A little maid sat sadly weeping while the sunbeams played merrily at hide-and-seek with the shadows that the great oak branches cast on the ground; while the warm summer wind sang softly to itself as it passed, and the blue sky had not even a white cloud with which to hide the sad sight from its eyes.
"Why do you weep?" asked the oak-tree; but Marie did not hear it, and her tears tell faster than ever.
"Why are you so sad?" questioned the sunbeams; and they came to her gently and tried to peep into her eyes.
But she only got up and sat farther away in the shadow, and they could do nothing to comfort her. So they danced awhile on the door-step; and then the sun called them away, for it was growing late.
And still the little maid sat weeping; and if she had not fallen asleep from very weariness, who knows what the sad consequences might not have been?
"How warm it is!" murmured the dandelions in the meadow. "Our heads are quite heavy, and our feet are hot. If it was not our duty to stand up, we would like nothing better than to sink down in the shade and go to sleep; but we must attend to our task and keep awake."
"What can you have, you wee things, to keep you busy?" asked the tall milkweed that grew near the fence-rails; and the mullein-stalk beside it echoed,—
"What, indeed?"
"Now, one can understand one so tall as I having to stand upright and do my duty; but you,—why, you are no taller than one of my green pods that I am filling with floss—"
"And not half so tall as one of my leaves that I must line with velvet," interrupted the mullein-stalk again.