“Oh, but you didn’t,” said the Elf-man; “I found you all by yourself. You were a poor little lonely brown thing.”
“I can’t help it,” said the Wheat: “that was my dream. And I have it now, sometimes, if I shut my eyes.”
The little Elf-man was greatly puzzled: but the Wheat was now so tall that he did not like to contradict.
As for the little Barley-corn, nobody took the least interest in his dreams. He had very delightful ones, too. But they were the kind that never come true.
The summer went on, and all sorts of friends came and talked to the Wheat—birds, bees, and butterflies. He enjoyed himself more and more. The taller he grew, the better view he had of the rest of the world.
He had very pretty green clothes, which grew bigger as he did. This was a really useful arrangement: he never required to be measured for a new suit.
One day he said to the little Elf-man, “Do your clothes change colour?”
“No,” replied the Elf-man, “I always wear green. Even in the winter I can find some blades of grass to weave together, or a few leaves to stitch up into a coat.”
“You don’t understand me,” said the Wheat. “I mean, do they turn to a different colour while you’re wearing them?”