And then they asked the rye what they ought to do.
“It doesn’t do to mix in other people’s affairs when one’s well off,” said the rye. “There is only one piece of advice that I will give you: mind you don’t fling your silly seed over my field, or you’ll have me to deal with!”
Now this advice was of no use to the wild flowers and they stood all day pondering as to what they should do. When the sun went down, they closed their petals to go to sleep, but they dreamt all night of their seed and the next morning they had found a remedy.
The poppy was the first to wake.
She carefully opened some little shutters in the top of her head, so that the sun could shine right in upon the seeds. Next, she called to the morning-wind, who was running and playing along the hedge.
“Dear wind,” she said, pleasantly. “Will you do me a service?”
“Why not?” said the wind. “I don’t mind having something to do.”
“It’s a mere trifle,” said the poppy. “I will only ask you to give a good shake to my stalk, so that my seeds can fly far away out of the shutters.”
“Right you are,” said the wind.
And away flew the seeds to every side. The stalk certainly snapped; but that the poppy did not bother about. For, when one has provided well for one’s children, there’s really nothing left to do in this world.