BLUSHROSE AND ROSEBUD

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 648, 27 April 1929, Page 33

BLUSHROSE AND ROSEBUD

(Special Prize) “Oh, I wish,” said Mary drowsily to herself, “that there were fairies. I suppose there really arc, but w hen 1 say to Bobby (for that was her brother) that there are, he says that there are not.” “Of course there are,” said a small voice. Mary looked to where it came from and there were two lovely fairies dressed in gold and pink. “We are princesses.” said one. “and our names are Bluslirose and Koscbud.” “Your names are awfully alike,” said Mary. “Y'es, that is to show that W'o arc sisters,” said the fairy. “But which is Rosebud, and which is Bluslirose?” “I am Bluslirose,” said tlio fairy who had not yet spoken. "Now would you like to go to Fairyland, because that is what we have come for?” “Oh, oh,” cried Mary, clapping her hands in delight. “Well, hold our hands,” said Rosebud. “and then we will start.” “Oh, how lovely,” said Mary as she felt herself going up in the air. “How long will it take to get there?” “We’ll be there in a minute,” replied Bluslirose. “Look, there is Fairyland,” said Rosebud, and she pointed down to where busy little creatures were flitting to and fro. “Would you like to land here, or go to GHomeland?” “Go to Gnonieland,” said Mary. Presently they came to a place where little creatures were not at all busy, but were just walking lazily backwards and forwards. “Well, I don’t think much of this place,” said Mary, “so I think we may as well go back. Oh, oh, what are you doing?” For the fairies were tickling her. “Wake up,” said a voice, and it was daddy’s; but when she told him all that had happened, he only laughed. —MARGARET HOGBEN (aged 7). THE LAND OF WHITE FLOWERS Nellie was a little girl who lived with her mother in a cottage with a lovely garden. The cottage stood in a quiet spot about a mile from the village and, as there were no little girls living near, she was very lonely. One day, as she was walking in the garden, wishing she had someone to play with, she heard a sweet, bell-like voice singing and, looking down, she beheld two fairies busily painting some hyacinths. They each held a tiny brush and a pot of blue paint and, as they painted, they sang gaily. “Oh!” cried Nellie, clapping her hands in glee. “Please let me paint some flowers, too.” On hearing her voice, the two fairies dropped their brushes and ran behind a tree in fright. “Please don’t run away,” pleaded Nellie. “I am so lonely and I have no one to play with.” One of the fairies peeped boldly from behind the tree, and said, “Would you like to come with us to Cloudland to see all the flowers that have not been painted? If you come, you may help to paint some.” “I should love to,” she cried, so the fairies held her by the hands and sped along the ground. The next moment Nellie felt herself rushing through the air. “Oh!” she cried in ecstacy, as they alighted on a big, white, fleecy cloud, and well she might, for, stretching in front of her, as far as the eye could see, were miles of beautiful white flowers. There were flowers of every variety and all of them were white. “Is that what makes the clouds white?” she asked. “Y r es,” said one of the fairies. “And when the flowers are painted they are taken to the earth to be planted.” Nellie was given a brush and a pot of paint, and she set to work to paint some flowers. She had a lovely time, and, when the sun began to sink, she felt herself falling and she landed in her own garden. She sat looking up at the clouds, which were now bathed in colour, and said, “I think the colour must come from the flowers that I 'have been painting. —Cathleen Fletcher (aged 13).

VIGILANCE UNREWARDED Urchin (on bank of stream): “Hi, Mister, would you please watch this tin of worms for me while I catch some more?” Kind Old Gentleman; “Why. certainly. sonny.” Urchin (suspiciously): “And mind you, now. I’ve counted them!”