are drooping. Why do
they do that?" she asked of the student, who sat on the sofa. He was a
great favorite with her, because he used to tell her the prettiest of
stories and cut out the most amusing things in paper--hearts with little
ladies dancing in them, and high castles with doors which one could open
and shut. He was a merry student. "Why do the flowers look so wretched
to-day?" asked she again, showing him a bouquet of faded flowers.

"Do you not know?" replied the student. "The flowers went to a ball last
night, and are tired. That's why they hang their heads."

"What an idea," exclaimed little Ida. "Flowers cannot dance!"

"Of course they can dance! When it is dark, and we are all gone to bed,
they jump about as merrily as possible. They have a ball almost every
night."

"And can their children go to the ball?" asked Ida.

"Oh, yes," said the student; "daisies and lilies of the valley, that are
quite little."

"And when is it that the prettiest flowers dance?"

"Have you not been to the large garden outside the town gate, in front
of the castle where the king lives in summer--the garden that is so full
of lovely flowers? You surely remember the swans which come swimming up
when you give them crumbs of bread? Believe me, they have capital balls
there."

"I was out there only yesterday with my mother," said Ida, "but there
were no leaves on the trees, and I did not see a single flower. What has
become of them? There were so many in the summer."

"They are inside the palace now," replied the student. "As soon as the
king and all his court go back to the town, the flowers hasten out of
the garden and into the palace, where they have famous times. Oh, if you
could but see them! The two most beautiful roses seat themselves on the
throne and act king and queen. All the tall red cockscombs stand before
them on either side and bow; they are the chamberlains. Then all the
pretty flowers come, and there is a great ball. The blue violets
represent the naval cadets; they dance with hyacinths and crocuses, who
take the part of young ladies. The tulips and the tall tiger lilies are
old ladies,--dowagers,--who see to it that the dancing is well done and
that all things go on properly."

"But," asked little Ida, "is there no one there to harm the flowers for
daring to dance in the king's castle?"

"No one knows anything about it," replied the student. "Once during the
night, perhaps, the old steward of the castle d