Once upon a time, high up in the starry sky, there was a little star named Daisy. She was the tiniest star in her part of the sky, and she felt all alone. You see, when all the stars began to twinkle at night, Daisy noticed that some of them danced and some sang, and they all seemed to be happy. Daisy looked down on the earth and watched the people there dancing together. It looked like so much fun, but Daisy did not know how to dance.
“I wish I could dance,” Daisy said softly to herself.
Now, of course, it was that high above and far away someone could not hear her, and the stars went on dancing and the moon went on shining, and it seemed to Daisy that no one really wanted her to dance but herself.
Night after night, Daisy gazed down on the happy earth, especially when there were parties and balls. Perhaps somebody would notice her if she danced, but whenever she thought she would try, she felt so very small and also so very shy. At last she made up her mind. “I will dance,” she said.
The next night she looked over the shoes of all the dancers, but they were not all going to be out the next night.
Now, the party was so large that Daisy had to separate all the shoes and take them one pair at a time; but the night passed so quickly that she only finished one pair, so she had to wait another night, which was very dull standing there looking down at the earth.
But, oh dear! How was it possible? The little star saw that the next night only those shoes that were powdered with blue, white, and red leather were going to be worn. Would she go on shining all the time when those colors were in fashion? Instead of doing that, she would have liked to wear a hat, or just a little wreath; in fact, she would have liked something gay and bright upon herself, to be in the fashion of shining also.
But down she had to stand, and up she continued to shine, without a look from below. It was enough to make her unhappy. “It is not worth my while to dance,” said Daisy; and she made a great effort and began to dance, and she danced—right round. In the morning she was sorely off from the exertion.
The next day she looked over the shoes; there were black shoes and white shoes with red tops and all possible and impossible colors. But where some were not dancing, a great many red shoes were powdered with silver leather, and these were to be worn at the ball in the evening. Everybody had them; to be sure, Daisy was glad of that, but how was it with the dancing? She was not happy. “To dance for wasn’t a red nose,” said Daisy the star. “Star, star, how you gleam!”
But what was that? Somebody was calling her—was it the moon? No; it was nobody but Anna Elizabeth, the bake-shop maiden.
“Oh, yes, you are a small star, Daisy,” said she; “but just dance and do your best; then the moon will notice you and tell it herself.”
Daisy was pleased, for she had a friend on the earth. The moon turned round immediately: “Now we shall see the pièce de résistance,” said she, reached over to her chair, picked out a star, fastened on the garland, and clapped her little hands. “Do you see how Daisy the star is dancing? And everything turns in a circle, and we all turn, we all turn together.”
And Daisy the star danced, too, and the moon clapped her hands. All were happy, successful; everybody seemed pleased; light shoes and dark shoes went around ever so long taps and asked out of doors which way the stars danced a hornpipe put by the moon’s horn.
And Daisy the star, who danced without shoes, Mrs. Anna Elizabeth, the bake-shop maiden, who had black shoes, said in the old tune:
“Star, star, how you gleam! Up there under the moonlight beam! Stiff legs bring no dancers up— No drink and sing without a cup.”
So, unfortunately, it must be—in song and dance when people are happy musting. Daisy learned her lesson. “I shall dance no more now,” said the Daisy star.
And she did not dance. Even the other stars had to stand all night in the moonshine. But when the storm danced in the evening, in the deep valleys and over cracked mountains up spoke Daisy the star, like all the rest:
“Star, star, how you gleam! Up there under the moonlight beam!”
“Now you dance, too,” said the moon. All the stars danced, but Daisy the star danced best, for this was her very first ball. It was said that she was a favorite dancer. The sun refused to shine the next night, for nothing was prettier than in the country beneath the long dance-halls—the night-shades were all of moonshine-green.