The Sun's Babies Part 1

The Sun's Babies.

by Edith Howes.

THE SNOWDROP BABY

The Snowdrop Baby lay in her little cradle under the ground. Do you know how white and smooth the Snowdrop cradle is, and how snugly the silky sheets are tucked round the baby?

Above the ground it was summer. The birds sang, the bees hummed, the roses and pinks talked to one another across the beds. "What a number of flowers are out this year!" they said. "The garden is full of blossom." Do you know that the flowers talk?

The Snowdrop Baby listened to it all. "I am not needed yet," she said.

She turned over and went to sleep.

Summer pa.s.sed, and autumn came. Asters and dahlias talked to one another now, and tiger lilies bloomed in the garden.

The Snowdrop Baby woke and listened. "My time is not yet come," she said. She slept again.

Winter came. Frost following frost killed all the flowers; storm after storm blew the dead leaves away, leaving the brown stalks bare. Snow fell, and melted. A tiny drop crept down to where the Snowdrop Baby lay. Do you know how the water-drops creep down?

"Your time has come," it said.

"Yes," said the Baby joyfully; "I am making my white frock. Soon I shall go up."

Next day she was ready. She pushed her way through the soft wet earth, and reached the top. Up yet, and up, till she hung on her green stalk high above the ground.

How beautiful she looked in her snowy frock! Pure white it was, except for here and there a splash of softest green. Do you know how lovely Snowdrop Babies are?

She turned her face to the ground, for the sun dazzled her, and made her shy; but a bird saw her. "A Snowdrop! A Snowdrop!" he sang.

"Spring is coming, sweet spring is coming!" Do you know how sweet spring is?

LITTLE GOLDEN HEART

A field-daisy opened her golden heart, and looked up at the blue sky.

The warm sun shone on her, and the morning wind blew softly over her; but the daisy was afraid. "The world is so wide, and I am so small,"

she sighed. "I cannot be of any use. Perhaps it would be better to fold my petals and hide my head."

A bee flew down and settled on the daisy. "Dear little Golden Heart, how sweet you are!" she whispered. "How your white petals s.h.i.+ne!

Their tips are pink, as if the wind had kissed them. Will you give me honey and pollen to make bee bread for the babies in the hive?"

The daisy shook with joy. "Take all I have," she said. "How glad I am to find that I am loved and needed!"

A lark dropped from the sky, singing a glorious song that told about the beauty of the clouds. He saw the daisy.

"Dear little Golden Heart, how sweet you are!" he sang, as he came down. "How your white petals s.h.i.+ne! Their tips are pink, as if the wind had kissed them. Will you stay there and bloom so that my babies peeping from their nest may watch you all the day? They love to look at pretty, s.h.i.+ning things."

"Gladly, gladly!" cried the daisy. "How sweet it is to think that they should like to look at me!"

A little girl came tripping over the short gra.s.s. When she saw the daisy she ran to it and knelt beside it. She touched it lovingly.

"Dear little Golden Heart, how sweet you are!" she said. "How your white petals s.h.i.+ne! Their tips are pink, as if the wind had kissed them. Will you stay here and bloom till I may bring the baby out to see you?"

"Oh, how willingly!" whispered the daisy. Now her golden heart was full of joy.

"What a happy, happy world!" she thought. "Although it is so wide, there is a place for me. I can be useful and give pleasure. What could be better than that?"

Thankfully she spread her s.h.i.+ning petals to the sun. When night came she folded their tips together, and hung her head, to rest till morning light again brought happiness.

d.i.c.kIE CODLIN

The spring winds rocked d.i.c.kie Codlin to and fro as he lay in his scented cradle, and the happy bees buzzed their honey song over him.

For he lay wrapped in his tiny egg-skin in the heart of an apple blossom. Mrs. Moth had gently laid him there only a day or two before.

The pink apple-petals loosened their hold and dropped to the ground, and the flower closed up and grew into an apple. And d.i.c.kie Codlin hatched himself out of his egg-skin and grew into a little caterpillar, with a pink and white skin and ever so many fat, short legs. He still lived on in the heart of the apple.

It was a delightful place to have for a home, for the walls were made of the food he liked best, and all he had to do was to turn himself round and nibble. So he stayed there, eating and growing, till he could not grow any bigger. Then he ate his way out to the skin.

He stood in the entrance of the opening he had made, and looked down.

"Dear me!" he said, "it seems a long way to the ground. But I must reach it somehow."

He sat down on the apple and spun a silk thread, fixed it to the hole through which he had come, and dropped by it. "Good-bye, apple-home,"

he called as he went; but the apple said nothing, for its heart was eaten out.

When he reached the ground he hurried to the trunk of the tree, crawled up it till he found a loose sc.r.a.p of bark, and crept under this safe hiding-place.

"Now I am going to make my new clothes for my wedding," he said; so he spun a little silk workroom for himself. Into this he crept, and here he made his new clothes for his wedding. He made a brown velvet suit and beautiful bronze-tipped wings trimmed with gold-dust.

By and by he came out looking wonderfully neat and handsome. Off he flew into the warm, scented air to be married to pretty Miss Codlin.

It was a splendid wedding. Everybody wore new clothes and danced in the maze dance, and after that they had a honey feast.

THE APPLE FAIRY

She was usually a busy little fairy, but one year she grew lazy. "I am going to take a rest," she said; "I don't see why I should work so hard. I shall sleep all the winter and play all the summer, and the apple-tree can take care of itself."

She curled herself up in her snug little bed, down amongst the roots of the apple-tree, and there she slept through the winter, creeping out only now and again to peep and s.h.i.+ver at the cold, wet world outside.

No work was done in the workroom, where in other winters she had been so busy, and so, when the spring came, and all the other apple-trees were wreathed in sweet pink flowers, hers alone stood bare and brown.

The bees came round the tree, buzzing their surprise and disappointment. "Wake up, Apple Fairy!" they called. "The spring has come, and your tree is bare. Where are our honey-cups and pollen-bags?" The moths and early b.u.t.terflies came fluttering round the bees, for they too were anxious about the honey-cups. But the Apple Fairy gave them no satisfaction. "Go away," she called from her bed; "I don't care about your old honey-cups; I am going to rest." So they had to fly away to other trees.

The birds came next. "Why, Apple Fairy, where are your flowers?" they chirped. "At this rate there will be no apples, and that will be a sad loss to us, for yours were the sweetest in the garden."