But that day the little primrose had part of her wish; for a party of children came into her corner of the wood and began to pick the flowers with cries of delight.
"Here's one all alone!" said a small girl. "I shall pick that for mother." Straightway the primrose was torn from its root and held tightly in a hand which was far too hot to be pleasant.
Down the road the children went, and the primrose looked as well as she could at the hedges and the trees.
"So this is the world," she said to herself. "It seems really interesting, but I should like it better if I didn't feel so faint."
At last they came to a garden gate and passed through it, up a long path, with strange flowers on each side, which the primrose saw mistily, for she was now really ill.
"I am sure it is all very beautiful," she murmured, "but I know I shall die if I don't have some water soon."
And then they entered a room, and the little girl hurried up to a lady and gave her the solitary primrose. "It was growing all alone," she said, "so I brought it for you."
"Put it into a vase at once," said the mother, "or it will die." And the primrose was placed in water, and at once began to revive.
Then she looked about her and saw what a nice room it was, and was happy.
The next morning in came the bee with a great fluster and bumped all over the room.