They brought their treasures to the mother, who sat on the door-step of
the farm-house, under the tall, old elm-tree that had been growing there
ever since her mother was a child. She praised the beauty of the bird's-
nest, and kissed the little mermaiden to find if her lips tasted of salt
water; but then she said, "Don't break any more of the silk, dear
children, else we shall have no ears of corn in the field,--none to
roast before our picnic fires, and none to dry and pop at Christmas-time
next winter."
Now, the children wondered at what their mother said, and begged that
she would tell them how the silk could make the round, full kernels of
corn. And this is the story that the mother told, while they all sat on
the door-step under the old elm.
"When your father broke up the ground with his plough, and scattered in
the seed-corn, the crows were watching from the old apple-tree, and they
came down to pick up the corn; and, indeed, they did carry away a good
deal. But the days went by, the spring showers moistened the earth, and
the sun shone; and so the seed-corn swelled, and, bursting open, thrust
out two little hands, one reaching down to hold itself firmly in the
earth, and one reaching up to the light and air. The first was never
very beautiful, but certainly quite useful; for, besides holding the
corn firmly in its place, it drew up water and food for the whole plant:
but the second spread out two long, slender green leaves, that waved
with every breath of air, and seemed to rejoice in every ray of
sunshine.
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