasp was caught in her nest, so she hid the cradle for safety in the darkest corner of her little house near by, while she attended to Mr. Wasp.

After a few days the children came out of their shells. What a crowd! They ran all over the little house and peeped into everything. "Come out and see the world," said Spinny Spider. She led them out into the sunshine.

Wicked Mr. Striped Spider was passing the door. "Good day, Spinny Spider!" he said. "That is a fine family of yours. May I look at the little dears?"

"No, indeed!" cried Spinny Spider, for she knew he only wanted to eat them.

She placed herself in front of them, and a great fight began. Mr. Striped Spider was hungry, and if he could only kill Spinny Spider he might have the whole family for dinner. But Spinny Spider was fighting for the lives of her children, and her love for them gave her strength and fierceness. Mr. Striped Spider soon lay dead at her feet. Then the family had him for dinner.

The Red Butterfly had seen it all. "How you fight!" she said. "What are you going to do next?"

"Come in and see," said Spinny Spider.

"No, thank you," said the Butterfly. She flew off. She knew Spinny Spider's ways too well.

The children began at once to make dainty little webs for themselves, and to catch their own food. Spinny Spider saw with pride that without any teaching they were able to make their webs as perfectly as she could. They soon started out in life on their own account, each one looking after himself.

TINYBOY

Tinyboy lived in a big red poppy. It was a pretty house. The walls were red silk, and the floor was black velvet, and there were plenty of soft velvet balls to play with. In the day-time the bees and butterflies came to see him; at night, when the poppy shut its petals, he crept down into the seed-box and slept in his warm blankets.

But Tinyboy grew very lonely, for he had no one to play with. The bees and butterflies were always in such a hurry that they had no time for a game, and he had no one else to talk to. He was really a merry little fellow, but just now he was so lonely that he grew quite cross.

He sat on his doorstep and kicked his heels, and said: "Oh, dear! I wish I had somebody to play with. I'm tired of this big, lonely house, and those silly bees and butterflies that are always in such a hurry. I do wish somebody would come and play with me."

"How cross you are to-day," said a Red Butterfly who heard what he said. "If you are so rude we won't come to see you at all," she went on. "Fancy calling us silly!"

"Oh, well," said Tinyboy, "you know I didn't mean it. Only I'm so lonely, and you never will stop to play with me."

"I should think not," said the Butterfly. "I have my work to do, and I can't stop to play. Why don't you go out and look for a playmate?"

"How can I?" asked Tinyboy. "You know I can't get out of this house. It's so high up that I should fall and hurt myself if I stepped out. I can't fly like you, for I have no wings."

"No, neither you have! I forgot about that," said the Butterfly. "Well, I feel sorry for you, so I'll tell you what I shall do. I shall give you a ride round the garden on my back, and we'll look for a playmate for you."

"Oh, that will be grand," said Tinyboy. "I'm ready now."

"Jump on, then," said the Butterfly, "and hold tight."

Tinyboy jumped on and held tight, and off they started.

It was a wonderful ride. Tinyboy had never been out of his house before, so he knew nothing about the other flowers in the garden. When he saw the roses and lilies and pansies and bluebells he thought this must be the great world he had heard the bees talking about.

"Is this the world?" he asked.

The Butterfly laughed.

"No," she said; "this is only a garden. Over the hedge there is another garden, and past that there is another, and many more after that. It takes more gardens than one to make a world."

"Ah, well. I'm sure it is pretty enough to be a world," said Tinyboy; and so it was. The sun shone, the birds sang, the bees and butterflies flew gaily about their work, and the flowers laughed and nodded to one another across the garden. It was all lovely; Tinyboy would have liked to ride all day on the Butterfly's back. But he knew the Butterfly must soon go on with her work, so he began to look about for a playmate.

"Let us see if anyone is at home here," said the Butterfly, stopping at a large pink rose.

"Come out, Rose-lady!" she called, and out came the prettiest little lady you ever saw. She was dressed in soft pink silk, and her hair was yellow and fluffy. She came out smiling at the Butterfly, who was her friend, but as soon as she saw Tinyboy she hid her face shyly in her curls and ran back into her house. The Butterfly called and Tinyboy called, but she was too shy to come out again, so they had at last to fly away to another flower.