"Open your buds as wide as you can," the warm breezes seemed to sing
as they stopped in the branches of the prickly little bush. So the
little bush unfolded its brown buds as wide and as prettily as it
could.
Then it came to be the most beautiful day of all, the mother's
birthday. The children went out to the garden to try to find the
loveliest thing that grew there to be their mother's birthday gift.
And that was not easy because the garden was so full of lovely things.
"I am sure that she will like this tall white lily," said one of the
children.
"But the lily fades so quickly after it is picked," said another
child. "I think that she would like a red tulip."
"But our mother loves pink better than she loves red," said the
youngest child. "Do let us go on a little farther before we decide
what to take her for her birthday. Oh, how pretty--" The youngest
child stopped in front of the prickly little bush, and the others
crowded close to see, too.
They never would have known that it was the prickly bush, at all. It
stood as proudly and as straight as a little tree, and its green
leaves covered it like a beautiful dress. Peeping out from between the
leaves were the most lovely pink flowers, as soft as velvet and with
so many curling petals that one could not count them.
Pages:
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298