The native Field Flowers felt sorry for them. Really, it must take a good deal of patience to stand the cold north wind, the cold rain and the falling snow. Of course, the spring snow melts quickly, but it is snow, nevertheless.
"You have one great fault," exclaimed the Cornflower, after listening to all these stories. "I don't deny you are, at times, more beautiful than we, simple Field Flowers. I readily admit that, and then you, too, you are our dear visitors, but your main fault is that you grow only for the few rich, while we grow for everybody. In that we are kinder than you. For example, look at me! You will find me in the hands of every country child. Just see how much pleasure I give to the children of the poor! No one has to pay money to buy me. It takes only a walk in the woods to get me. I grow among the wheat, the rye, and the oats."
III
LITTLE Verotchka listened and wondered at these stories of the flowers. She longed to see everything for herself—all the wonderful countries of which the flowers spoke.
"If I were only a Swallow I would fly thither at once," said Verotchka. "Why haven't I wings! Oh, it would be so nice to be a bird!"
She had hardly finished speaking when a little Lady Bug crept up to her,—a real Lady Bug all red with tiny black spots, a little black head, thin little black feelers and thin little black legs.
"Let us fly, Verotchka," whispered Lady Bug, twitching her feelers.
"But I have no wings, Lady Bug," said Verotchka.
"Get on my back."
"How can I? You are so small, Lady Bug."