I will fly directly to her and
propose."

But Marguerite did not answer him. She was offended that he should call
her a woman when she was only a girl; there is a great difference. He
asked her a second time, and then a third, but she remained dumb,
answering him not at all. Then he would wait no longer, but flew away to
commence his wooing at once. It was in the early spring, when the crocus
and the snowdrop were in full bloom.

"They are very pretty," thought the butterfly; "charming little lasses,
but they are rather stiff and formal."

Then, as young lads often do, he looked out for the older girls. He next
flew to the anemones, but these were rather sour to his taste. The
violet was a little too sentimental; the lime blossoms were too
small--and, besides, there was such a large family of them. The apple
blossoms, though they looked like roses, bloomed to-day, but might fall
off to-morrow with the first wind that blew; and he thought a marriage
with one of them might last too short a time. The pea blossom pleased
him most of all. She was white and red, graceful and slender, and
belonged to those domestic maidens who have a pretty appearance, yet can
be useful in the kitchen. He was just about to make her an offer when,
close by her, he saw a pod, with a withered flower hanging at the end.

"Who is that?" he asked.

"That is my sister," replied the pea blossom.

"Oh, indeed! and you will be like her some day," said he. And at once he
flew away, for he felt quite shocked.

A honeysuckle hung forth from the hedge, in full bloom; but there were
so many girls like her, with long faces and sallow complexions! No, he
did not like her. But which one did he like?

Spring went by, and summer drew toward its close. Autumn came, but he
had not decided. The flowers now appeared in their most gorgeous robes,
but all in vain--they had not the fresh, fragrant air of youth. The
heart asks for fragrance even when it is no longer young, and there is
very little of that to be found in the dahlias or the dry
chrysanthemums. Therefore the butterfly turned to the mint on the
ground. This plant, you know, has no blossom, but is sweetness all over;
it is full of fragrance from head to foot, with the scent of a flower in
every leaf.

"I will take her," said the butterfly; and he made her an offer. But the
mint stood silent and stiff as she listened to him. At last she said:

"I can give you friendship if you like, nothing more. I