“You’re forgetting me,” cried the thistle. “I am the proudest and strongest in the whole meadow.”
“But I am the toughest,” cried the dock.
“Mind you take none of their seed,” said Two-Legs to his family. “Our animals don’t eat them.”
So they went home with full bags and out and home again, until they had heaped up a mighty store.
“Now we will prepare the ground,” said Two-Legs. “Come, my dear horse, and lend me your strength, as you have done before.”
He made a plough, harnessed the horse to it and drove it across the field, step by step and furrow after furrow. He rejoiced when he saw the earth turn under the stone blades of the plough.
“What’s the meaning of this?” said the poppy and was forthwith ploughed over.
“It’s no use,” cried the thistle. “Our seed will come up and tease you.”
“We’ll see about that,” said Two-Legs.
Then he told his family to pull up all the thistles and throw them away. And, when he had ploughed as much as he wanted, he took the grass-seed which they had gathered and sowed it in the good, fresh earth.