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 when the next summer came, and he was almost a full-grown bull, he went down to his hole in the hedge, and there in his own field was a little red poppy, and he knew at once that it had grown up from one of the seeds of his own poppy, which the kind wind had carried and dropped in the cow-field. So all the summer he talked to his poppy and loved her, and she loved him and they were very happy. But when the autumn came the poppy knew she must die, and they were both very sad.

One day, when the young bull was lying down watching his dear poppy's petals beginning