“Long, long ago there was the most beautiful garden that ever was heard or thought of and every lovely flower that grows, and every tree that amounts to anything, was there. But the rose bushes had no thorns, and there were no spiders or bugs or worms to bother the trees and shrubs, but only great butterflies as bright as the rainbow. And there were no brambles or thistles or burrs, but only violets and clover blossoms and other flowers, and all the birds sang more sweetly than the nightingale, and the fountains were clear and sparkling, and the fruit was always ripe, and everything was just as beautiful as could be, and the first man and woman were the most beautiful of all, only they didn’t have any clothes.” Mr. Pine rustled his needles in an embarrassed sort of way, and Grandma Liveoak said that didn’t seem just the right thing, somehow; but Mrs. Fig calmly remarked: “That was what they thought too and so they made themselves lovely clothes out of fig leaves.” Mrs. Pepper guessed that that wouldn’t help them much; that clothes made out of fig leaves would amount to no clothes at all. But here Mr. Pine spoke, saying: “If I might with propriety venture a suggestion on so delicate a subject, I think possibly it was bathing suits the first man and woman made of the fig leaves. My friend, the East Wind, assures me that”— “Rubbish,” cried Mrs. Pepper, “rubbish! I don’t believe that they ever made any clothes of her old leaves at all, so there!” And now Mrs. Fig’s voice was so polite it made me quite nervous, and she spoke very slowly. “The first man and woman went to all of the other trees and looked their leaves over very carefully, but none of them were good or pretty enough, and finally they came to the Fig tree.” Here Mrs. Fig made a long pause, repeating, “Finally they came to the Fig tree. And the first woman said: ‘Oh, aren’t these leaves just too lovely for anything! The Fig tree is the best and prettiest of all. We will make our clothes out of her leaves. And so they did, and what’s more, they got into a whole lot of trouble just because they had something to do with another tree besides the Fig.” Mrs. Pepper rubbed two branches together, and it made the most sneery sound you ever heard, as she asked: “I suppose you want me to believe that ‘other tree’ was the pepper?” “No,” replied Mrs. Fig, “I don’t think there were any pepper trees in the garden at all.” Then you should have seen how angry Mrs. Pepper grew and I did wish that Grandma Liveoak would hurry and say something so there would be peace; but sure as you live, when she spoke her voice sounded strange and very dignified, and she only said: “The other trees may have family histories too, Mrs. Fig, if they chose to boast of them!” “A poet once said,” began Mr. Pine. But Mrs. Orange Tree interrupted him to ask what they were saying about her; that she heard “best and prettiest leaves” mentioned.