Sallie, so he called her, stepped out till the water touched her knees; and having gathered such lilies as she could reach with her hand, drew others towards her with the hooked stick. The long, slender stems yielded easily; and, as she plucked one after another, she tossed them towards her brother, who drew them in with his own stick.
How lovely and delicious they were, just fresh from their watery bed, with the drops still glittering like diamonds on the rich, creamy-white petals! how they filled the whole air with their fragrance!
“I think if I could carry flowers to heaven, I would like to take these,” whispered Bessie to Maggie and Belle, as all three hung delighted over their prize. “They look as if they were very large stars fallen down out of God’s sky, to tell us how sweet every thing is there.”
“O Bessie, you darling!” said Maggie. “What a lovely idea! That’s good enough to put in a book. Bessie, do you know that is talking prose?”
“What is prose?” asked Belle.
“You know what rhyme is,” said Maggie.
“Yes,” said Belle: “it means cat and hat, and mouse and house, and mean and queen.”
“That’s right,” said Maggie. “Well, if you say a nice thing in rhyme, that’s poetry; but if you say it in unrhyme, then it’s prose.”
“Oh!” said Belle, quite satisfied with Maggie’s explanation. “I wish I were as smart as you two. You write poetry, Maggie; and Bessie can talk prose: and I can’t do either.”
“Never mind,” said Maggie, consolingly. “Maybe you’ll be able to some day.”