10.  ‘Does it grow on a tree?’

‘No.’

‘In this garden?’

‘No.’

‘In the fields?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh, I know!’ cried Harry.  ‘It is the daisy.’

MERRY WORKERS.

wheels bus’-y i’-dle brook’-lets ripp’-ling sky’-lark lis’-ten hon’-ey mer’-ri-ly hum’-ming e-nough’ wea’-ry

    1.  Tell me what the mill-wheels say,
        Always turning night and day;
        When we sleep and when we wake,
        What a busy sound they make! 
        Never idle, never still,
        What a worker is the mill!

    2.  What is it that the brooklets say,
        Rippling onward day by day? 
        Sweet as skylark on the wing,
        Ripple, ripple—­thus they sing. 
        Never idle, never still,
        Always working with a will!

    3.  Listen to the honey-bee,
        Flying now so merrily
        Here and there with busy hum—­
        Humming, drumming, drumming, drum. 
        Never idle, never still,
        Humming, drumming—­hum it will!

    4.  Like the mill, the brook, the bee,
        May it now be said of me
        That I’m always busy too,
        For there’s work enough to do. 
        If I work, then, with a will,
        It will be but playing still;
        Ever merry, never weary,
        It will be but playing still.

THE ROSE.

bas’-ket wo’-man vil’-lage sweet’-ly cab’-bage be-cause’ stooped smile thorns yel’-low a-greed’ win’-ter

1.  Mother went back to her roses, and soon called for a little basket, saying that Dora and Harry should take a few to an old woman who lived in the village.

2.  ‘Poor granny,’ she said, ’is so fond of roses, and she can never get out now to see them.  Which shall we pick for her?’

3.  ‘Some of these white ones,’ said Dora.

‘I think she would like these red ones,’ said Harry, ’they smell so sweetly.’

4.  Mother cut one or two of each, and then a moss-rose, which looked as if it had moss growing round it, and then a pink cabbage-rose.

5.  ‘What has it to do with cabbage?’ asked Harry.

‘It is only called cabbage because it is so big and round.’

6.  ‘I like it the best of all,’ said Dora, and stooped to smell it, putting her nose far down into the sweet, deep cup:  ’it is such a nice rose!’

[Illustration:  Wild Rose.]

[Illustration:  Garden Rose.]

7.  ‘Yes, I am very fond of it, and of all roses,’ said mother, looking at her bushes with a smile, ’but I almost think I like the wild ones best.  Do you know that the wild rose is the mother of all these?  Once upon a time all roses were wild.’

8.  Harry and Dora did not think that wild roses were very like garden roses.  ‘But they both have thorns,’ they said.