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The Flowers. 107
was transformed into the flower which was their
ancestor.
There was a terrible ado in the garden, and all
the flowers felt uncomfortable, either from the
effect which the little bird’s singing had had
upon them, or because the sun’s heat was more
scorching than usual. When evening came all the
flowers were drooping their heads and panting with
thirst, and nothing but the dew fell to refresh
them.
So the days passed on, one after another, and
the sun became still more scorching. All vege-
table life in the garden began to wither, and many
of the gorgeous flowers had to witness their beauty
fading away. Sighing and moaning was heard
everywhere, and no one felt the pride it had felt
before.
“I only wanted you to understand that you are
all equals in my eyes,” said the sun, and shrouded
himself behind a veil of clouds, which bestowed
upon the garden a refreshing rain. But the flowers
had scarcely regained their strength and beauty
before they forgot their punishment, and again
were eager to let everybody understand that each
considered its own family to be the principal one.
A dark cloud arose one day at noon upon the
horizon, and soon burst down upon the garden in a
violent shower of rain, flooding the ground. With
the rain descended large hailstones, which did
such sad havoc in the garden that the paths and
beds were strewn all over with broken flowers.
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