bloomed the first yellow flower of the season; it shone like burnished
gold in the sun. An old woman had brought her arm-chair out into the
sun; her granddaughter, a poor and pretty little maid-servant, had come
to pay her a short visit, and she kissed her. There was gold, heart's
gold, in the kiss. Gold on the lips, gold on the ground, and gold above,
in the early morning beams! Now that is my little story,' said the
buttercup.

'Oh, my poor old grandmother!' sighed Gerda. 'She will be longing to see
me, and grieving about me, as she did about Kay. But I shall soon go
home again and take Kay with me. It is useless for me to ask the flowers
about him. They only know their own stories, and have no information to
give me.'

Then she tucked up her little dress, so that she might run the faster;
but the narcissus blossoms struck her on the legs as she jumped over
them, so she stopped and said, 'Perhaps you can tell me something.'

She stooped down close to the flower and listened. What did it say?

'I can see myself, I can see myself,' said the narcissus. 'Oh, how sweet
is my scent. Up there in an attic window stands a little dancing girl
half dressed; first she stands on one leg, then on the other, and looks
as if she would tread the whole world under her feet. She is only a
delusion. She pours some water out of a teapot on to a bit of stuff that
she is holding; it is her bodice. "Cleanliness is a good thing," she
says. Her white dress hangs on a peg; it has been washed in the teapot,
too, and dried on the roof. She puts it on, and wraps a saffron-coloured
scarf round her neck, which makes the dress look whiter. See how high
she carries her head, and all upon one stem. I see myself, I see