not a leaf;—but little Ida knew what she knew.
When she was in bed she lay for a long time thinking how delightful it would be to see the flowers dancing at the King’s palace.
“Have my flowers really been there?” But before she could think about the answer, she had fallen asleep. She awoke again in the night; she had dreamed of the youth and the flowers, and the professor of Mathematics, who always said the youth stuffed her head with nonsense, and that she believed every thing. It was quite still in the sleeping-room; the night-lamp burnt on the table, and her father and mother were fast asleep.
“I wonder if my flowers are still in Sophie’s bed!” said she. “I should like so much to know!"
She sat up in her bed, looked towards the door which was half open, and there lay the flowers and her playthings all as she had left them. She listened, and it seemed to her as if some one was playing on the
