And the children took turns filling the vase on the supper table. They were very proud of their flowers when their father leaned over and smelled them.
"My, how sweet they smell!" he would say every time. "I don't think I ever saw such flowers."
And when their vegetables came to the table—round plump red radishes, crisp curling lettuce leaves, juicy tomatoes, and rows of peas in the pod, like the little toes of the neighbour's baby, Father Green would say:
"I never did eat such vegetables!"
Then he would smile over at Mother.
And Marmaduke, after his turn one night, whispered to his mother—
"It was a pretty fairy story, Mother. And we made it come true ourselves."
"Yes, with the help of God and His fairies—the jolly Sun, the gentle Rain, and brown Mother Earth. But the best part of it all is that your own hands helped."
But the Little-Clock-with-the-Wise-Face-on-the-Mantle thought that the children understood now. So he stopped this advice with his silver tongue.
And Mother, too, agreed that it was late. So she kissed them good-night and tucked them under the coverlids as they had covered the tiny seeds in their brown beds.