wings grow out of their leaves. Why, you have seen it often enough yourself. However, it may be that the flowers in the Botanic Garden did not know that there was such merry-making in the King’s palace of a night, and so have never been there. But I’ll tell you something that will put the Professor of Botany, who lives beside the garden, into a perplexity: when you go there again, you have only to whisper it to one flower, that there is a ball to be given at night at Friedricksburg, and one will tell it to the other till they all know it, and then all the flowers are sure to fly there. Then when the Professor comes into the garden, and does not find any of his flowers, he will not be able to comprehend what is become of them.”
“Ah!” said little Ida, somewhat vexed at the strange story, “how should the flowers be able to tell each other what I say? Flowers cannot speak!”
“No, they cannot properly talk: there you are quite right,” continued the youth; “but they make themselves understood by
