Very soon she saw them flying back, some from gardens and some from orchards, and some from the hills where the heather grew, and some from country lanes where the flowers were very sweet, and some from hothouses where the flowers were very rare. Wherever they came from they were all laden with flowers. Some brought roses, red and white and yellow; some brought heavy white lilies; some brought long trails of honeysuckle. Some were carrying great bundles of forget-me-nots; others had strange flowers from distant countries; others had bunches of golden daffodils. They crowded round the Dear Princess, and laid the flowers in great heaps beside her.
"Wear my roses!" cried one. "See how the crimson of them glows in your dark hair!"
"Wear my daffodils!" cried another. "See how they shine like gold!"
"Wear my lilies!" cried a third, "for they match your lily-face!"
Then they all held up the flowers against the Princess's dark hair, to see which looked the best; red, or yellow, or white. The Princess herself found it very hard to make up her mind, because they were all so beautiful that she would have liked to wear them all. First she chose one, and then another, and then she thought that, after all, a third would look the best.
This went on for so long that at last the flowers died.
"Ah, look," said the Princess, "the flowers are dead!"
"Oh dear, oh dear!" cried all the fairies together. "The flowers are dead! What shall we do now?"
The Princess sat down among the dead flowers, and thought.
"I must have something that will not die," she said at last, "something stronger than flowers. In my dark hair I must have something that will gleam and sparkle. I must have colour that will not fade, a dewdrop that will not melt, a spark of fire that will not go out."