The Poppy was the first to wake. She cautiously opened some little trap-doors at the top of her head, so that the sun could shine right in on the seeds. Then she called to the Morning Breeze, who was running and playing along the hedge. "Little Breeze," she said, in friendly tones, "will you do me a service?" "Yes, indeed," said the Breeze. "I shall be glad to have something to do." "It is the merest trifle," said the Poppy. "All I want of you is to give a good shake to my stalk, so that my seeds may fly out of the trap-doors." "All right," said the Breeze. And the seeds flew out in all directions. The stalk snapped, it is true; but the Poppy did not mind about that, for when one has provided for one's children, one has really nothing more to do in the world. "Good-bye," said the Breeze, and would have run on farther. "Wait a moment," said the Poppy. "Promise me first that you will not tell the others, else they might get hold of the same idea, and then there would be less room for my seeds." "I am mute as the grave," answered the Breeze, running off. "Ho! ho!" said the Harebell. "Haven't you time to do me a little, tiny service?" "Well," said the Breeze, "what is it?" "I merely wanted to ask you to give me a little shake," said the Harebell. "I have opened some trap-doors in my head, and I should like to have my seed sent a good way off into the world. But you musn't tell the others, or else they might think of doing the same thing." "Oh! of course not," said the Breeze, laughing. "I shall be as dumb as a stone wall." And then she gave the flower a good shake and went on her way. "Little Breeze, little Breeze," called the Dandelion, "whither away so fast?" "Is there anything the matter with you, too?" asked the Breeze. [Illustration: PEOPLE WHO WERE OUT FOR AN EVENING STROLL. _From the painting by Edmund Dulac _] "Nothing at all," answered the Dandelion. "Only I should like a few words with you." "Be quick then," said the Breeze, "for I am thinking seriously of lying down and having a rest." "You cannot help seeing," said the Dandelion, "what a fix we are in this year to get all our seeds put out in the world; for, of course, one wishes to do what one can for one's children. What is to happen to the Harebell and the Poppy and the poor Burdock I really don't know. But the Thistle and I have put our heads together, and we have hit on a plan. Only we must have you to help us." "That makes _four_ of them," thought the Breeze, and could not help laughing out loud. "What are you laughing at?" asked the Dandelion. "I saw you whispering just now to the Harebell and Poppy; but if you breathe a word to them, I won't tell you anything." "Why, of course not," said the Breeze. "I am mute as a fish. What is it you want?"