It looked long at the sweet flowers.
The little star liked them best of all.
It was always shining on them.
It was always trying to wake them.
One night Mother Moon saw the little star looking down.
“Bright star,” said she, “why are you always shining on the flowers?”
“Because I love them so, mother.
I should like to go and live with them always,” answered the star.
“Do you not love me, little star?”
“Yes, mother dear, I do love you.”