ped either; and I hope you will find a
spot where an honest dandelion can shift for herself.'"

"Yes, that's just how a little flower-mother talks," said the wild
rose-bush.

"What then?" asked the willow-tree.

"Then there came a gust of wind," said the dandelion. "We all flew up
into the air together, carried by our parachutes. What became of the
others I have no idea; but I remember it began to rain and then I was
flung down here. Of course, I thought that, when I had dried, I could
fly on again. But not a bit of it, for my parachute was smashed. So I
had to stay where I was. To my great surprise, I saw that I was lying on
earth. Gradually more earth came, in which I lay hidden all the winter;
and now I have sprouted. That's the whole story."

"It's quite a romance," said the wild rose-bush.

"Very likely," said the dandelion. "But what's going to happen to me in
the future? Honestly speaking, I would give a good deal to be down in
the earth again."

"I'll do all I can for you," said the willow-tree. "I have known
adversity myself; and it is a great honour and pleasure for me to have
you growing in my poor head."

"Very many thanks for your kindness," said the dandelion. "There's
really not so much of it in the world that one shouldn't appreciate it
when one meets with it. But, when all is said and done, it's ability
that tells; and I fear that's where the shoe pinches."

"I know what you're thinking of," said the willow-tree, sadly. "I can't
shade you, since the keeper cut off my nice crown. My long branches up
there are all very well and I wouldn't be without them for anything, but
they don't give any shade worth talking about and I shall never get
another crown, that's quite clear. So you're afraid that the sun will
shine too strong on you?"

"Not in the least!" said the dandelion. "The more the sun shines on my
yellow face, the better I'm pleased. No, look here, it's the earth I'm
anxious about."

"And the most important thing too," said the oak. "But that's the
willow-tree's business. If he wants to run an hotel for flowers in his
head, he must provide earth: that goes without saying."

"Yes, but is there no earth, my dear Dandelion?" asked the willow-tree.

"There is," said the dandelion. "And good earth too: it's not that. I'm
only afraid that there won't be enough of it. You must know, I have a
terribly long root: quite a stake, I assure you. When I'm full-grown,
there will be at least six inch