“‘Well, to be sure!’ cried young Cabbage. ‘Every thing comes to some use at last. But who would have thought it!’
“The Scarlet-Bean was a spry little thing. She ran up that pole just as easy! Being of a lively turn, she began, at last, to make fun of the Potato-Plant.
“‘How sober you are!’ said she. ‘Why don’t you try to brighten up, and look more blooming?’
“The poor Potato-Plant, though doing her best, could only show a few pale blooms.
“‘You don’t mean to call those things flowers?’ cried the frisky Bean. ‘Just look at my beautiful blossoms!’ And she held up a spray of bright scarlet.
“The Potato-Plant kept quiet.
“‘What stupid, useless things those Potato-Plants are!’ said young Cabbage; ‘and how much room they take up!’
“Summer passed. The Bean began to fill her pods, and proud enough she was of them.
“‘Why don’t you do something?’ she cried to the Potato-Plant down below. ‘Only see what I’ve done! There’s a summer’s work for you!’ And, sure enough, she had hung her full pods all up and down the pole.
“‘Yes, why don’t you do something?’ cried Cabbage. ‘Your summer is gone, and nothing done. Can’t you come to a head? Any thing but idleness!’