“Well, I never!” said the Elf-man. “Who’s this?”
“My name’s Wheat,” said the little green head.
“Then you’ve changed very much, let me tell you,” said the Elf-man; “you are not a bit like what you were; but ever so much better.”
“I hope I shall go on improving,” said the Wheat politely. And that is just what it actually did.
But the poor Barley-corn was only beginning to push through under the loose sod by the time the Wheat was six inches high. It was thin and stunted, just as you would be if you had no proper food, and nobody to be fond of you.
The Wheat took no notice of it. But the Dormouse came now and then and said, “How slow you are!” The little Elf-man was rather sorry for it, but it did not occur to him to say so.
The little Elf-man came out every day, and talked to the Wheat while it grew. Very soon it was much bigger than he was; but this did not make him conceited.
“Did you have nice dreams while you were down below there?” he asked it.
“I only had one dream,” said the Wheat, “but that went on all the time. I dreamed I was very tall and golden-yellow, and lived along with a crowd of brothers and sisters.”