are! Yes, to be sure, the beautiful bird certainly flies down to them—them he surely visits! What happiness to have got a place so near, whence I can see all this splendor.” And just as it was thinking so,—“quirrevit!” down came the lark from on high; but it did not go to the peonies or tulips; no, but down into the grass to the poor little Daisy, which for pure joy was so astonished that it did not even know what it should think.
The little bird hopped about in the grass and sang: “Well! how soft the grass is! and only look, what a sweet little flower with a golden heart and with a robe of silver!” For the yellow spot in the Daisy looked really just like gold, and the little leaves around were shining, and as white as silver.
How happy the little Daisy was! no one could believe it. The bird kissed her with his beak, sang to her, and then flew up again in the blue air. It was certainly a whole quarter of an hour before the Daisy came to herself again. Half ashamed, and
