A WREATH OF WHILE ROSES. 127

“T should like her to have a wreath of forget-me-nots,” said
another sister. ‘‘ Here, we will bring her up to this long mirror, and
she shall choose for herself what wreath she will wear.”

Primrose, who felt more fascinated and more dazed each moment,
allowed the sisters to surround and to bring her up to a mirror, which
certainly reflected the image of a very beautiful child. The little girl
felt even a gentle sense of vanity as she recognised that the image in
the mirror was a reflection of herself. She snatched off the ivy wreath
and felt quite excited, as the sisters first tried the effect of pink roses
and then of blue forget-me-nots on her golden head.

Convolvulus had been standing a little apart while these different
wreaths were being tried on ; now she came forward.

“TJ must make a suggestion,” she said ; “ Primrose would look best
in white—all in white from her head to her feet. She will then look
like what she is—a princess. Here is a wreath of white roses I have
kept for her; here they are, all pure white, without a speck of colour
anywhere. Let us try the effect of this wreath, little Primrose, and if
it suits you, you shall join your brother Buttercup without a moment’s
delay.”

“Oh, little Buttercup, dear little Buttercup,” said Primrose, with a
sudden cry ; “I had almost forgotten him for a moment. This dress
and these flowers have dazzled me, and you are very beautiful to look
at, Convolvulus, and I spent the night with Patience and, and—she
was kind, but she was dull. What’s the matter, Convolvulus ? how
queer you look!”

“There is nothing the matter,” replied Convolvulus, “ only when
you mentioned Patience I got a stab through my heart. She is an
enemy of mine, and I don’t like to hear her spoken of. Put on the
white roses, Primrose, and let us join Buttercup.”

While Convolvulus was speaking, however, a new sensation visited
the heart of little Primrose. It seemed to her as if she had suddenly
got a peep into the cruel heart of the lady who looked so beautiful.
The spell which had been cast over her vanished, and she remembered
the words of poor dull Patience, “ Whatever you do, don’t wear the
wreath of white roses.”

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