The Snowdrop Baby lay in her little cradle under the ground. Do you
know how white and smooth the Snowdrop cradle is, and how snugly the
silky sheets are tucked round the baby?
Above the ground it was summer. The birds sang, the bees hummed, the
roses and pinks talked to one another across the beds. "What a number
of flowers are out this year!" they said. "The garden is full of
blossom." Do you know that the flowers talk?
The Snowdrop Baby listened to it all. "I am not needed yet," she said.
She turned over and went to sleep.
Summer passed, and autumn came. Asters and dahlias talked to one
another now, and tiger lilies bloomed in the garden.
The Snowdrop Baby woke and listened. "My time is not yet come," she
said. She slept again.
Winter came. Frost following frost killed all the flowers; storm after
storm blew the dead leaves away, leaving the brown stalks bare. Snow
fell, and melted. A tiny drop crept down to where the Snowdrop Baby
lay. Do you know how the water-drops creep down?
"Your time has come," it said.
"Yes," said the Baby joyfully; "I am making my white frock. Soon I
shall go up."
Next day she was ready. She pushed her way through the soft wet earth,
and reached the top. Up yet, and up, till she hung on her green stalk
high above the ground.
How beautiful she looked in her snowy frock! Pure white it was, except
for here and there a splash of softest green. Do you know how lovely
Snowdrop Babies are?
She turned her face to the ground, for the sun dazzled her, and made
her shy; but a bird saw her. "A Snowdrop! A Snowdrop!" he sang.
"Spring is coming, sweet spring is coming!" Do you know how sweet
spring is?