The Dandelion family wildly applauded, and grandmother graciously bowed her acknowledgment.
“But, my children,” she went on, “I would not have you forget we have also black sheep in the family—Spanish needles, ragweed, bitterweed, and beggar ticks; these, too, we must own, even though we bow our heads in shame. But so it is in all great families.”
Just at this moment the gardener came whirring along with the lawn mower, and alas and alack, not a single Dandelion was left to tell the tale!
But the little winged seeds from grandmother’s silver crown sailed away, carrying wisdom, I doubt not, to many another Dandelion family.
THE BIRTH OF THE VIOLET
A Legend
The raindrops were kept busy one morning in the garden of the fairies. There were many flowers to be washed clean of the dust that had dulled their beautiful colours, and the green of the trees must be made bright once more; and to leave without a gambol with the little waves of the brook was not to be thought of. So the raindrops fell early in the morning, but in the afternoon the sky became clear and there was promise in the beautiful rainbow that the raindrops’ work was done, for that day at least.
“Isn’t our garden beautiful after a shower?” said one fairy to another sitting beside her.