Loud cheers responded to the King’s speech, and then the marriage ceremony commenced. The venerable Archbishop Ivy, glorious in his glossy green sleeves and quaintly twisted brown mitre, read the service and pronounced the Blessing, and then, as King Buttercup kissed Queen Daisy, there began a general “March past” of all the representatives of Meadowland. What a wonderful sight that was! The West Wind, who kept on blowing the news as hard as he could to all the four quarters of the globe, found it almost impossible to telegraph his description of the scene fast enough, though he was generally admitted to be an excellent reporter. The procession was almost interminable, and lasted nearly all day. Then there was the wedding Breakfast which took place under a beautiful tent of gossamer-web, round which a thousand tall Cowslips, officers of the Royal guard, stood “at attention.” Innumerable Ladybirds, in black and scarlet livery, ran about, waiting upon the King and Queen and their distinguished guests, and some specially selected Moths, in brown coats and white stockings, brought various kinds of honey-dew and sweet nectar to fill the Royal cups. Then came a grand dance, and the King, leading his fair Consort out, opened the Ball with her. All the flower-eyes were turned upon the Royal pair as they glided together over the green meadow in the light of the setting sun at the close of the long bright festival-day,—and on the very edge of the grass, as an uninvited spectator, stood the dandy Tulip who had sneered at the whole business of the marriage in the morning when he had first heard of it. Yes, there he was, twirling his petals just as some gentlemen twirl their moustaches.
“Upon my word!” he exclaimed—“The new Queen is not bad-looking!”
Jealous Lady Hyacinth, who had followed him, heard what he said and was very angry.
“Not bad-looking!” she cried in a little shrill voice—“How dare you, Sir Tulip! Do you not remember that you admired Me yesterday?”
“Ah, but that was yesterday!” drawled the Tulip—“You are all very well in your way, but you are heavy, my dear Lady Hyacinth!—large and heavy!—You do not wear well!”
“Dear me!” said a tall stately-looking flower-personage, attired in purest white and carrying a golden wand like a sceptre—“How you ‘cultivated’ persons quarrel! I have never seen worse manners even among the frogs in Egypt! Really, Lady Hyacinth, your relatives the Bluebells are much better behaved!”
Sir Tulip waved his leaves carelessly with a rakish air, and Lady Hyacinth trembled with rage,—for it was the Lily who had come all the way from the Nile who thus reproached them, and she was a great authority on deportment.
Meanwhile the Buttercup and Daisy danced on, and all the other field and woodland flowers danced too, till the sun sank and the moon rose, and the meadows shone with the silvery reflections of a million fantastic and graceful forms that swayed to and fro in the wind like pretty gleams of pale sunshine on dark green water. The river murmured and plashed among the reeds—tall osiers nodded their heads in drowsy time to the flying feet of the flower-dancers, and little moor-hens paddled to and fro from one bank of moss to the other, gossiping and making their comments on the beauty and brilliancy of King Buttercup’s State Ball. Higher and higher the moon climbed into the dark blue heaven,—the stars came out—and then the Laureate singer and Chief Minstrel of Meadowland, the Nightingale, began to sing. As soon as he tuned up his first rich liquid note, the dancing ceased,—and all the flowers stood stock still just where they were in the field and bent their heads to listen, while tears of dew filled their eyes. And King Buttercup and Queen Daisy, seeing all their subjects thus entranced, stole softly away together like the fond little lovers they were, and lay down to rest on a Royal couch of budding wild thyme and velvet moss. And the nightingale sang on and on,—and the glow-worms came out and twinkled, and all the flowers fell asleep together, and their spirits wandered away to the beautiful Land of Dreams. And what they saw there, who shall tell? Queen Daisy rested her little head on the golden heart of her King, and they too folded themselves up closely and slept and dreamed, while the nightingale warbled a serenade and lullaby in one all the night long. It was a magical night, and a magical wedding; and the wonder of it all is that ever since then the fields have been full of buttercups and daisies, and we have grown to know them so well and love them so much that if they were taken away from us we should not know what to do, or how to replace them. And if you want to know the exact spot where King Buttercup’s marriage took place,—well!—there is a corner by the river Avon, just between two beautiful bending willows, where you will find.... But, no!—I will not tell you what you will find in that enchanted little nook. For if you know anything about Fairyland, you do not need telling!
