“Ah, me!” answered the sun, “dear Rose is so unhappy! An ugly worm is eating her leaves, and he will not crawl away. I will shine no more until Rose is happy.”
“I, too, am so sorry,” whispered the wind. “I will blow no more until Rose is happy.” So saying he dropped to the earth and was still.
A bird was surprised when the wind stopped.
“Mr. Wind,” he called, “why have you stopped blowing?”
“Ah, me!” sighed the wind. “Dear Rose is so unhappy! An ugly worm is eating her leaves, and he will not crawl away. So Sun will shine no more and I will blow no more until Rose is happy.”
“I, also, love Rose,” sang the bird; “and I will sing no more until Rose is happy.” He flew away silently to his nest in the oak tree.
“It is not night,” said the old tree; “why are you not flying and singing, little bird?”
“Ah, me!” chirped the bird. “Dear Rose is so unhappy! An ugly worm is eating her leaves, and he will not crawl away. So Sun will shine no more, Wind will blow no more, and I will sing no more until Rose is happy.”
