"Yes, it is very necessary that you should do so. You will soon learn why. Now look again at the green ovary. That is also hollow, and contains seeds or eggs, as I said before. In plants we call them seeds and in animals eggs. And it is these seeds that grow into the baby plants. But they cannot grow alone, without help. With a certain kind of help they can and do grow, and what do you suppose that help is?" Elsie gazed earnestly at her mother, trying to think it out. But she was compelled to shake her head after all. "I can't imagine," she said. "Nothing but that some of the pollen shall be mixed with them," said her mother. "Oh, I see, I see!" Elsie cried delightedly. "That is why the stamens with the pollen in them are right over the ovaries." "Yes, dear, you have guessed it. The ripe pollen, falling into the ripe ovary, would fertilize the seeds. And with some plants, the earlier and simpler kinds, this is just what happens. But here you can see that the ovary is not ripe. It is hard and green. When it is ripe its color is yellow. But the pollen is ripe now, you can see it all over the anthers, as the knobs or sacks are called. If the pollen should fall upon the ovary now it would roll off without entering, and would be wasted. Now what do you suppose happens?" "The--the--" Elsie hesitated, looking with very bright eyes at her mother, almost sure enough to go on, but not quite. It seemed so peculiar, the thought that had come to her, and she did not see just how it could be. "You were going to say the bee, weren't you?" her mother smiled. "Oh yes--and would that have been right?" Elsie cried in delight. "Yes, that would have been exactly right. If we had been near enough to examine the bee's motions closely we should have seen that he alighted on the ovary, and then began to turn here and there in order to get at the honey at the base of each petal. As he did so he brushed off some of the pollen, for he was right in amongst the stamens, and this powdery pollen stuck to his fuzzy body and he carried it away with him." "But if he carried it away how could it get into the flower's ovary?" Elsie asked, puzzled. "It did not get into this flower's ovary," her mother answered. "Nature did not intend that it should, and that is why the bee is introduced. For the other buttercup that he flew to, or some other one that he would visit afterward, would have its ovary ripe, and when he alighted on it in search of honey some of the pollen would be brushed off his body right into this ovary that was all ready to receive it." "Oh! But what would happen then? The little baby buttercups would begin to grow right away, mamma?"