Meantime the others went dancing about in fine style.  One of them, high up in the blue air, looked at the little white clouds and fancied himself seen by just as many eyes as they were.  “Why, this is even better than I thought,” said he.  “I never fancied I should sail about the sky!”

After some long sunny days of travel he saw below him a beautiful garden all shut in with walls, in which roses and fruit-trees grew.

[Illustration:]

“This is the place for me!” he said, and down he went, and perched on the edge of the great drive in front of all the flower-beds and just before the windows of the house.  “Nothing could suit me better!” said he.  “I shall have plenty of good company, and I have found a very good place to make my home!” So he folded up his downy wings and quickly fell asleep.

Another of the winged children went skipping over the fields, stopping now and then to play with some flower, or just to bask in the sun.  After a time she came to a sunny bank of grass on the side of the high-road.

“This is the place for me,” she said.  “Here I will live and grow, so that all who pass along this road will be certain to think how beautiful I am!”

And so she settled down among the grass, quite happy.

And a third said to herself:  “It is good to be of some use in the world!” So when one day the breeze took her to the town, she stopped in a flower-pot full of earth that stood upon the dingy window-sill of a poor little house.  “I shall be valued here,” she said, “and the poor folks will think a lot of me for growing in such a place.  After all, it’s a fine thing to make people happy.”

So she cuddled down in the flower-pot and went to sleep.

And all the other dandelion-children who had sat on the stem that day went dancing about, not knowing what they wanted.  They played in the fields and never thought of anything else till one day the rain came and wet their wings and beat them down among the meadows just where they happened to be.  But it was very comfortable in the deep grass, and so they just went to sleep too.

When they woke again, they all had roots and little leaves, and deep in their hearts the buds of flowers.  For they had grown up now, and they were plants.  At first they were all very small, but the sunshine gradually made them bigger and bigger and drew out the flowers folded in their hearts.

Then the one who had chosen the beautiful garden for his home proudly opened his first yellow flower and looked round to see what the other flowers thought of that.

But alas! he did not know how soon his pride was to have a fall.  For the gardener came that way and stopped before him.  “Drat these weeds!” said he.  “How came this here?’” Then, whipping out his knife, he stooped down, rooted up the poor dandelion, and threw it among a heap of weeds which were waiting to be wheeled away!

The one who had chosen the roadside bank fared no better, for scarcely had she opened her yellow flowers for everyone to see when a donkey came along.  “Here’s a juicy mouthful!” said he, and he stopped and ate her up—­flowers, leaves, and all!