"Mother," said Johnnie Jones, "I'll tell you a story all my own, about
the shining stars."

"I'd like very much to hear it," Mother answered.

"Once upon a time, oh! such a very long time ago that it must have been
before you were born, Mother dear, all the stars fell down from the sky.
I think it was the wind that blew and blew until they became loose. They
fell down whirling and twirling just like the snow flakes, except that
they weren't cold and white, but all bright and shining. They were so
beautiful that the people looked out of their windows and wished the
stars would never stop raining down from the sky."

"Is that all the story?" asked Mother, much interested.

"No, there is another part," said Johnnie Jones. "When all the stars had
fallen down to the ground, what do you suppose they really were?"

"I can't imagine," Mother answered.

"Why, Mother, they were beautiful little flowers all different colors.
Some were red, some were yellow, and some were purple violets. They
began to grow, and nobody gathered any, for they were so pretty there on
the ground."

"But," asked Mother, "when it was night time again, what did the poor
people do without any stars to shine in the sky?"

"Don't you see," Johnnie Jones explained, "when the stars fell down they