e looked up and saw a most wonderful thing. A
primrose that really had wings! A flying primrose! A primrose that could go
anywhere just like the bee. It darted hither and thither so gaily,
alighting where it wished and then soaring up again right into the blue sky
above the earth.

The solitary primrose called to it, but it did not hear, and was soon out
of sight.

"So primroses needn't always stop where they are till they die," she said
to herself. "Why did the bee deceive me? If I were like that I could see
the garden and the gardener and the pretty gay sitting-rooms and the rich
people."

She waited impatiently for the bee's return, and when he came she told him
about the aviator.

"He was so splendid," she said, "so big and strong, and he flew
beautifully. How can I get wings, too?"

"Pooh!" said the bee. "That wasn't a primrose. That was a brimstone
butterfly; and as for flying--why, he can't compare with me. I could beat
him every time: hundred yards, quarter-mile, mile, long
distance--everything."

"He looked just like a wonderful big primrose," said the solitary flower
wistfully.

"That's because you've got only one eye," said the bee. "He was a butterfly
right enough;" and he hurried away laughing at the silliness of her
mistake.

But that day the little primrose had part of her wish; for a party of
children came into her corner of the wood and began to pick the flowers
with cries of delight.

"Here's one all alone!" said a small girl. "I shall pick that for mother."
Straightway the primrose was torn from its root and held tightly in a hand
which was far too hot to be pleasant.

Down the road the children went, and the primrose looked as well as she
could at the hedges and the trees.

"So this is the world," she said to herself. "It seems really interesting,
but I should like it better if I didn't feel so faint."

At last they came to a garden gate and passed through it, up a long path,
with strange flowers on each side, which the primrose saw mistily, for she
was now really ill.

"I am sure it is all very beautiful," she murmured, "but I know I shall die
if I don't have some water soon."

And then they entered a room, and the little girl hurried up to a lady and
gave her the solitary primrose. "It was growing all alone," she said, "so I
brought it for you."

"Put it into a vase at once," said the mother, "or it will die." And the
primrose was placed in water, and at once began to revive.