by the pool, she saw so many beautiful things here and there that she never knew what to do in her delight. Iris blossomed in gold and blue; butterflies danced overhead like yellow rose-petals flying in the breeze. Once, running over to the pool, she found a tiny beach, about fifteen inches long and half a foot wide—no more than a handful of sand completely hidden in a forest of ferns. Across it ran the chipmunk's footprints, and the marks of his wee claws could be plainly seen in the damp sand. That little beach was the earth's dear treasure, so it seemed to Eepersip, alone in that wild place. In the fields all around, thousands of buttercups blossomed, and great beds of daisies whitened the earth's brown surface.
In one place, among dark ferns, grew columbine, gay little gypsies curtseying in the breeze. Their colours spoke to her of dawn, gold sunset and white clouds, snow-banks fringed with icicles, night sky entwined with moonbeams, black clouds and radiant sun, or orange, yellow, and scarlet leaves—autumn leaves. She gathered some, and made a rainbow wreath of blossoms; and curling about her hair, they danced again.
Beneath the branches of a white pine grew blushing lady-slippers, which Eepersip had never seen before. "Dawn comes to earth sometimes,"
