I
Little Verotchka's one little eye is falling asleep. Verotchka's one
little ear is falling asleep.
"Father, are you here?"
"Yes, dear child."
"You know, father, I want to be a Queen."
Verotchka sleeps. She smiles as she sleeps.
There are so many flowers. All of them are smiling. They surround
Verotchka's little bed; they whisper and laugh in their thin little
voices.
There are crimson flowers, blue flowers, yellow flowers, azure, pink,
scarlet, white, as if a rainbow, falling, struck the earth and
scattered its living sparks into many-colored lights.
"Verotchka wants to be a Queen," gaily proclaimed the Field Bluebells,
swaying on their thin, green stems.
"Oh, how comical she is!" whispered the modest Forget-me-nots.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this affair needs serious discussion," said the
yellow Dandelion pertly.
"What does it mean to be a Queen?" asked the blue Cornflower. "I grew
up in a field and I cannot understand your city ways."
"It's very simple," said the pink Carnation. "It is so simple it
requires no explaining. A Queen is ... is ... is.... You don't seem to
understand.... How strange you are! A Queen is like a flower, as pink
as I am. In other words, Verotchka wants to be a pink Carnation. Isn't
that simple?"
Everybody laughed gaily. Only the Roses were silent. They were much
offended.
"Who doesn't know that the Queen of Flowers is a Rose--delicate,
fragrant, marvellous? And suddenly a mere pink Carnation calls herself
a Queen. It's all nonsense."
Finally one Rose grew angry and, turning scarlet, she said: "Pardon me.
Verotchka wants to be a Rose. A Rose is the Queen because everybody
loves her."
"Oh, that is nice," said Dandelion, growing angry. "If that's the case,
where do I come in?"
"Dandelion, please don't be angry," pleaded the Wood Bluebells. "It
spoils your temper and it is very ugly to be angry. Look at us. We are
silent, although we know perfectly well Verotchka wants to be a Wood
Bluebell."