feelings. With
a sort of reverence the daisy looked up to the bird that could fly and
sing, but it did not feel envious. "I can see and hear," it thought;
"the sun shines upon me, and the forest kisses me. How rich I am!"

In the garden close by grew many large and magnificent flowers,
and, strange to say, the less fragrance they had the haughtier and
prouder they were. The peonies puffed themselves up in order to be
larger than the roses, but size is not everything! The tulips had
the finest colours, and they knew it well, too, for they were standing
bolt upright like candles, that one might see them the better. In
their pride they did not see the little daisy, which looked over to
them and thought, "How rich and beautiful they are! I am sure the
pretty bird will fly down and call upon them. Thank God, that I
stand so near and can at least see all the splendour." And while the
daisy was still thinking, the lark came flying down, crying "Tweet,"
but not to the peonies and tulips--no, into the grass to the poor
daisy. Its joy was so great that it did not know what to think. The
little bird hopped round it and sang, "How beautifully soft the
grass is, and what a lovely little flower with its golden heart and
silver dress is growing here." The yellow centre in the daisy did
indeed look like gold, while the little petals shone as brightly as
silver.

How happy the daisy was! No one has the least idea. The bird
kissed it with its beak, sang to it, and then rose again up to the
blue sky. It was certainly more than a quarter of an hour before the
daisy recovered its senses. Half ashamed, yet glad at heart, it looked
over to the other flowers in the garden; surely they had witnessed its
pleasure and the honour that had been done to it; they understood
its joy. But the tulips stood more stiffly than ever, their faces were
pointed and red, because they were vexed. The peonies were sulky; it
was well that they could not speak, otherwise they would have given
the daisy a good lecture. The little flower could very well see that
they were ill at ease, and pitied them sincerely.

Shortly after this a girl came into the garden, with a large sharp
knife. She went to the tulips and began cutting them off, one after
another. "Ugh!" sighed the daisy, "that is terrible; now they are done
for."

The girl carried the tulips away. The daisy was glad that it was
outside, and only a small flower--it felt very grateful. At sunset
it folded