“The time has come for the grass and flowers, you know, brother, and I must be at work,” said the gentle south wind.
“There was no need of such haste,” said the burly north wind; “when friends meet, they should be polite.”
“I have to call up the daisies and to waken the roses,” said the south wind, “and to make all the fields green by the first of May. I have no time to lose. Look at yonder meadow how brown it is, and at these trees how bare! Scarcely a fly is buzzing in the sunshine, and not a tortoise has yet crept out of his hole in the ground.”
“I do not care for your daisies and your tortoises,” muttered the north wind; “you want to hurry me off, but I will not go so soon.”
