A TREASURY OF STORIES, J/INGLES AND RHYMES.

be as yellow as gold to-morrow. One other thing is cer-
tain, baby’s eyes will not be half so wide open, to see; and
baby will be so tired (who said so cross?) that she. cannot
half see the flowers unless she has her dinner and her nap.

One of these babies dreamed that she was lost in the
meadow on grandpa’s farm ; that the grass was tall and the
dandelions kept reaching up higher and higher, till they
hid her completely. She could not see the other children,
neither could nursey find her, though she cried as loud as
ever she could—in a dream.

“OQ, dear dandelions!” she said, please go to seed and
blow away down to twelve, to bring the dinner-time, and
surely my mamma will come to find me!”

Then she heard something which sounded like a mowing-
machine, coming, clickity-click, to cut down the grass.

-“O, what now shall Ido!” sobbed the poor baby, in her
dream. “O, dear grasshopper ; please let me sit on your
back, and jump me out of this high grass!” But he hopped
the other way. Then she felt a big bird, flying low over
her head ; he brushed her face with his black wings.

“O, if I can just catch you now, you shall fly up with
me, away, out of these tiresome old dandelions!”

She reached up her hands and caught—what do you think?
Why, her papa’s black whiskers: his dear face bending
down to kiss her, asleep. Beside her, in the crib lay the
wilted dandelions, she had brought home in the hot sunshine.
Next day, there she was again, with the others—the dearest
dandelion baby of them all!

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