During the cold winter months while Kabibonokka, with his icy breath, stalked over the prairie, Shawondasee stayed in his wigwam and mourned the loss of his prairie maiden. But when the warm days came again and the grass sprang up on the northern plains, the South Breeze came forth and planned to journey northward. One day he looked toward the prairie where a year ago he had seen the dancing, golden-haired maiden. A marvelous sight greeted him. Hundreds of bright yellow flowers among the waving grasses nodded and smiled at him. The prairie was shining with golden dandelions. PRINCE BUTTERFLY AND CLOVER In a quiet, pleasant meadow, where green old trees waved their branches as the summer winds went singing by, bloomed a sisterhood of flowers. A neighbouring brook rippled musically, and passing clouds cast shadows upon the waving grass below. The flowers were very happy together in this pleasant spot. No cold winds came to blight them, no rude hands tore them from their stems. Warm sunbeams smiled on them all day long, and the dewdrops refreshed them at night with a cooling drink. One morning when the flowers awoke, fragrant and fresh, a little worm came creeping by. "Oh, pity and love me," sighed the little worm. "Give me shelter, dear flowers. I am lonely, poor, and weak. A little spot for a resting place is all I ask. Only let me lie in the deep, green moss and weave my little tomb and sleep my long, unbroken sleep until spring's first flowers come. Then will I come forth in fairy dress, and repay your gentle care for a poor worm. Kind flowers, let me stay." But none of the proud flowers would give shelter to the poor worm. Wild Rose showed her little thorns while her soft face glowed with pride. Violet hid beneath some drooping ferns and the daisy turned her face away. Little Houstonia laughed scornfully, as she danced on her slender stem, while Cowslip bent down and whispered the tale to the brook. A blue-eyed Grass looked down on the poor worm as she silently turned away. "You will harm our delicate leaves," she said; "that is why you may not stay." At that moment a sweet voice called from a distance: "Come here, poor worm, come to me. The sun lies warm in this quiet spot. I will share my home with you." The flowers all looked in wonder to see who had offered the worm a home. To their surprise, they found Clover Blossom, with fluttering wings, beckoning him to come. From her snug little nook where the cool winds rustled by, and the murmuring bees and butterflies loved to come, her rosy face smiled kindly down as the friendless worm drew near. "Poor thing, you are welcome here," she said in a soft voice. "In the soft, green moss close at my side you may sleep until spring comes. I will spread my leaves over you, and guard you through the long winter." Then, deep in a moss bed, the grateful worm spun his winter home, and lay down for his long rest.