Then one little Dandelion, prompted by his mother, said he supposed it had something to do with dandies, while another bright little thing lisped out that she guessed it was because they were as fierce as lions.
“No, no!” and grandmother shook her head so briskly a silver hair went flying.
“Look at your leaves,” she said kindly, “and observe the edges. Learn to notice, florets; learn to notice.”
“The edges are pointed like sharp teeth, please, grandmother,” half whispered one bashful little fellow.
“Exactly,” said grandmother, proceeding learnedly; “our name is from the Latin, dens leonis, meaning lion’s tooth, but our botanical name is Taraxacum.”
“Oh, my!” sighed the little buds, for they didn’t understand a word of it.
“Our roots have healing properties, and they are employed in making medicine, while our leaves are used in the spring for food; so we are useful as well as ornamental.” And the grandmother beamed with pride.
“But, children, you must also know that we belong to the great and noble family of Compositæ.”
“Oh, dear!” gasped the little Dandelions.
“Now you know composite means made up of many parts; that is, each blossom is made up of many little florets. Study each other’s heads and you will understand my meaning. Now in this great family of Compositæ there are many, many flowers besides the Dandelions. In fact, my children, we have over nine thousand relatives. Sunflowers, marigolds, asters, goldenrod, boneset, tansy, lettuce, and the daisy—all these belong to our family. Not only are we many, but we have the famous and the great among us—the thistle, royal flower of Scotland; the cornflower of Germany; the chrysanthemum, the emblem of brave little Japan—all these are composite flowers, our royal relatives.”