The Gardeness pointed out to her the children with the names of Lily, Daisy, Sweet William, and others, all borne up by their especial flower; her own flower, the Gardenia; and the Marigold's Mary; and told her how in some flowers the children imbibe their tastes from their surroundings. Thus, as they strolled around, Monica heard that the Dandelion turns out too foppish a child: that amongst the wild oats the harum-scarum boys develop: that the Blue Cornflower babies remain true to their liking for farinaceous food: and in Love-lies-bleeding, little Cupids are born. Monica went through the vegetable garden and saw the turnips, where the noses of the infants looked so funny. "They generally take a dislike to vegetables later on," explained the Gardeness; "now those over there," pointing to a bed of 18-carrots, "are as good as gold. But we must not linger here. You shall have a peep at the orchard, and visit the Counting House; then you must be quick and make your choice." In the orchard were only boy babies, some sweet-tempered, others sour. The Gardeness wouldn't recommend a gooseberry one, for it was apt to grow up silly. There were some rosy, apple-cheeked ones, but they looked _all_ cheek. Little gipsy-faced babies peeped with black eyes from out of the blackberry bushes; whilst in the fruit and nut trees close by were many pairs of hard-headed little twins, all Philips and Philippines. "There's no time," observed the Gardeness, "to visit the Indian garden, or the Chinese, or the others; I should like to have shown you some quaint little baby girls called Peach Blossom in the Japanese garden. But after all, I suppose you prefer an English one? They are generally chosen according to climate." And seeing Monica smile and nod, she hurried her off to the Counting House. Monica had not been considering at all what she should choose, for she had lost her heart to that first little Rose baby. Very soon they reached their destination--a long, low building. "Listen!" said the Gardeness, drawing her to an open window. "They are actually quarrelling over it again!" There was a fearful hubbub going on inside, above which could be distinguished-- "If one times six is six--six times one must be one! So that fat infant weighs more than one and six!"