"It's very simple," said the pink Carnation. "It is so simple it requires no explaining. A Queen is ... is ... is.... You don't seem to understand.... How strange you are! A Queen is like a flower, as pink as I am. In other words, Verotchka wants to be a pink Carnation. Isn't that simple?"
Everybody laughed gaily. Only the Roses were silent. They were much offended.
"Who doesn't know that the Queen of Flowers is a Rose—delicate, fragrant, marvellous? And suddenly a mere pink Carnation calls herself a Queen. It's all nonsense."
Finally one Rose grew angry and, turning scarlet, she said: "Pardon me. Verotchka wants to be a Rose. A Rose is the Queen because everybody loves her."
"Oh, that is nice," said Dandelion, growing angry. "If that's the case, where do I come in?"
"Dandelion, please don't be angry," pleaded the Wood Bluebells. "It spoils your temper and it is very ugly to be angry. Look at us. We are silent, although we know perfectly well Verotchka wants to be a Wood Bluebell."
II
THERE were many flowers and they all talked calmly without arguing.
All the field flowers, Lilies-of-the-Valley, Violets, Forget-me-nots, Bluebells, Cornflowers, Field Clovers, were so very modest; while the cultivated flowers, like the Roses, Tulips, Lilies, Narcissuses, put on airs like rich children in their Sunday clothes.
Verotchka loved the modest field flowers best. Of these, she would make wreaths and bouquets for the table. They were all so nice.