"It makes me think of all sorts of lovely summer things."
Then they consulted as to how they could best carry the precious leaves to the market for sale.
"We needn't take them all," pleaded Linde. "I do wish we needn't sell any. It seems a shame."
"Almost," her sister replied, "but it can't be helped. If only I had had more of the powder," she repeated, "we might have collected and dried quantities of rose-leaves."
"Or if we knew how to make the powder," said Linde.
But that knowledge was not to be had.
Aria had reached down the jar, which stood on a high shelf in a corner, and the fragrance seemed to fill the room.
"Leave off sniffing it, Linde, dear," she said, for the child kept bending over it, "and let us plan how to take the leaves to market. We can't of course carry the jar, but it wouldn't do only to pack them in a sheet of paper. Ah, I have it," and she ran up the tiny ladder-like staircase which led to their little bedroom above, returning with a good-sized old-fashioned box or canister of tin, with a firm lid. "The very thing," she exclaimed joyously.
"It will be dreadfully clumsy and heavy to carry," objected Linde.