rning their lovers.
"Heartily? Painfully? Loves me much? A little? Not at all?" and so on.
Every one asks in his own language. The Butterfly came to Marguerite
too, to inquire; but he did not pluck off her leaves: he kissed each
of them, for he considered that most is to be done with kindness.

"Darling Marguerite daisy!" he said to her, "you are the wisest woman
among the flowers. Pray, pray tell me, shall I get this one or that?
Which will be my bride? When I know that, I will directly fly to her,
and propose for her."

But Marguerite did not answer him. She was angry that he had called
her a "woman," when she was yet a girl; and there is a great
difference. He asked for the second and for the third time, and when
she remained dumb, and answered him not a word, he would wait no
longer, but flew away to begin his wooing at once.

It was in the beginning of spring; the crocus and the snowdrop were
blooming around.

"They are very pretty," thought the Butterfly. "Charming little
lasses, but a little too much of the schoolgirl about them." Like all
young lads, he looked out for the elder girls.

Then he flew of to the anemones. These were a little too bitter for
his taste; the violet somewhat too sentimental; the lime blossoms were
too small, and, moreover, they had too many relations; the apple
blossoms--they looked like roses, but they bloomed to-day, to fall off
to-morrow, to fall beneath the first wind that blew; and he thought
that a marriage with them would last too short a time. The pease
blossom pleased him best of all: she was white and red, and graceful
and delicate, and belonged to the domestic maidens who look well, and
at the same time are useful in the kitchen. He was just about to make
his offer, when close by the maiden he saw a pod at whose end hung a
withered flower.

"Who is that?" he asked.

"That is my sister," replied the Pease Blossom.

"Oh, indeed; and you will get to look like her!" he said. And away he
flew, for he felt quite shocked.

The honeysuckle hung forth blooming from the hedge, but there was a
number of girls like that, with long faces and sallow complexions. No,
he did not like her.

But which one did he like?

The spring went by, and the summer drew towards its close; it was
autumn, but he was still undecided.

And now the flowers appeared in their most gorgeous robes, but in
vain; they had not the fresh fragrant air of youth. But the heart
demands fragrance, even when