“Not a bit,” said the dandelion. “I only wanted a word with you.”
“Then be quick about it,” said the wind, “for I am thinking seriously of going down.”
“You see,” said the dandelion, “it’s very difficult for us this year to get all our seed settled; and yet one would like to do the best one can for one’s children. How the bell-flower and the poppy and the poor burdock will manage I do not know, upon my word. But the thistle and I have combined and have hit upon an expedient. You shall help us.”
“That makes four in all,” thought the wind and could not help laughing aloud.
“What are you laughing at?” asked the dandelion. “I saw you whispering with the bell-flower and the poppy just now; but, if you tell them a thing, then you will simply get nothing out of me.”
“What do you take me for?” said the wind. “Mum’s the word! What is it you want?”
“We’ve put out a nice little umbrella right up at the top of our seed. It’s the sweetest little toy you can think of. If you only just blow on me, it will fly up in the air and fall down wherever you please. Will you?”
“Certainly,” said the wind.
And, whoosh! he blew over the thistle and the dandelion and took all their seeds with him across the fields.