in their hearts.

Then the one who had chosen the beautiful garden for his home proudly
opened his first yellow flower and looked round to see what the other
flowers thought of that.

But alas! he did not know how soon his pride was to have a fall. For
the gardener came that way and stopped before him. "Drat these weeds!"
said he. "How came this here?'" Then, whipping out his knife, he
stooped down, rooted up the poor dandelion, and threw it among a heap
of weeds which were waiting to be wheeled away!

The one who had chosen the roadside bank fared no better, for scarcely
had she opened her yellow flowers for everyone to see when a donkey
came along. "Here's a juicy mouthful!" said he, and he stopped and ate
her up--flowers, leaves, and all!

The flower-pot on the window-sill which the third dandelion-child had
made her home was taken inside one day, just when her flowers were
ready to open.

[Illustration:]

"I must throw away this nasty weed," said a voice, "before I plant my
seeds." Then some little round, black, ugly seeds were laid down
carefully, while the dandelion was rooted up and flung away into a
back yard down below.

This is a sad story, you see, but it is perfectly true.