Ursula, glowing, thrust them into her grandmother's hand, saying, “I made them you.”

“That is how the peasants tied them at home,” said the grandmother, pushing the pinks with her fingers, and smelling them. “Just such tight little bunches! And they make wreaths for their hair — they weave the stalks.

Then they go round with wreaths in their hair, and wearing their best aprons.”

Ursula immediately imagined herself in this story-land.

“Did you used to have a wreath in your hair, grandmother?”

“When I was a little girl, I had golden hair, something like Katie's. Then I used to have a wreath of little blue flowers, oh, so blue, that come when the snow is gone. Andrey, the coachman, used to bring me the very first.”