"'What is flour made of?'
"It was the answer to that which made me shudder."
"What was it?" asked the proud grain.
"She said it was made of—wheat! I don't see the advantage of being rich—"
"Was the cake rich?" asked the proud grain.
"Their mother said it was. She said, 'Don't eat it so fast—it is very rich.'"
"Ah!" said the proud grain. "I should like to be rich. It must be very fine to be rich. If I am ever made into cake, I mean to be so rich that no one will dare to eat me at all."
"Ah?" said the learned grain. "I don't think those boys would be afraid to eat you, however rich you were. They are not afraid of richness."
"They'd be afraid of me before they had done with me," said the proud grain. "I am not a common grain of wheat. Wait until I am made into cake. But gracious me! there doesn't seem much prospect of it while we are shut up here. How dark and stuffy it is, and how we are crowded, and what a stupid lot the other grains are! I'm tired of it, I must say."
"We are all in the same sack," said the learned grain, very quietly.