"What do you mean by a story?" asked the Rosebush.
"Oh, I mean she is deep and knows things of which we little dream. There is something between her and the Wind, but I cannot learn her secret."
Rosebush held up her head, the Pansies turned their little faces around and looked at the modest little Windflower to see if they could read her secret.
"I have no secret the world cannot know," said the Windflower. "All my family love the Wind; this all the world would know if they knew our history."
Rosebush and the Pansies and Hollyhock began to question the little Windflower, and this is what she told them:
"Oh, a long, long time ago some beautiful goddess grieved very much over the death of some one she dearly loved, and she created in memory of this friend a beautiful flower which she named Anemone. That is our real name."
"Oh, how grand is sounds!" said the Rosebush. "Such a big name, too, for such a little flower."
"Yes, it is big," replied the little Windflower, "but you see we had nothing at all to do with our name; the Wind fell in love with us and opened our blossoms—that is the way we happened to be named, I am told."
"Oh, how interesting!" said the Rosebush, beginning to look with envy upon the little Windflower.
"But you are a small family, I think," said the Rosebush. "I have seen very few of your kind in our garden."