Oh, yes, she wears a lovely dress of green lacey leaves. The leaf is made strong, just as children are, by a bone, a leaf-bone or a ~mid-rib~. All other flowers dress in a similar way, but not every flower has as many beautiful things to wear as has little Buttercup. When you see flowers after this, look for the lovely corolla, calyx, stamens, and other parts of the flower, which you have learned to know through Little Buttercup. There is another part to a buttercup, called the ~pis-til~, but I shall tell you about that part of flowers in the next lesson, in just the way our teacher told us. “Oh,” cried Mary Frances, as Billy finished, “What a delightful lesson! Never again will buttercups seem the same. Although I always loved them, they will be so much more interesting after this.” CHAPTER XVIII GOOD MRS. BEE “GETTING tired?” asked Billy as Mary Frances finished planting the last of her radish seeds. “Not so very,” answered Mary Frances, “but I would like to take a little rest,” sitting down on the garden bench. “Doesn’t everything look lovely—the beds all laid out, and neat as biscuits in a baking pan!” “It is some garden, believe me!” agreed Billy, wiping his brow. “I guess I’ll stop for a few minutes, too,” throwing himself down at the foot of the tree. “Oh, Billy, you oughtn’t to lie there on the ground,” chided Mary Frances; “you’ll take your death of cold.” “Ha! Ha!” roared Billy, getting up. “Yes, Grandmother, certainly, your darling grandchild understands your kind admonition and obeys,” taking a seat beside Mary Frances, who made room for him. “Oh, Billy, don’t tease,” she begged. “Please don’t! I’ve enjoyed my Garden Lessons so much, and you’ve been so kind——” “Say, Mary Frances, if you want me to go away, just keep on praising me, will you,” interrupted Billy. “All right,” said Mary Frances, “I’ll stop, but I’ve gone over and over in my mind the lesson about the seed babies. It all seems so wonderful to me. Do you know, Billy, I’ve often wondered how the little seed babies are made. Where does their mother get them?” “Well,” began Billy, “I guess I can explain.” “Oh,” shrieked Mary Frances suddenly. “Oh, Billy, excuse me, please, but that bee nearly dashed in my face.” “It’s not after you, Mary Frances,” laughed Billy. “That’s good Mrs. Bee looking for honey. And she’ll have hard work to find it to-day, I’m thinking. Still, I saw a few very early blossoms out on the shrubs at the end of the garden.” “I saw them, too, Billy. Isn’t it lovely that we have such beautiful things to enjoy.” “That’s what Mrs. Bee thinks, too,” said Billy; “and in fact, the flowers are made beautiful, not for us especially, but to attract the bees and moths and butterflies.” “But I can’t imagine why,” said Mary Frances; “the bees only steal honey from them.”