“Are you going to this absurd ceremony, Lady Violet?” inquired the same dandy, Tulip, who had before spoken to the Bee.
“Certainly, if the King invites me,” she replied.
“Oh, we are all sure to be invited!” he exclaimed. “The vulgar little monarch will honour himself by pretending to know us and sending us his invitations; but I, for one, shall not trouble myself to go.”
“Nor we,” said the Lilies.
“Nor we,” chorused the Crocuses.
“Well,” gently said the Violet, “we need not decide what to do till the invitations come.”
The sun was now high in the heavens, and all the fields and gardens were bright with life and activity. The birds warbled gaily on the budding green boughs, and hosts of gay insects with rainbow-tinted wings fluttered and danced in the fresh breeze. Many butterflies passed to and fro, some pure white, others pale yellow, others crimson, and some beautifully variegated; but as the messengers of King Buttercup were to be recognized by their blue costume, the other members of the tribe did not attract as much attention from the Flowers as usual. The hours passed on, and yet not a single blue butterfly appeared. Now, though Lilies, Crocuses, and Hyacinths had all derided King Buttercup and his bride, they were in secret very anxious to be invited to the wedding, which they knew well enough would be a grand affair, and they kept sharp watch for the first glimpse of the Royal ambassadors. At last, a faint flicker of pale blue wings appeared in the distance, and then the long expected procession of butterflies came floating swiftly through the air. Very brilliant and lovely they looked in the broad blaze of sunshine, and a linnet, perched up in a hawthorn tree, was so charmed with the sight that he composed a song about it and sang it then and there with all his heart in it. The beautiful butterflies did not stop in their graceful flight for the Lilies, or the Crocuses, or any other aristocratic flower; they descended to the Forget-me-nots, rose again lightly and went on to the Violet, where three of them rested an instant, then on again, now and then fluttering down to give invitations to some modest field flowers almost hidden in the grass—sometimes poising on the white blossoms of the blackthorn, sometimes disappearing in the scented cups of early bluebells—away they flew bearing King Buttercup’s message to his chosen guests, and in a few seconds they had left far behind them the brilliant cluster of cultivated flowers that had sneered so unkindly at the Monarch of Meadowland. The Hyacinths trembled with anger, and the complexions of the Crocuses grew even yellower in the extremity of their disappointment. But they said nothing, they knew well enough they had deserved the slight they had received.
The day passed, and the young May moon smiled radiantly down on sleeping Flowerland. The Violet, who had been greatly excited by receiving a royal invitation, and the Forget-me-nots also, could scarcely close their eyes all night, and therefore they saw a party of the Fungus Elves practising their dances for the next evening. A pretty sight it was to see them all troop out from under the cover of the funguses which are their houses, and then to watch them gracefully skipping about in the moonshine. They were all dressed in brown and silver, and wore crowns of dewdrops, and nothing could exceed the activity and ease of their motions. Ten glow-worms lit up the grass on which they danced, and altogether it was a charming sight. Violet looked on at their fantastic capers till she fell unconsciously into a sound slumber from which she did not awake till the first streak of morning appeared in the east. A great noise of booming and buzzing then aroused her, and opening her dark blue eyes she saw that the Town Criers were all passing her dwelling on their way to the wedding. Looking around her, she observed the coquettish Forget-me-nots busily engaged in dressing themselves for the occasion, and what a fuss they made to be sure! They washed all their leaves, and were most particular to arrange a dewdrop in the centre of each one of their blossoms. They certainly would have been the latest arrivals at the King’s Palace had they not been reminded how time was going by a cross old grasshopper with a squeaky voice, who was hurrying off to the wedding as fast as he could go.
