"This needle is quite useless for sewing now," said the fingers;
but they still held it fast, and the cook dropped some sealing-wax
on the needle, and fastened her handkerchief with it in front.

"So now I am a breast-pin," said the darning-needle; "I knew
very well I should come to honor some day: merit is sure to rise;" and
she laughed, quietly to herself, for of course no one ever saw a
darning-needle laugh. And there she sat as proudly as if she were in a
state coach, and looked all around her. "May I be allowed to ask if
you are made of gold?" she inquired of her neighbor, a pin; "you
have a very pretty appearance, and a curious head, although you are
rather small. You must take pains to grow, for it is not every one who
has sealing-wax dropped upon him;" and as she spoke, the
darning-needle drew herself up so proudly that she fell out of the
handkerchief right into the sink, which the cook was cleaning. "Now
I am going on a journey," said the needle, as she floated away with
the dirty water, "I do hope I shall not be lost." But she really was
lost in a gutter. "I am too fine for this world," said the
darning-needle, as she lay in the gutter; "but I know who I am, and
that is always some comfort." So the darning-needle kept up her
proud behavior, and did not lose her good humor. Then there floated
over her all sorts of things,--chips and straws, and pieces of old
newspaper. "See how they sail," said the darning-needle; "they do
not know what is under them. I am here, and here I shall stick. See,
there goes a chip, thinking of nothing in the world but himself--only
a chip. There's a straw going by now; how he turns and twists
about! Don't be thinking too much of yourself, or you may chance to
run against a stone. There swims a piece of newspaper; what is written
upon it has been forgotten long ago, and yet it gives itself airs. I
sit here patiently and quietly. I know who I am, so I shall not move."

One day something lying close to the darning-needle glittered so
splendidly that she thought it was a diamond; yet it was only a
piece of broken bottle. The darning-needle spoke to it, because it
sparkled, and represented herself as a breast-pin. "I suppose you
are really a diamond?" she said.

"Why yes, something of the kind," he replied; and so each believed
the other to be very valuable, and then they began to talk about the
world, and the conceited people in it.

"I have been in a lady's work-box," said the