Rose Family
“Cherry,” she called. Out stepped a red ripe cherry with a white cap trimmed with green leaves. Of course, the legs were very tiny, nearly like pins. Cherry smiled and bowed and took a place beside Rose.
“Peach,” Rose called, and out stepped a beautiful peach, with a pink cap, trimmed with green leaves.
“Strawberry,” called Rose, and surely enough, out came a red ripe strawberry with a white cap trimmed with green leaves.
“Blackberry,” called the little Rose lady once more, and before the word left her mouth, a big blackberry came tumbling in, on his head a white cap, trimmed with green.
“Oh, pardon me,” said Blackberry, picking himself up. “I was afraid I’d be late.”
Rose smiled and motioned the blackberry into place beside the strawberry.
Once again Rose called a name.
“Apple,” she called, and roly-poly, “head-over-tin-cups,” came a round rosy-cheeked apple into their midst.
“Excuse me,” puffed Apple. “Please excuse my manners, Cousin Rose, but I am so fat that hurrying gets me all out of breath,” and he fell in line.
“That will do,” interrupted Jack-in-the-Pulpit, “that will do for the Rose family; we will now—”
“Excuse me,” interrupted Mary Frances, “but may I ask—if all these are members of the Rose family?”
“There’s no mistake,” replied Jack. “Now, if you stop to think, you’ll realize how very much the blossom of the cherry, and the strawberry, and the blackberry, and the peach, and the apple resemble a wild rose.”
“Oh, I do!” said Eleanor.
“And I remember also,” added Mary Frances, beaming, “that the seed pods of the roses look like fruit.”
“Good!” cried Jack, dancing around.
“Good!” cried Bet, bouncing around, and all the members of the Rose families who were present formed a “ring-around-a-rosy,” and danced around and around, and at length formed into line near the bush through which they had come.
“Their caps are their blossoms!” exclaimed Eleanor.
“They are,” said Bouncing Bet. “Oh, you will always be on the lookout now to find other members of that family, for there are many more. I wanted to call Bridal Wreath, but there wasn’t time.”
“No time, indeed,” interrupted Jack. “Now, Bet, call the Night Shade family. They are not so pretty as the Rose family,” he whispered, “but just as useful.” Bouncing Bet blew upon her fingers.
“Indian file,” she called, and out filed several members of the—