“With that Mrs. Brown went into the house to call her little boy and girl who came out and greeted us joyfully.
“‘Let me see, Jack, if you like butter,’ said Ruth, as she held one of my blossoms under her brother’s chin. It surely looked quite yellow by reflection and of course this was a sure sign that he liked butter.
“‘Come, Ruth, let’s see if we can get enough stems to make a chain for you,’ cried Jack, and they found enough of my hollow stems to make a chain to go around Ruth’s little white throat.
“By this time I felt we were doing much to make the children happy and I lifted my head proudly and whispered to my companions that surely we were useful as well as beautiful. Just then Mrs. Brown called the children into the house and we were left alone in the garden.
“But not for long—Alas! Farmer Brown who had gone away while the children were with us now returned with a strange, sharp and shining tool in his hand. He came straight to where we were growing so happily and said:
“‘Now we’ll see whether this new weeding knife won’t kill these pesky dandelions. Every year they spread more and more so that by and by there’ll not be any grass. Perhaps by starting in early to weed them out we can get rid of the pests!’ With that he dug the instrument deep into the ground and pulled up all my lovely little brothers and sisters. I alone remained, but even I was badly bruised as you can see, and I have come back to tell you how cruelly I have been treated. Wasn’t it an unkind thing? I had always thought that people loved us,—for we make the fields and meadows glow with the sun’s own colour.” And poor Dandelion drooped his golden head and was as sad as it is possible for a golden headed flower to be.
All the other flower children had looked very solemn and sympathetic during Dandelion’s story and when he had finished, they crowded about him.
“It’s just a shame,” murmured Crocus; “I hope no one will treat me so rudely.”
“Yes indeed,” whispered Snowdrop, “it would certainly be a painful misfortune to have one’s roots cut to pieces by a patent weeder,” and she shuddered so violently that her stiff little petticoats fairly shook.
But Mother Earth and the fairies only smiled and said nothing, for they knew quite well that it would take many, many farmers and more weeders than they could ever hope to buy to get rid of Dandelion and his numerous brothers and sisters.