“In a few moments the bud had increased to its full size, which was thrice the size of a man’s head. And then it began to open its green doors. Slowly the white leaves of a flower appeared and when full grown, leaned back upon the stem of the blossom to make room for the other petals.
“Finally all the petals had appeared, and the rose seemed full-blown. Then came such a rare perfume from its heart as would intoxicate the beholders. And from the heart of the rose, there came slowly and gracefully a waxen-white goddess of surpassing beauty and fairness. She stepped daintily from the rose and stood before the bewildered Vishnu. Brahma was speechless with surprise also.
“Then spake the queen of the roses and said: ‘Vishnu, because thou hast honored the flowers in thine own home garden, Nature hath sent me to be your bride. Henceforth, the white rose shall be a bride’s flower, and its sweetness and beauty shall ne’er fade.’
“Thereupon, Brahma admitted willingly that this flower in the garden of Paradise was the most beautiful in the world, and the half of his kingdom became Vishnu’s, who now was the greater lord and governed Brahma and his possessions.”
When Mrs. Tompkins concluded her story of the white rose, the scouts applauded delightedly, and then Janet called out: “Tell me my flower, Mrs. Tompkins, and what is the legend to go with it.”
“When is your birthday, Janet?” asked the story-teller.
“August twentieth.”
Mrs. Tompkins laughed lightly and replied: “Janet, you have a flower that is a keynote to your character—daring, frank, stubborn to resist obstacles and adverse conditions, generous in sweetness and sunny coloring, but so willing to bloom everywhere that others might be cheered, that it is not half appreciated. I mean the dandelion, your natal day flower.”
The other scouts laughed at Janet’s expression and Mrs. James remarked significantly: “The dandelion never borrows trouble, skips merrily over the meadow or roadway, creeps in to smile on the fairest lawns, lifts its sunny face in the most squalid corners, but is often trampled under foot, or scorned because of its intrepid stand but bold assurance.”
“Well, if that means I am bold because I was impatient to know what my birth flower was, I have my answer. A dandelion! Pooh!” was Janet’s scornful rejoinder.