“That’s very droll,” said little Ida, clapping her hands.
“But could I not see the flowers?”
“Of course you can see them,” answered the youth. “Only peep in at the window when you go again to the palace. I looked in to-day, and I saw a long pale white lily reclining on the sofa. That was a maid of honor.”
“Can the flowers in the Botanic Garden go there too?” asked she. “Are they able to go all that way?”
“Certainly, that you may believe,” said the youth, “for if the flowers choose, they can fly. Have you not seen the pretty red and yellow butterflies, and the white ones too, that almost look like flowers, are in reality nothing else. They have grown on stalks, high up in the air, and then they have leave given them to jump from their stems, they move their leaves as if they were wings, and so fly about; and as they always behave well, they are allowed to flutter hither and thither by day, instead of sitting quietly on their stems, till at last real
