criedgerda;andsheranoutintothegarden,andexaminedallthebeds,andsearchedandrewasnotonetobefound.thenshesatdownandwept,andhertearsfelljustontheplacewhereoneoftherose-treeshadsunkdown.thewarmtearsmoistenedtheearth,andtherose-treesproutedupatonce,asbloomingaswhenithadsunk;andgerdaembraceditandkissedtheroses,andthoughtofthebeautifulrosesathome,and,withthem,oflittlekay.

"oh,howihavebeendetained!"saidthelittlemaiden,"iwantedtoseekforlittlekay.doyouknowwhereheis?"sheaskedtheroses;"doyouthinkheisdead?"

andtherosesanswered,"no,heisnotdead.wehavebeeninthegroundwhereallthedeadlie;butkayisnotthere."

"thankyou,"saidlittlegerda,andthenshewenttotheotherflowers,andlookedintotheirlittlecups,andasked,"doyouknowwherelittlekayis?"buteachflower,asitstoodinthesunshine,dreamedonlyofitsownlittlefairytaleofhistory.notoneknewanythingofkay.gerdaheardmanystoriesfromtheflowers,assheaskedthemoneafteranotherabouthim.

andwhat,saidthetiger-lily?"hark,doyouhearthedrum?-'turn,turn,'-thereareonlytwonotes,always,'turn,turn.'listentothewomen'ssongofmourning!hearthecryofthepriest!inherlongredrobestandsthehindoowidowbythefuneralpile.theflamesrisearoundherassheplacesherselfonthedeadbodyofherhusband;butthehindoowomanisthinkingofthelivingoneinthatcircle;ofhim,herson,wholightedthoseflames.thoseshiningeyestroubleherheartmorepainfullythantheflameswhichwillsoonconsumeherbodytoashes.canthefireoftheheartbeextinguishedintheflamesofthefuneralpile?"

"idon'tunderstandthatatall,"saidlittlegerda.

"thatismystory,"saidthetiger-lily.

what,saystheconvolvulus?"nearyondernarrowroadstandsanoldknight'scastle;thickivycreepsovertheoldruinedwalls,leafoverleaf,eventothebalcony,inwhichstandsabeautifulmaiden.shebendsoverthebalustrades,andlooksuptheroad.noroseonitsstemisfresherthanshe;noapple-blossom,waftedbythewind,floatsmorelightlythanshemoves.herrichsilkrustlesasshebendsoverandexclaims,'willhenotcome?'

"isitkayyoumean?"askedgerda.

"iamonlyspeakingofastoryofmydream,"repliedtheflower.

what,saidthelittlesnow-drop?"betweentwotreesaropeishanging;thereisapieceofboarduponit;itisaswing.twoprettylittlegirls,indresseswhiteassnow,andwithlonggreenribbonsflutteringfromtheirhats,aresittinguponitrbrotherwhoistallerthantheyare,standsintheswing;hehasonearmroundtherope,tosteadyhimself;inonehandheholdsalittlebowl,andintheotheraclaypipe;heisblowingbubbles.astheswinggoeson,thebubblesflyupward,reflectingthemostbeautifulvaryingcolors.thelaststillhangsfromthebowlofthepipe,andswaysinthewind.ongoestheswing;andthenalittleblackdogcomesrunningup.heisalmostaslightasthebubble,andheraiseshimselfonhishindlegs,andwantstobetakenintotheswing;butitdoesnotstop,andthedogfalls;thenhebarksandgetsangry.thechildrenstooptowardshim,andthebubblebursts.aswingingplank,alightsparklingfoampicture,-thatismystory."

"itmaybeallveryprettywhatyouaretellingme,"saidlittlegerda,"butyouspeaksomournfully,andyoudonotmentionlittlekayatall."

whatdothehyacinthssay?