e are very well off, considering all things," said the rye-stalks.
"Here we are in a great company that contains none but our own good
family. And we don't hamper one another in the very least. It's really
an excellent thing to be in the service of men."

But, one fine day, a number of little poppies and thistles and
dandelions and burdocks and bell-flowers stuck their heads up above the
ground in the midst of the luxuriant rye.

"What's the meaning of this now?" asked the rye. "How in the world did
you get here?"

And the poppy looked at the bell-flower and asked:

"How did you get here?"

And the thistle looked at the burdock and asked:

"How on earth did you get here?"

[Illustration]

They were all equally surprised and it was some time before they had
done explaining. But the rye was the angriest and, when she had heard
all about Trust and the hare and the wind, she was quite furious:

"Thank goodness that the farmer shot the hare in the autumn," said she.
"Trust, luckily, is dead too, the old scamp! So I have no further
quarrel with _them_. But how dare the wind carry the seed of the weeds
on to the farmer's land!"

"Softly, softly, you green Rye!" said the wind, who had been lying
behind the hedge and had heard all this. "I ask no one's leave, but do
as I please; and now I'm going to make you bow before me."

Then he blew over the young rye so that the thin stalks swayed to and
fro:

"You see," he said, "the farmer looks after his rye, for that is his
business. But the rain and the sun and I interest ourselves in all of
you alike, without distinction of persons. To us the poor weeds are
quite as attractive as the rich corn."

Now the farmer came out to look at his rye and, when he saw the weeds
that stood in the fields, he was vexed and scratched his head and began
to scold in his turn:

"That's that dirty Wind," he said to Jens and Ole, who stood beside him
with their hands in the pockets of their new trousers.

But the wind dashed up and blew off the hats of all three of them and
trundled them ever so far away. The farmer and his boys ran after them,
but the wind was the quicker. At last, he rolled the hats into the pond;
and the farmer and his boys had to stand ever so long and fish for them
before they got them out.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: The ANEMONES]

1

"Peewit! Peewit!" cried the lapwing, as he flew over the bog in the
wood. "Dame Spring is coming! I can feel it