In the middle of a large flower garden, there lived a flower who wanted desperately to sing. Soon after she awoke from her winter’s sleep she raised her head and said to the other flowers, “Oh, how I wish I could sing a little song; but I fear it is too late now even to try.”
“Yes, it is too late,” laughed the Morning Glories, who happened to be near. “Flowers do not sing; that is a foolish wish.”
“Oh yes, they do, too!” said Daisy in her sweet little voice. “I know a flower that could sing a song; I coaxed her when she was with me to try, and she said she would when she got her head out of the cold earth. So she will next spring.”
“Oh,” sneered the Morning Glories, “flowers do not sing; that is a foolish wish,” and they laughed and laughed.
Then a little breeze rustled its soft wings, and whispered in Daisy’s ear, “You cannot sing here; wait till the sun shines bright.” So she said no more, but bowed her head and waited, waited for the sun to shine.
After a time Happy Little Sunbeams came tripping over the garden. As soon as they saw Daisy they stopped and clapped their hands.
“Now we will have our song,” they said. “We are the Sunbeams, you know.”
“Who did you expect?” asked Daisy happily.
“Well, we thought perhaps it was a bird,” said the Blossom-Boy. “Will you be so kind as to try, just a little for us now?”
So Daisy tried, and instead of her voice coming out in a low, lovely melody, it burst forth into the biggest kind of a loud laugh, ha-ha-ha!
“Ow!” cried the Sunbeams, “what a laugh, what a laugh! It will blow all our hats off!”
“Oh, take away your hats!” said the Hollyhocks. “It’s a fine day to be sure. Ha-ha-ha! Oh, what a laugh! What a funny laugh! No wonder she is ashamed to sing. Well, it wouldn’t do any harm to try, just for a change. So they all tried to laugh anyway, because they wanted a song so dearly. But such funny words. It only made you laugh all the more.
At last little Daisy rattled her bell, that is, all the seeds in her pod rattled, and said, “Well, seniors, did you ever! I told you I was a bird and I would sing just as soon as my head was out of the earth. My head is out of the earth but you won’t let me sing. What do you want me to do? Go to bed? Fiddle de-dee.”
“I knew it was of no use to coax her,” said the Chickory, “Ha-ha! I was sure of it.”
“I told you what to expect,” said Sweet William. You see Daisy was standing in the middle of some Sweet Williams.
“Yes, and she expected a great deal, too; she expected to sing when her head was out of the cold earth.”
“But I always told you the seeds did the singing,” said the roots of Daisy. “And look here, folks, she is not done growing yet. She is only a jack-in-the-pulpit yet.”
“But look what her coat’s made of,” answered all the flowers; “it’s made of star velvet.”
“But there’s no such thing,” said the roots.
“Well, daisy aligns all the same!”
“But see the difference!”
“See the color!” screamed the flowers and all began to talk after Daisy.
“Stop your prattling!” cried Daisy. “I am made of colors I don’t believe any of you can name,” and she gave such a jump, just from pride, that she sprouted and grew till she thought of nothing but the flower she was growing to be. That is the way with a lot of cross little flowers like this Daisy; they have no regard for their mothers who live so much longer than they do; they are ready to make their skin off for the least thing and sometimes too they are sorry for it. Daisy as I expected, was; for she was all out of sorts, she forgot her fine clothes and emptypod: eat up that may be looked at one month and will not even live the next, and not even be noticed at all to say nothing about it, either. Fiddle de-dee! But of course she had her say.
When she had to put on another dress and another mackintosh to face the weather in, she just opened her eyes and looked all around her till she found it was really the last she had.
“Well, well, well!” She began. But why don’t it do anything when I say well? It’s always said old folks were aluz right, and said to be anyway, ‘Well goes round, so much to grow sometimes.’”