“There you are!” he grumbled, “dressing yourselves and muddling about, just as women always do. When are you going to start, pray? I suppose you’ll arrive just as the ceremony is ended!”—And on he hopped faster than ever. The Forget-me-nots now hurried the finishing of their toilette, and the Violet hastily arose from her mossy couch. Putting on her richest purple robe, she summoned a fly (you can hire flies in Flowerland as you can in our world, only you do not pay them so much), and seating herself on his back, away she went to the marriage festival, and succeeded in reaching the meadow just as the King entered. What a scene it was to be sure! Such a vast concourse of flowers had never been seen assembled in one field before. They were all packed together as closely as they could stand, and all pressed eagerly towards one spot, where the spider-woven canopy was erected. And a wonderful canopy it was, finer than silk, and studded thickly with dewdrops of all sizes that glittered like the rarest diamonds. Under it, King Buttercup sat on his throne waiting the approach of his bride. He was the cynosure of all eyes, and in truth he was a handsome little fellow. He wore a robe of cloth of gold, and on his head was placed a golden crown, and his bright face shone with happiness. Beside him stood his attendant groomsmen, the Celandines, together with several other distinguished Flower-people, many of whom bore titles of distinction. There was Count Dandelion, one of the handsomest soldiers in Meadowland, who had travelled in many countries, and, it was said, had saved many lives at the risk of losing his own. He looked very gorgeous in his showy uniform of pale green and gold, and he was engaged in what seemed to be a very interesting conversation with the beautiful Lady Pimpernel, who was one of the greatest belles and coquettes of the court. Then there was the Grand Duke of Borage who was flirting desperately with the young Duchess Eye-bright, and the gallant nobleman Lord Fox-Glove was busy paying most devoted attention to the graceful and fascinating Marchioness Meadowsweet. There were knights and nobles in abundance, and in short all the rank, wealth and beauty of Meadowland had gathered to King Buttercup’s wedding. Many were curious to see the bride, as few persons present knew what she was like, and all they had heard was that she was very small and shy and timid. But now there was heard a great clash of armour, and a brilliant regiment of Rose Beetles splendidly attired in green coats of mail appeared on the field and formed in two lines, one on each side of the King. Then came the Bees or Town Criers, and took their places;—after which a strain of sweet melody was heard, and lo! a skylark rose into the air, fluttering his pretty wings and singing as only skylarks can sing, with a clear joyous voice that made the very heavens ring with music. And perhaps it is because he sang so beautifully on this occasion, that ever since that time the skylarks that live in the fields and woodlands round about Shakespeare’s Town are famous for their lovely clear voices, which break forth in a chorus of the most joyous melody in the world every year when Spring colours the trees green, and fills the meadows with flowers. They are, as they certainly must be, the descendants of that special bird which carolled so merrily on the morning King Buttercup was married. He warbled the “Wedding Anthem” instead of the conceited thrush, and as he sang, all the blossoms rustled their leaves expectantly, for it was time for the bride to appear. A few seconds more of suspense and anxiety, and then a deepening murmur of applause and admiration ran through the dense crowd of Flowers as the fair Daisy entered. What a lovely little creature she was!—So simple, so pure and innocent;—so shy and sweet she looked in her snow-white robes, with her little golden bodice and crown! She was followed by her fair bridesmaids, the Anemones, but beautiful though they were, simple little Daisy outshone them all. King Buttercup rose from his throne and advanced to meet her—all the Bees buzzed, the Rose Beetles clashed their swords, and the Skylark sang louder and louder, hovering, like a living jewel in the sunshine, just above the Royal Canopy. Now as the little Daisy approached her kingly bridegroom, her great happiness and honour seemed more than she could bear, and a faint beautiful rose-blush tinged her tiny white petals. That is the reason why so many daisies are pink-tipped to this very hour. The King bowed low and led her to his throne,—then, turning to his courtiers and friends, said in a small voice as clear as a bell,—
“Loving subjects!—It has seemed good to us that in order to maintain the honour and position of our Kingdom and State, we should take upon ourselves the solemn duty of matrimony. In choosing a partner for our Throne, we have not considered rank and wealth so much as virtue and goodness, and in all our search we have been unable to find a fairer or more modest maiden flower than the Daisy, whom we now have the honour to present to you as your future Queen. We feel confident that the many beauties of her mind and the sweetness and constancy of her character will enhance the value of our Throne and increase the happiness and prosperity of our Kingdom. Moreover, it has been made known to us that in days to come, that portion of Flowerland whereon we now grow and flourish will be made valuable and beloved to all the rest of the world by the presence of a far greater King than ourselves,—one who will lead the thoughts of men even as we lead the first golden blossoming-out of Spring. Therefore it shall be our duty to make this centre of our realm beautiful with all the fairest thoughts of love and grace and innocence which can charm a Poet’s fancy, and we here decree that these fields by the river shall be the beginning of all lovely fields in all lovely lands. None shall be more peaceful and pure,—none shall be more full of gold and silver bloom,—none shall be more delicately fragrant, or more sweetly surrounded by the singing of birds. Subjects, behold your Queen! Before you all, I proudly declare my love for her;—and from henceforth shall Buttercup and Daisy dwell together in loving hope to make the world brighter and happier for their blossoming!”