the children gazing into the air, and seeking their late companion with tearful eyes.
Goldilocks had only gone back to Despard, who was still planting flower-seeds.
"What a miserable game," said Goldilocks; "it is worse than playing funeral! Who thought you could make flowers grow? Our old nurse said it was only Demeter, the goddess, who could do that. Here, now, you have called up a bristling crop of thistles and brambles! On my word, Despard, it is a pity!"
"Well, well, Goldilocks, see what you can make of them. I am doomed to work, though I don't wish it; and my work is always disagreeable, though I can't tell why!"
Goldilocks knelt, and blew on the prickly plants with her sweet breath. By the nodding of the next breeze, they were changed to roses, violets, and hare-bells.
