And it really did break. "Did I not say
so?" said the needle; "I am too delicate."

"Now it's good for nothing," said the fingers, but they were obliged
to hold it still; the cook dropped sealing-wax upon it, and pinned her
neckerchief together with it.

"Well, now I am a breast-pin," said the darning-needle. "I was sure I
should be raised to honor: if one is something, one is sure to get
on!" and at the same time it laughed inwardly; for one can never see
when a darning-needle laughs. So there it sat now as proudly as in a
state-carriage, and looked around on every side.

"May I take the liberty to inquire if you are of gold?" asked the
needle of a pin that was its neighbor. "You have a splendid exterior,
and a head of your own, but it is small, however. You must do what you
can to grow, for it is not every one that is bedropped with
sealing-wax!" And then the darning-needle drew itself up so high that
it fell out of the kerchief, and tumbled right into the sink, which
the cook was at that moment rinsing out.

"Now we are going on our travels," said the needle. "If only I do not
get lost!" But it really did get lost.

"I am too delicate for this world!" said the needle, as it lay in the
sink, "but I know who I am, and that is always a consolation;" and the
darning-needle maintained its proud demeanor, and lost none of its
good-humor.

And all sorts of things swam over it--shavings, straws, and scraps of
old newspapers.

"Only look how they sail by," said the needle. "They do not know what
is hidden below them! I stick fast here: here I sit. Look! there goes
a shaving: it thinks of nothing in the world but of itself--but of a
shaving! There drifts a straw; and how it tacks about, how it turns
round! Think of something else besides yourself, or else perhaps
you'll run against a stone! There swims a bit of a newspaper. What's
written there is long ago forgotten, and yet out it spreads itself, as
if it were mighty important! I sit here patient and still: I know who
I am, and that I shall remain after all!"

One day there lay something close beside the needle. It glittered so
splendidly, that the needle thought it must be a diamond: but it was
only a bit of a broken bottle, and because it glittered the
darning-needle addressed it, and introduced itself to the other as a
breast-pin.

"You are, no doubt, a diamond?"

"Yes, something of that sort." And so each thought the other something
very precious, and they